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Home of the Paranoid

by Psychic Sex

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about

(Poetry for the American Age.)
((Add volume and a climate of unease.))

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This is the junction where inspiration fails and words reflexively surface.

This music was written sporadically during a period of delirium brought on by accidental mismanagement of my type 1 diabetes. This is a record made under duress. In sickness, really. Poisoning myself, but seemingly also fending off infection from cultural and political forces beyond my control. It should be obvious that many of these songs were written during (and directly address) the run-up to the 2016 American election.

My poems are full of contradictory statements and polyphonic voices. Reeling as my body failed (much like reason around me), I tried my best to gather my thoughts and project them in a way that made sense.

This is a brainchild of demos from the distorted world. May it find you as despondent, confused, and frantic as this poetry found me.

credits

released July 27, 2018

Written, produced, recorded, and mastered by Kaelin Bougneit.
Summer 2015 - Winter 2017.

Cat. No. SBV-014

Cover photo by 'Lyza', manipulated from www.flickr.com/photos/lyza/49545547
(CC BY-SA 2.0)

license

all rights reserved

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about

Psychic Sex Portland, Oregon

Worrisome punk music.

Psychic Sex is Kaelin Bougneit

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Track Name: Sunshine (Every Man a Criminal)
Put the teenagers on patrol
Every man an officer his own
Broken streets that keep us thin
Don’t have no passport
Lost my wallet before they took us in

And I just want it all to end

Sunshine, anytime
Take the heat away

Tear apart the camp again
Kick the dead ones out and take whatever you can
I might collapse if I see the sun again
Don’t have no passport
I can’t let them find me like this

Sunshine, burn away the evil
Burn away the selfish
Burn away the ego
Sunshine
Sunshine

Just a little sunshine
What I wouldn’t give for some
Sunshine
Just a light
Just a little light

Put the teenagers on patrol
Don’t have no passport
Let’s see how long this goes
Track Name: Disconnection (A Sense of Resolve)
Don't even sit
Don't even think
Don't even hit hit hit hit hit
Your perversion makes me sick

Interstellar dilemma
Tune your energy
Blast into reality
Connect

Battle the interior
Confront all obstructions
Resolve all conflicts
Connect

I'll correct you in seconds
If you step out of place
I'll devise a new weapon
Apply constant pressure
Unfold and dismember
Dispose at my leisure

The untoward gestures
And wayward questions
De-louse this psyche
Refuse intentions

(Deep into the woods and repeat myself)
Track Name: We Sailed (A Lesson in Timelines)
We sailed
The way we sailed
We looked like the sea gave birth

We ate
The way we ate
We were the richest men on earth

They told me I could take it
They told me I could take it
They told me I could take it
It was mine
It was mine
It was mine
It was mine
It was mine

They fled
Oh the way they fled
They knew it was our right

They bled
Oh the way they bled
Like they didn’t even put up a fight

They told me I could take it
They told me I could take it
They told me I could take it
It was mine
It was mine
It was mine
It was mine
It was mine
Track Name: Thank You for Touching (The Sacred American Body)
When you stepped inside the cave, did you ever think you'd be
destroying something beautiful?
Track Name: Foreign Object (The Projection of Identity)
I hid behind myself
I left my heart behind
You think I'm someone else
I warned you I was blind
Track Name: Free (Portrait of a Perfect Human Being)
Besides this world there are several others you do not yet know.
Splitting open the plaster of infinity you see a human being
Alone, he has banished the following impurities from his body:

Anxiety derived from mechanical pleasure
Paranoid visions during somnolent periods
A chemical tendency to fear
An impulsive twitch when being asked questions
Pleasure derived from willful ignorance
Mild egotistical delusions
Depressive periods of cathemeral behavior
Panic in unfamiliar places
A woeful state of feigning indifference
Psychosomatic dysfunction provoked by shame
Reckless confusion when confronted by truth
A general dislike of hearing his own name

Breathe
We can agree
Breathe
And be free

Looking further out, you find a human being lost in a crowd
But it’s not he that is lost; the crowd has lost him.
You see traces and markings, people talking to ghosts,
Signs and signals; where did he go?
Looking further, a human being is riding a train.
He catches a glimpse of something amongst the alien landscape.
Breathless for a moment, but now he knows his direction
And you will never see him again.

Breathe
We can agree
Breathe
And be free
Blind of complication
Mind in combination

(How will I know when the time has passed?)
When the time has passed
Track Name: Flash Point (The Proliferation of Hate)
Nod your head, say yes, say yes
This is not a test, a test
With us or against, against
We'll be great again, again

What is there to see?
What is it to me?
False prosperity
You are not like me
You are not like me
You are not like me
Track Name: You're a Winner! / The Living Mannequin
The pack is playing fearless
They’re pulling up their pants
Catastrophe is genius
Perfect cover to advance
On the plus side you’re a winner
On the plus side you’re a winner
On the plus side you’re a winner
If you don’t know that you’ve lost

The player plays at feeling
Wielding fakeness like a pro
And what’s the point in hiding?
He still gets time on all their shows
On the plus side you’re a winner
On the plus side you’re a winner
On the plus side you’re a winner
If you don’t know that you’ve lost

The prick plays at a leader
Buys a Neumann, TV station
We don’t need no copyreader
If we make up the information
On the plus side you’re a winner
On the plus side you’re a winner
On the plus side you’re a winner
If you don’t know that you’ve lost

The pastor prays for justice
Preaching fear and fantasy
Whatever gets us through these troubled times
I know that God can’t judge me
On the plus side you’re a winner
On the plus side you’re a winner
On the plus side you’re a winner
If you don’t know that you’ve lost

At the very back of the liquor store
Back behind the discount rack
There is a metal door marked “Staff Only”
Open the door and see there, in the middle of the floor
A large, mahogany dresser
Open the drawers, see what’s inside
Outfits, every one your size
Double-breasted suit, work boots, temporary tattoos
Some fancy leather gloves, Aviators and jewels
Back outside, they don’t know what you’re into
They used to tell you, you can be anyone that you choose
But they never knew
That behind the entire perception of power
Lies a simple truth about knowing yourself
Every change that you’ve made changes you
So you’ve already become something else
The pariah, the messiah, the player, the prick
The pastor, the pack, the people
If all that you are is just muscle and will
Then passion must be the root of all evil

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