dedicated to those made victims of the property management groups who see us as numbers 

goodbyes

the open ended suspicions

crystal caverns

the state of my machine


let me black out
your early morning
smile with the knowledge
that nothing will ever last
as long as this night
let’s contort for a bit
and pretend our limbs
might have some
sort of secret locked
between their shuffle
let’s joke the seizure
of dance into being
anything else I want
to hear your limbs
cascade the rocks
the ocean knows
how to lie because
its been stuck around us
all this time
let’s get a good ole
sing song around the fire
of this camped out shit song
and when it hits hard
lets not forget that
everybody rots
inside the same earthly
shell lets not let ourselves
forget that as nice and kind
and good as you think
you are being in the end                           we all rot in the
same contaminated earth
let’s not forget that                                      as much as you  played  
prayed and weighed 
in on this thing that 
in the end we all rotted
to the core and were
left as we started when 
it gets ugly don’t forget
the ugly are here
waiting for you 
know that we are all 
waiting for some 
other ugly fuck 
to replace us 
in a long long line up 
of others who fucked 
their existences into this 
moment and know that you 
are nothing else but another warm snowflake in the shit 
of now in the shit of now
 there are many, many
 new promises made 
know that death is 
your blessing its 
your chance to not 
give a fuck your chance 
to be bukowski and 
when you get really 
dark and down know
 that you wasted all the moments in-between... to know this
 is to at least have some sense
 of truth in between 
your knees before it
 starts to bleed irrevocably 
until it seethes until it secedes 
itself to the throne 
of your own final, rattled breaths
 lets be real it all ends 
and nobody can stop it 
nobody can stop it 
and nobody can ever 
hope for anything else but this
 lets be fucking real 
a scream in the face of life
 is a scream saying 
nobody had a goddamn chance 
we all die alone and our bodies are instruments left to rust 
that just happen to dance 
after nobody thought it possible 
and when I go I hope I go 
like a dusty trombone 
like a dirty saxophone 
like an ugly piano 
like a simple struggle 
I hope it breaks open 
a pit inside me 
in surround sound 
and culling poem drunk 
on fucking sing-song 
I hope it oozes out of me
 like no tomorrow 
like no sparrow 
had a shot outside 
my own vision when I go
 I hope I go narrow 
against the edge of it 
I hope I redefine the notion
 of a crows sleek soul 
that pecks its owns eye out 
I hope it spills
 speaks and seethes until 
slithering out of me 
like there was no tomorrow
 when I go it better 
be worth it because 
other wise ill get hardened 
and wronged and  hacking
  before responding by 
flipping every fuckin table i
n this joint and
 every head will 
and every eye socket ripped
open will still and every limb will be filled pop will blow

x

when I go

butchers song

disslin and friends  - some said so broken

Disslin Wixie - ornery purposeless

sunday redux

Saw nothing he is all wood no bark

for the women and children and other amazing folk at 142 woodside

I am sorry to you all 
I can't break the chains using my
limbs and the Centurion has 
lost its way 

but ill come back with honor 
and hack a new place out for Jack
and any of your children too

I promise 

grace and her woodside friends

an attack on corporation and their evil empire methods 

Coming to your house

the fight is always underground

social removal of all un fixed to this goodness.

Untie each hand united to stand

in response to the universal spirit giving me back my sense of community

every people's dog day cometh

https://www.bandlab.com/disslinwyxsie
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC33FKBPb0ZqeOy_i54SLGhQ
https://open.spotify.com/user/223lvbbhfua6typuiqsmpfeoy

grace and her woodside friends

disslin wixie

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disslin wixie

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