Where I Grow

Can I grow here anymore?
I look at those who fled with cautious eyes
They took a dash to make distance from themselves
Ignoring what the cast in champagne tinged company
They’ve all something to prove to their peers
Who materialize as stones that make these towers

I assumed I’d follow suit when I go
But after a winter of hugging my shadow
He’s written me up an personal reference
“Sebastian hereby accepts his self, where ever he goes”
So without bias I can wonder and see
What waits outside of these borders for me

They’re already dead
Every artist, every dreamer
Something colourless and callous has taken them
And now they have the answers; they cannot grow anywhere
Colchester’s devoid of romantics
Devoid of a sense of curiosity
And I do want to show the soil my love
And if I ingrain, could I never find another
Who looks my way like the first present on Christmas morning
Without the blindfold youth and ignorance provides
I think I already know

But I have no idea where they’d go
My reflection given a conduits form
Maybe the nature of symmetry relives me of worry
The place where I can grow…. Surely they too will roam

Lnc0

Away

Shifting gears for pinker skies
The kind of sold on the front of seaside postcards
Each one of my friends a Hephaestus in their craft
Each lover a Kikuri-Hime of their circles
Maybe if I could bend reality to my whims
A tangle taffy version of my arms could reach the port
Drag myself along the ocean
And tag along the festivities as the observer
The ticker tape apocalypse
An absolutely brutal assault on the eyes
Courtesy of a lexicon of primary spin off’s
A fuchsia, goldenrod on the back of a cinnabar sapphire

I could fake it you know, I could invent the craft
A world renowned speugerlist at JUST 23?
I’d blend in as a icon in a shit stain
The ones to make this an origin to be proud of
No one would have to know otherwise
They can’t hear my cliff note records
Vs. Your encyclopaedia volumes across monthly installs
When faced with the riddle; “What you been up too?”
They don’t have to see me wait in silence
As blood brothers recount the resumes of quests
Grit teethed in the thick of the crowd
Pleasantness with those who could adore
“I wrote something this week but… It’s not your thing”
“I know you couldn’t come, it’s allright”

To them it’s like a gap in persona’s never occurred
We’re all still arm in arm cheering on for the next day’s barrage
Planning escapes and anticipating breakouts
To them, that’s still how it is
No one will have to know the wiser
Please just cast of while I’m putting on my shoes
Oh can’t you find it in yourself to stay?
But I know none of us win, if you don’t go away

– Lnc0

0 – The Fool (W.I.P) [Pre-Domestication]

Like a cup of a half filled luke-warm tea
Left to freeze, at the mercy of a breeze in a picture perfect winters setting
I am slowly losing the properties linked to my overall purpose
But it’s of no fault of a good for nothing tenant
Who’s jolted the mug from it’s coaster in the living room
And relocated behind the curtains of the study
But a day dreaming priss, to meek to shift his glacier stained feet
Left to drink the pisswater that is his cooled down tea

It’s an easy routine to play out on long weekdays
It’s the upbringing, the unemployment
It’s the crippling depression holding the door shut
Metaphorically, theoretically, possibly
As you chuck another Chicago Town box across the room
But parentheticaly, you know none of that turned on the telly
And made you watch that Man Vs Food marathon
But oh, it was such an easy routine to fall back on

Your groans don’t bounce off much in an empty room
Nothing that could recontextualized the vibrations you sent out
Mush up what you insinuated, and lather up what they inferred
And send it back your way on the silver spoon express
Making sure to seal away the output of groans
Catching all the little things you don’t wanna hear on the bib
Until you’re full and numb and empty of any debilitation
The worst way to debilitate yourself in the first place

It’s a comfortable thing to rest on, puffy fluffly reassurance
But the floorboards are far more triumphant
I’m sick of the soft creamy taste of easy living
I miss the salt and the spit running from my face
As I bulldoze my heel into the stage at the cafe
Screeching to rise above the idle chatter,
The shrugs, disinterested looks, the bloodbath for relevancy
The kind of words I rely to you people now

Don’t let the nostalgic dreams of angry teens suede you
The ways I had to remind myself, I was alive where abhorrent
The tightening of the chocker, the fists behind your door
A reminder you could fuck up someone’s day
The dignified exits, parallel to the pining returns
A reminder you where something to objectify
Fuck that, I’m not a tool in anyone’s narrative
I’m something you’re damn near mortified to see lost
I’ll take that notion of shining like the brightest star
And melt all your faces off with all 27 million degrees of it

Now everything is changing
No footholding, No excuses, No handholding
No spare tenner for Pizza Hut
Just 65,825 ways to go about the plains before me
With an extra 154,529 methods of tripping it up
On the concrete, not like the turf from before
I guess I should face it all with a smirk
And get on with it

– Lnc0

The Lucky Mallet

Little kids can’t help be to lay in bed at night
And dream about getting their mits on the Lucky Mallet
After just one little bop on top of their heads
They’ll burst forth to an elevation like they’ve never imagined

“For now I’ll just keep you under the sheets Mr.Mallet
Getting giddy under the golden glow
Counting the days down like Christmas till I can bust you out
Then every inch will be my playground
The coffee, The smoke sticks, The fancy clothes
The stacks of gore digitized onto little CDs
Finally they’ll have to listen to what I say
I can’t wait for the ol’ tap tap tap”

But what a depressing little scenario to imagine
That given if this fictitious object came into fruition
They would bop bop bop without a moments hesitation
It just shows that from their little eyes
All the days out with the family down the beach
All the make believe games down the local wood
All the electronic art that’s been passed down as gifts
Doesn’t mean a damn thing to them

“They hold back features on a time-based-unlock
Not even giving me the courtesy of a synopsis
Just to get a few more years on the stall
The hours of experience they’ve earned on earth
Pushing trolleys and calling Sandra a bitch in the breakroom
The prefect justification to talk me down to a hush
Well when I get big I’m gonna show them all
With a bop on the ol’ noggin I’ll shut them up”

Could it be in an effort to glorify our actions
The 4 weeks grind to get the funds
To gather dime a dozen technology and architecture
That beautiful way we lie to ourselves
We’ve altered their viewpoints too?
Despite the fact that if it were any of us
And we got our hands on the Lucky Mallet
We’d bop bop bop and go back, without hesitation

As Preformed By Domestic

– Lnc0

The Kids Don’t Know What The Fuck Love Is

What is this bottomless source of inspiration they call love?
Will it give me a reason to step out of the door in the morning
What is this immortal and uncontrollable desire they call love?
Will it make me finally clear the dust in these arteries?
What is this mythical force they call love?
Will it’s claw reach out and slap the knife from my throat?
What is this all knowing, all seeing entity they call love?
Will it stroke my hair and stop the late night sobbing?

They tell us not to worry, they tell us it’s not everything
Then they tell us to fucking consume by every square inch
Self-indulgent scriptures of bloated romantics
Acting like it’s as natural as wearing the shirt on your frame
And if you dare turn up to the social gathers on your own
Then you’re the outsider, the kid that got picked last in P.E
Arm in arms they give you the most detestable looks
Forcing you back like a laser beam back to the dungeon where you belong

Disingenuous sonnets shoved down my fucking ears every day
From deflated personalities, who have beam devoid of it long ago
Trying their hardest to recall a time a fallacy could serve as the fuse
I’d give anything to feel something so powerful
That’d it’ll reduce me to such a pathetic snivelling wreck
But I’d be thankful, because I was eroding on the floor with another

Would I stop feeling so lazy, if someone else was there egging me on?
Get your arse out of that chair you’ve got to keep my interest
Would I stop feeling so hollow, if someone else was there to make me react?
Unfasten my bra and I’ll bring this poor lost soul back to life
Would I stop feeling like I want to die, if someone else was there to stop me?
Oh honey you’re a god, you’re an Adonis, you’re anything you want me to say
Would I stop feeling like their’s no point, if someone else was there to give me context?
I’ll rip you open from your insides and give you subtext

You sit there from a top a makeshift stepladder and bark orders at me
To make a rough estimate for every aspect of my life from here on out
But when I can’t even begin to grasp this simple and yet universal concept
How could I even be sure of 1% of what could reach out and trip me up
Student loans, Career prospects, Mortgage, Kids college funds and Pensions
I can’t even get her to hold my hand before she leaves on the 61
Oh god what’s the point of trying, I’m lagging behind the crowd by 2 years
And now suddenly 80 years till my grave feels like it’s tomorrow

As preformed by Domestic

– Lnc0