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Quitting Tomorrow

by Variex

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1.
Reside In Waves 03:20
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reside in waves cobwebs in the closet connecting thoughts to a dying misinterpretation of hope. in this stagnant existence, my calendar ends where the letters of your name stop spelling themselves across the holes in my weaknesses. one day when you forget me and the secrets only you knew, i will be contemplating how our fingers could still be intertwined, or how your skin resonates with my bedroom voice. caught between the crosshairs of your selfish lips and my selflessness. here’s to self-medication. how does something so wonderful – a picture perfect dream turned reality, a rare sun burning away all clouds, a warm touch to diminish every worry, a connection vivid enough to reside in, an endless opportunity – suddenly, without warning, cease to exist? that’s all it takes to realize how alone we are. in bittersweet dreams, following your scent with an umbrella for two tied around my neck. waited, waited, waited, waited, waited. gave in, gave up, found it. held it closer than that scar in my chest where my heart should be. closed my eyes next to love and when i woke up, i lost it. fuck evolution. the deep end is but a stone’s throw away. and that vast beautiful blue never presented itself so invitingly.
2.
Alarm Clock Headache 05:22
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alarm clock headache alarm clock headache, i love the a.m. drag my ass out of bed and wait for the day to end. so when i get back home and break bread with the skeletons in my closet, they can take away my stress. more is imperative than paper and a pen to create something better than yet another ashamed attempt at viewing life any way instead of a blue framed lens or that painting of the end where everyone is chasing death. save your breath, you’ll need it for the exhale when that twenty four seven stomach pain sets sail in your veins, and drags you away on a stretcher to hell. it’s no wonder why you don’t have any respect for yourself. living in a dusty corner, taking a step right off that shelf onto the dark edge of existence where the pressure seems to swell in our heads and hands and expands at will. the daily’s on fast forward but my feet are standing still on a soiled train of thought that keeps sprouting up daffodils. past life out the window, continuous tapping on the sill. there isn’t enough time to get lost in all of the music in the world, so we do our best to capture these moments and let the beauty unfurl. don’t you ever get any deeper than that. walking along the shore with your feet in the sand. or wading in shallow waters with a beer in your hand. you can’t see below the surface but ya’ll think it’s clear as glass. i woke up drenched in a puddle of cold sweat, rolled out of bed with marionette strings holding up my head. why do we need a couple of drinks in order to say what we mean? raise your fist to the sky if you take pride in making love to your dreams. i swear there was a day when our lives made sense and we sunk into the grass instead of climbing the fence. i’ll be digging through notebooks until i find my head, to screw it back on whether i’m alive or dead. the motions have me in a vice grip and it isn’t worth the battle. tiptoeing up subway stairs to feel that cold san francisco breeze hit me like a slap to the face harder than chasing after the cheese in a skyscraper rat maze. running through my mental but i can’t seem to get in damn shape. witnessing my universe dissolve into an ashtray. it’s a beautiful day to be under the same sun. now we can talk about the clouds or wherever you came from. i want my children to eat better than a value menu meal. still we compete to keep our lives from spilling right into the street. i see the words in your mouth, pick em from your teeth and spit em out. if only you could tell me from what exactly you’re hiding. surely not almighty flying red, white, and blue on a kite string. the puppet master higher being with fingertips of lightning made to excite the breeze in the sky, too real for the eye to see. what would your friends and family think of you if you actually knew how to be yourself in front of them? some of us had to bleed to keep feeling that magic still. i was probably sweating because my head is far too heavy to rest on my shoulders steadily. in the crooked pace of the city streets i might be floating away on a pigeon wing.
3.
Milk Carton Expressions 03:19
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milk carton expressions all of these people are so difficult to please. but i’m only trying not to trip over my feet, like my lifeless future in the middle of the street that has given me this opportunity to finally take a photograph of my better days. before we wanted to get away from everything that ever knew our name that we now use to fuel the flame. knowing i shouldn’t have even arrived at this party. i would love nothing more than to go home and wash tonight off me. you’ll be on your way to some place like texas or chicago. i’ll be driving aimlessly with my face on a broken bottle, full throttle. keeping our distance the farthest from tomorrow. your hollow words are too hard for me to swallow. following my shadow between my steps on the pavement, awaiting that escape of my 3 a.m. exhalation. cut me out, fold me up, stick me in your pocket for another rainy day or whatever. fifteen dollars an hour to shred papers. ain’t nothing worse than wasting words for a paycheck. now what if i became a high school english teacher or actually wrote that ambiguous semi-autobiographical novel that nobody i know will ever read. would you still spill milk in my sleep? too many faces in line at raymond’s bakery, i had to take a step outside to catch a fresh rabbit rabbit to the dome piece. no holy sticky finger sunday afternoon on these wooden planks. would you swerve into the adjacent lane or into the rail on top of the mountain overlooking the bay? i mean, it would be a more scenic way to go down in any case. and i’ll send you a postcard if i think twice. the pretty colors we rely on to keep us distracted bleed out of our dreams and leak all over the mattress. up to my neck in ashes when this long day’s over. looking like i took the fucking wrong way home. and i did.
4.
Picture Frame 04:25
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picture frame this one is spinning the planet on her middle finger, as a cardboard cutout circus act. this one is aiming a bullet at your head, pressed to your temple and there is no turning back. this one is far too eager to pull the trigger, shooting rainbows at a cast iron sky. this one is carving a hole into your chest, the safest place to climb inside and hide. sooner or later the day by day’s bound to rollover, and i’m gonna have to make sure my head stays on my shoulders and doesn’t fall off, wander away, and get lost in a spectacular haze of purple days and raindrops. your sepia sunglasses with the rough cracked frame you always see the world through. people have so much more to offer than they ever want to let in from the surface view, like you. how i’m gonna miss these days, when they slip from my grip and drift away. we can make memories or sit and wait for the dust to collect on our picture frame. snapshot, smile. all teeth for the lens flare. snapshot, smile. photograph for the cause. snapshot, smile. strike a pose in dead air. snapshot, smile. forget about who you are. forget about who you were meant to be. staring at the sun, bleeding into my brain. either this feels like love or am i finally insane? red ink quit staining pages when the threats fulfilled themselves and we slipped out of our shells into this dream they live to sell. now i walk this road along the thoughts in my skull, in between the lost souls and the crosses they hold. see, we fought for love when the world fought for gold. playing the hand you’re dealt just to see the cards fold again. babies with cell phones, toddlers with guns. everybody’s eating pills and they’re always on the run from the voice of inevitability calling from above. look up, catch your reflection falling from the sun. now i know ya’ll came here for something more than a handshake and small talk from a soapbox opera. everything in its proper place is a beat up jigsaw puzzle box, and we’ll be tearing it all apart to give it another shot. but it’s deeper than that, deeper than that still. you’ll be the first rolling away on some faster wheels. yesterday chasing after you, with an attitude nipping at your heels like…
5.
Penny Jar Cavity 04:57
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penny jar cavity he needs a purpose and a new way to clean up the mess of butterflies cluttering his mind, or at least whatever’s left. going through the motions knowing his heart sunk in his chest. out the world but still always stuck in his head. under the pressure of a ticking time bomb, either that or i’ll never wake up again to the sound of tomorrow beating on my front door with a full clip of grin and bear it. san francisco memories by needlepoint introduced to your flesh canvas as if you wouldn’t be able to keep your voice. tossing and turning, beating the life out of my pillow. what have you been learning? i remember when the times were all so simple. why do we always seem to keep stumbling over the little things? i was probably nodding my head listening to the rhythm of the wind in the trees. in my holiday sweater guillotine, at least i can see the bay from the twenty fourth floor. window shopping for those scotch tape bifocals, the broken record that kept spinning for nine years. singlehandedly faulting millennium for the current collective of crooked perspectives. people watching people on reality television but i find people in reality more entertaining anyway. keep your pennies locked up in case the devil herself might be on her way. leave your distance when she calls your name. she’ll let you take a picture when she falls from grace. in a rose tinted paper boat floating below the surface of a boiling iceberg, paddling with scissors. scratching to pierce the skin on each one of your seven layers, grinning to yourself, the tragedy in the mirror. reminiscent of a misguided middle school gangster rapper keeping it real like everyone else. your whole disposition reminds me of vacuuming ants off the bathroom tile. performing my tenderloin shuffle in rush hour sidewalk traffic, no place to catch a breath. in between aliens cashing checks and blowing cigarette smoke as a fashion trend. claustrophobia bubble wrapped and sent off to watch another tired sunrise. confrontations of the highest test every time the curtains lie to rest. i swear to love they know you’re hiding there. you’ll find your life a mess. observations from the lion’s den. safe in the cage, they’re blind and deaf. i swear to love they know you’re playing dead. you’ll find your life a mess.
6.
Sea Breeze Elevation 03:54
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sea breeze elevation a grain of sand carried by the wind over a postcard worthy body. landing on the surface, waves all split. rise up to the sky, ultimately fall and crash down on a meditative shoreline inhabited by everything we were. reversing the effects of a low tide and turning the coastal scene into a blur. this easel is soaking up the downpour, nearly solidified into a sheet of ice. ripping through the canvas crafted by the outdoors. double take sunny days have you think twice. impossibilities existing in a lucid dream, shaken to reality splashing on the shore. hopscotch apocalypse, shoes on my feet. air in my lungs, what more could one ask for? the violence of the current forms on the surface of the ocean floor. erupting and burning up the shore, it’s a picture perfect storm. the whirling wind has us surrounded by mist transformed into a fog that comes as darkness brought by clouds in the sky. the black curtain that blocks out the sun. no last breath, nothing overhead but that big golden death that swallows us. falling up into that hole we ascend. every name, every face, every thought turns to dust. blowing away like a pile of ash. our existence is a mirror of nature. trudge through memory to survive the past, and the future’s only a matter of what we take there. a grain of sand carried by the wind of a pacific breeze over the bay. a beautiful disaster i can’t witness that all begins below the waves.
7.
Nostalgia's Coloring Book 04:04
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nostalgia’s coloring book they’ll send you to hell in a fast food paper bag. with a one way ticket and a camera for the memories. they want that boom clap from the cat in the hat, but i’m strapped with self-sacrifice to put it back on the map. half grinning stupidly, all fucking nostalgic on that daily merry-go-round rolling up sunshine in traffic. feeding off each other’s sicknesses and distant birthday wishes. this city is a goddamn playground inhabited by derelicts, with their american spirit. i never understood what it meant to be hypnotized from the inside out. biting my tongue to keep the words from spilling out of my mouth, spiraling down from the sky like my neck tied to a cloud. my bad dreams have all become more vivid this past week and i can’t seem to tell the difference between them and reality. the streets stained with the paint dripping off our faces into murals that fade away at every day break, like our paper mache souls or my razor blade throat. my face won’t hit those angles until my psyche’s wearing a raincoat. my grandfather’s garden growing weeds uncontrollably like the dead lawn and wilted petals collecting spider webs. stray cats finding shelter in overgrown bushes and dirty gutter water bird baths. my grandmother tapping her thumbs on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the radio in the red tempo. now we keep wind chimes on the front door so we know when she’s leaving home. do you wake up in the morning, look into the mirror and think, “this is how i see myself, maybe i should take a picture of me?” always the last ear to reach the breeze and first to implode. you can stitch the seams together but can’t hide the burn holes. wading in the sinking sand of generation wasteland. they only shake your hand to let it go. one for the stepping stones, two for the echo, three to get inside your head, and four to lock the deadbolt. one foot over the other in a cartoon cityscape of thieves. you’ve got to learn to give yourself in moderation. the way you choose your colors is like a tragedy gone make believe. twisting your tongue into a knot just for the sake of conversation. guns, weapons, fashion crime, drugs, stress, in the backs of minds. till your setting sun ends up cracking the sky, one step at a time. love, sex, passion, spite, blood, sweat, the grand design. from death, every chapter of life. one step at a time.
8.
Wasted Weaponry 04:55
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wasted weaponry black ink to symbolize the only road taken, where shadows get caught in between the holes in the pavement. running your fingers over the surface to trace the lines that lead us to a deeper meaning so sacred. the pinprick into your thick skin for good, with the perception of the liquid that always goes misunderstood. dripping into whatever you want to become, so pick and choose your undeniable worth when the rhythm begins to pull. sinking through the mess of a future past life of new flesh. anything to keep the memories of you fresh, while convincing ourselves that are bodies are still not useless. sever purity and cauterize the loose ends. embrace identity, the recipe for setting free the creative self-proclamation of destiny. enduring the pain to chase away the enemies that we conjured from the ground up with our wasted weaponry. they’re always running like they’ll never come back, but i can see them think twice from a lifetime away. no sun on this path, stumbling over your tracks. showing the world with no words how you define your name. mother nature forbid they see it as a flaw. willing to settle in stone and bleed for the cause. the battle for definition remains a free for all so we cover up the questions as protection from feeling small and exposed. all previous notions to be let go, when the voice of reason is a slowly decaying echo. try to walk the line between desire and necessity without stepping on toes, or at least not on your own. wishing in a salt water well, high expectations and a threshold you can’t acknowledge was crossed. caught up in reflection of all the time we wasted. the train of thought we follow to hop on and get lost. whether life, love, or god, we all have our reasons to keep reaching with no net to fall back on. burning like the sun to your retinas just to be consumed by permanency seeping through exteriors of me and you. no matter the measurement of sentimental blemishes, twisting around, in and out of a circular motion. peripheral background noise developing into your intention. analogous to life perpendicular to the ocean. walking in backwards, authoring your own canvas. breathless, teeth clenched. in a place you won’t be found where even the brightest stars vanish. hold it in, lose yourself in a deep breath. no matter however you measure it, we all have sentiments under these blemishes. twisting around, in and out of another circular motion. peripheral background noise steadily developing into your intention. analogous to life perpendicular to the ocean. walking in backwards, lending yourself to the author’s canvas. breathless, teeth clenched. in a place that you wouldn’t be found where even the brightest stars vanish. hold it in, lose yourself in a deep breath.
9.
Hypnagogic Shrapnel 04:43
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hypnagogic shrapnel in the morning when i wake with my poker face, i spread the wings on my shoulder blades, look for the greener grass and float away until I end up rolling in my own grave. skipping stones across this lake to remind myself i can be another name the ocean takes or remain closed in my cage. live for today, tomorrow we will all witness our halos fade behind our horns into a makeshift crown of thorns at the open gates. rusted at the hinges even though they paint this world through a golden frame. rewarded by your favorite bouquet in a broken vase. constellation tightrope walking, counting the stars across my knuckles. tracing lines and connecting dots of all of the scars i love too. running through a spilt milk canvas, whatever monkey see, monkey do. blanketed by that sinking cave that always comes for you. consumed in a kaleidoscopic haze in front of our eyes. any time we even think to blink and turn around, we know we’re color blind. losing grip on a dying sunshine that was once mine. but you’ll come to find what you thought was gone never went anywhere at all. now when you finally close your eyes you dissolve into a world that’s make believe. spinning on top of your head with a butterfly net just chasing dreams. catch me falling all over my good intentions. look into the mirror, face defeat. if you make it to peace, bring fire and save me a seat. this daily vacancy is a shattered fantasy, like sitting behind the wheel and splashing into the sea or living your days fast asleep. from this bird’s eye perspective i can’t see anything past my feet. it’s blasphemy observing mother nature laugh at me. crash test dummy view of life. reflection asking who am i. head turned up right to the sky, awaiting our collective suicide. swimming below the surface, reaching for a breath to mold your purpose into a beautiful mess that you can’t contest when your soul is burning. like the words that spill out of you into a waterfall of disillusioned nightmares. color me out of touch. whether i’m taking a step or wasting my breath, i’m waking up with my head in a haze. i can’t ever seem to get away from myself and escape to a better day. i’ve been getting tired of hearing all of these sirens every time i try to find peace inside of the silence.
10.
Change Of Scenery 03:41
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change of scenery everything eventually will settle into its own. cracked down the center, it’s the life of a stepping stone. study to practice failing at the art of letting go. waiting until i can exhale a single breath of hope. whenever you finally reach that happiness feeling free, living it up and making something real out of your dreams, turn west to the sunset and kiss the breeze for me. head stitched to the sky, always bleeding out the seams. i wonder what you’ll remember but i can’t forget a damn thing. the bullets inside my chest keep my heart dancing on a post heaven life raft. watching the past drift out with the tide, along with what it meant to be romantic. love always finds its way home, but not with you. struggling to keep an optimistic view. i’ve got my mind on my life and my money’s on fire. we will be nothing more than another example lost in time. it’s that serrated edge around your lips that keeps tearing through the shell that i’ve tried to preserve. with our bodies weaving into something we couldn’t separate, embraced by the beauty of mutual release. electric to the touch, it was once bliss. a future of possibilities stolen from a kiss. they say when you find it, try not to let it go. and i have been holding on for as long as i am able. but it’s a knotted noose thinking about somebody else’s silhouette keeping you warm when the space heater’s in the living room. broken into more pieces than i thought i was made of. the tragedy of us no longer fitting together. my love, i’ll miss you more than you’ll understand. but you changed my life for the better and kept me humble. dearest friend, i sincerely wish you the best. and just know that i love you.
11.
Twilight Haze 03:09
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twilight haze consumed by a midlife crisis two years shy of a quarter century. and i’ll waste the rest of it just trying to understand why all of my best times now only exist in a photo album. don’t let me in, i’ll throw your life off track in a single heartbeat. under a steady heavy dose of distraction, hung over for six weeks straight. my inspiration’s stuck underneath your vintage shoes. she said, “take care of yourself, i must be leaving.” she’s already on her way. the memories slipping through the cracks of my empty hands, like the last chapter of my life set ablaze right in front of my eyes. kicking at the scraps of this missing happiness that she ran off with. forever’s not as long as it used to be. the first and the last. you’ll be the one that got away…

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Written, produced, mixed, and mastered by Variex.

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released May 8, 2010

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Variex Oakland, California

Variex is a Bay Area, CA based music producer, rapper, and engineer. He is a co-founder of the New Cocoon collective and has worked with artists like Ceschi, Factor, 2Mex, and Alias. He has also shared the stage with Cage and Sadistik, released an album on Milled Pavement Records, and founded his own label, Red Tempo Records. Variex's newest album, Struggle Sandwich, is out now. ... more

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