THOUGHTAHOLIC RELAPSE

alternative hip-hop, spoken word, experimental electronic

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V5.5

[INTRO - SPOKEN]
(Clears throat)
Hi…
I’m Dustin.
And…
I recently relapsed.
(Pause)
[ACT I - THE ROLLER COASTER]
I’m an emotional roller coaster.
Internal “whore moaning.”
Fear imposing.
Growing pains.
Blowing me.
Showing me.
A gender reveal party
Filled with multi-colored cupcakes
Throwing me.
Looping me.
Queer questions.
Confusing concepts.
Wait…
Hormoning.
Blazed paths.
Burning flames.
Choking days.
Suffocating ways.
Bent overhead.
Overthinking stays.
[BUILD]
And somewhere in the middle
Of all that noise…
I stop and ask myself:
Does any of this even make sense?
[ACT II - THE JAR]
Traumatic screams
Teaching us to hold our breath.
Leave our bodies.
Reach toward a light
Promising it might be right.
Ignoring the bright darkness
Of the night.
Blinding stars.
Seeming so far.
A lost cause
Finding itself
In the same spot.
Like a firefly
Trapped in a jar.
Glass walls.
Reflections.
Architectural manifestations.
The creator’s imagination
Still bouncing off projections.
[BUILD]
The only air available
Comes through the slits.
Different perspectives
Defending it.
Justifying what lies beneath.
Behind.
To the right.
Of the left side of sight.
[BREAKDOWN]
And somehow…
The rules loosen.
Just enough.
To fit around my neck.
And pull the noose tight.
(Pause)
[ACT III - THE LIGHTNING BUG]
But before the body drops…
The thoughts arrive.
Like the same lightning bug
Living the same life.
Only now
I’m trapped
Inside a child’s hands.
They’re laughing.
Running.
Jumping.
Chasing my glow.
The same way
I chase my own.
[BEAT BUILDS]
And it comes.
And goes.
Like emotions.
Like free thought.
Like memories.
Like fear.
[ACT IV - THE RELAPSE]
Living in the year 2000.
Watching Eminem
Walk his dead Rottweiler.
Slim screaming.
The dog still barking.
Not giving a fuck.
Not afraid.
And suddenly…
I’m yelling too.
Because I’ve traveled
That same road.
Swallowing
What the minutes made.
[CLIMAX]
A thoughta-fucking-holic.
Relapsed.
Back to keep intact
The exact unknown facts.
Dark light.
Balance acts.
Too slack to fall down.
Too heavy to rise up.
Emotions crash.
Feelings clash.
Thoughts laugh.
And visions…
Well…
Visions mask.
[PAUSE]
They mask the present.
Preserve the gaps.
Grab the trash.
Recycle tendencies.
Like a sidewalk on crack.
[OUTRO - SPOKEN]
Thank you…
For attending
Thoughtaholics Anonymous.
Looking to be found.
Remaining lost.
Hidden in plain sight.
Inside God’s pocket.
(Pause)
My name is Dustin.
And…
I recently relapsed.

2432/7500

[INTRO - SPOKEN] (Clears throat) Hi… I’m Dustin. And… I recently relapsed. (Pause) [ACT I - THE ROLLER COASTER] I’m an emotional roller coaster. Internal “whore moaning.” Fear imposing. Growing pains. Blowing me. Showing me. A gender reveal party Filled with multi-colored cupcakes Throwing me. Looping me. Queer questions. Confusing concepts. Wait… Hormoning. Blazed paths. Burning flames. Choking days. Suffocating ways. Bent overhead. Overthinking stays. [BUILD] And somewhere in the middle Of all that noise… I stop and ask myself: Does any of this even make sense? [ACT II - THE JAR] Traumatic screams Teaching us to hold our breath. Leave our bodies. Reach toward a light Promising it might be right. Ignoring the bright darkness Of the night. Blinding stars. Seeming so far. A lost cause Finding itself In the same spot. Like a firefly Trapped in a jar. Glass walls. Reflections. Architectural manifestations. The creator’s imagination Still bouncing off projections. [BUILD] The only air available Comes through the slits. Different perspectives Defending it. Justifying what lies beneath. Behind. To the right. Of the left side of sight. [BREAKDOWN] And somehow… The rules loosen. Just enough. To fit around my neck. And pull the noose tight. (Pause) [ACT III - THE LIGHTNING BUG] But before the body drops… The thoughts arrive. Like the same lightning bug Living the same life. Only now I’m trapped Inside a child’s hands. They’re laughing. Running. Jumping. Chasing my glow. The same way I chase my own. [BEAT BUILDS] And it comes. And goes. Like emotions. Like free thought. Like memories. Like fear. [ACT IV - THE RELAPSE] Living in the year 2000. Watching Eminem Walk his dead Rottweiler. Slim screaming. The dog still barking. Not giving a fuck. Not afraid. And suddenly… I’m yelling too. Because I’ve traveled That same road. Swallowing What the minutes made. [CLIMAX] A thoughta-fucking-holic. Relapsed. Back to keep intact The exact unknown facts. Dark light. Balance acts. Too slack to fall down. Too heavy to rise up. Emotions crash. Feelings clash. Thoughts laugh. And visions… Well… Visions mask. [PAUSE] They mask the present. Preserve the gaps. Grab the trash. Recycle tendencies. Like a sidewalk on crack. [OUTRO - SPOKEN] Thank you… For attending Thoughtaholics Anonymous. Looking to be found. Remaining lost. Hidden in plain sight. Inside God’s pocket. (Pause) My name is Dustin. And… I recently relapsed.

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