from a mute

and darkness, you have found I again

unhinged doors, unlocked (p)(h)earts, 

dissemble my skull,look inside.

contemplating thoughtlessness,

superficiality bleeding wrist to wretched.

and darkness,it seems

that you have found I again,

this can never end, if it never began.

so let us begin.

grind up the powder(person),

my little capsulated sin. 

disregard my vapid verbosity,

it manifests only in animosity,

for everything I am.

vacant virtue, my vivacious (tr)apathy,

wretch and witch, bound as (n)one.

darkness, my demystified enigma,

you are not alone,

I will stand by your side. 

vacant sides for vacant hearts,

this can never end,if it never had a start.

that closet door cannot cackle and rattle with bones

if you never return home.

Mengele,

I will stand by your side.

corpse laid back, arms folded, your dead eyes

winking at mine.

hell is beside you, besides the point, it’s pointless, case and point 

that barrel, 

where it belongs.

cold metal to cranium.

I whisper, “now darkness, depart from your fear”

of being afraid,

if this life is hell,

you only have me to pay. 

Bieber Blurb!

   While I presuppose that you all share my insatiable and ineffable adoration for such a talented, mature, and innovative artist, I’m not sure if baby Biebs was quite up to muff, in terms of cognitive faculty, to occupy the most current cover of Rolling Stone. Specifically, the cover spot’s extensive Q and A entailment. This conclusion, which I have come, was made manifest by Barbara Walters (and her minions) who host the talk show The View, which recently featured Barbara and her gals spewing rants which chastised, ripped, and roasted JB’s Q and A answers. Assuming that you inferred that my passionate profession of Beiber love implied the very opposite (that I detest his pop culture status and the mere fact that what which his name is attached is considered music (a.k.a., auto-tuning, a lyrical composition team, and the absence of pubic hair)); I type today, not to comment on his slipshod, sellout (this fallaciously presupposing being, at one point, in), shit-saturated, sad excuse/abuse for and of music. For that aim, at this point in his career, seems masturbatory, excessive, and completely unnecessary. To further acquit my point, my aim is not even concerned with JB’s inability to avoid having his pubeless member shoved into his mouth upon interviewing and questioning; but aims to defend, yes defend, the poor bastard. 

In the current issue of Rolling Stone, Beiber was inquired to his stance on premarital sex and abortion (leading to discussing rape). And while his responses were incredibly asinine, and while his justifications were ridiculously ass in place of mind, and while his ideologies were embarrassingly contradictory and unfounded, is there any logical or legitimate reason to why we were expecting anything less than absurd, mindless/pubeless donkey dick, sense evading answers? 

Vanessa Grigoriadis, Rolling Stone’s interviewer, defended both the questions asked and JB’s responses in the wake of criticism, stating "I think that anyone who has as much sway in popular culture as Justin should be asked all questions." Concerning any fan’s interest in what might be inspiring Beiber’s songs (Salina Gomez?), does serve a purpose. Inquiry regarding views which consistently evoke exceptional passion, debate, dissent, and critical thinking (abortion, premarital sex, the truth/falsity concerning whether things happen for a reason) however, might not be as relevant or permissible as Ms. Grigoriadis contends they are. With his defender accounted for, Barbara Walters’ minions needn’t be so caustic in their critique nor so bamboozled by his responses... The poor bastard is a sixteen year old pop star whose rise to fame arose out of parental puppeteering and market manipulation...a performing artist (I use the term reluctantly), who spends his time posing as opposed to performing, who accidentally and unfortunately is now deep-throating, slobbering on, and sucking money and media attention from the cock of the contemporary mainstream music industry (and he has been swallowing, as opposed to the alternative). Thus, I find it absolutely fucking absurd to chastise and criticize JB for not being well versed or the least bit educated in the classic Ethical/Moral/Normative abortion debate; or for not being a reputable reference regarding the morality of sexual intercourse (Beiber openly commending abstinence, a stance he might recant if he diverged from hip-hop to rock n’ roll); or for thinking that rape had some meaningful place in a divine creator’s plan for his (us) little monsters. But Beibs isn’t alone. There’s Ted Nugent and Mel Gibson and John Mayer and a gross slew of celebrities that present themselves as idiots because for some Ludicrous reason they were assumed not to be. And so it follows, that before Ted Nugent runs for president, he should probably take and successfully pass a college Poli-Sci 101 course. And that the romanticized portrayal of an event which already happened (sorry Scotland), does not make Hollywood’s favorite bigot a historian, a gifted or original scriptwriter , or even imply the possession of intellect beyond film production and formula (sorry Braveheart fans). Or that John Mayer’s attempt to “intellectualize” the word nigger does not make him in any sense an intellectual. Rolling Stone, go ahead and ask children your adult questions, just know the potential shit storm, and the controversial issue’s probable stagnant status of stand still. Barbara Walter’s peanut gallery, shut the fuck up. Diarrhea of the mouth generally proceeds from the content of the brain. I don’t give a shit that Justin Beiber is a dumbass. He is a pop star, not Immanuel Kant or David Hume or Kendall Walton or a sex education speaker. He’s not even Sarah Palin. Though I bet they’d make great conversation...