This head on a spike
Well it's turning blue
Talking 'bout why I'd like
The splendor of his view
"From up on high"
he says to me
"All thing under the sky are mine to see"
And long and hard I sat and thought
of things for me my body got
and then I stood with my decree
and hoped he'd make good company

Introspection is cheaper than a horror film and its nightmares will chase you long after Freddy's hands are arthritic and the blades they operate are rusty and impotent. Here I am in this roach den with musty sheets and carpet stains. The place I retreat to in blind panic without considering escape. Here it is, peeling wallpaper and cigarette burns are the hems of skirts you tug and cry to, PICK ME UP PICK ME UP! Inside it is empty, truly empty, no trace of a whispering current in the draft or its cryptic revelations woven under the surface, no beetles scrambling around the corpse to tell its secrets. There is truly nothing and I don't know who called this vacancy "inner peace". It's a motel room with empty drawers and the water is some shade of red and every page has been torn from the Gideon's Bible to roll joints and make origami cranes and  free throws into wastebaskets filled with scribbled poetry and compulsively written lists.

Your backseat,
that backward pickpocket,
that schemer taking cell phones and jackets and wallets
the pilfered seeds sewn, like lighthouses when they sprout
guiding me back again
back to you
back to that fucking backseat

I'm an infant
crawling with unformed senses from arm to arm
ready to be mystified if I knew the meaning of the word
Feeling the curves and dimensions of the world
of its curious things with lips and fumbling fingers
Green as a rye mold
and my dreams are hallucinations brought on by its consumption

A showdown on Sunset
At sundown the two met
A breakdown of Corvettes
Cellphones drawn by execs
From holsters, my wild west
On speed dial is the best
Lawyers to slow down, lay to rest
This showdown of suits neatly pressed

Oh, the ineffectual deluded intellectual
Cream of the crop barstool philosopher
Yes, you are included
Potential does not excuse the fool
Nor does a place at the top
In debates at coffeeshops
Indicate a prowess that places beyond school
Unbound by reality is your perception
Of yourself as some exception
Some paragon of cool
Please proceed with your perspective
Surely there is no source better respected

My mind it's bent and sanity spent
To stay I must pay rent each day
Too deep in debt I must invent
The tenents who president and sway
They're here and clearly won't relent
Grown fond of say in the events
They steer me into foggy gray
Veer from the sun, its every ray

A pale clouded gaze betrays his depression
To observers of his pained expression
The cast of ghosts in his stories
Are joined in morbid succession
By faceless names that tangle
In webs indecipherabley knotted
Seldom unraveled are histories
Of faces so wrinkled and rotted
The tragedy of burrowed dreams
The eye's gleam down below
When they've already spotted
A grave before it's body's has been plotted.

Refuge from reality
Neverland's necessity
Chasing the whims of Shadow
Crowing at the moon's sad glow

Freedom from monotony
A childhood philosophy
Perseveres in light of fears
Long adheres in spite of years

Flee the world of decision
Distance mistake's incision
A brash heart's circumcision
Nulls care of peer's derision.

"You gotta let go and crow!"

Lonely wrath flows undaunted.
Solitude grows intentions, haunted.
Warped by wayward wanting.
Cruelty sharpens savage impulse,
A call forever taunting.
Twisting, hardly resisting action,
Dark fantasies consume factions,
Of a psyche ripped in fractions.

I am swimming in my coffin,
A plush cage of silk and satin.
Hollow housing what's gone rotten
Cold vacuum of the forgotten.

Backfired plan, ran from a quagmire.
"Departure" from unquenched desire.
A notionless naivetty,
Breeds ambitionless apathy.

I'm placid, pallid, on the floor,
In yearning dreams from days of yore.
An idyllic end depicted,
To deep rooted pain inflicted.

Yet...

Curtains' fall is ill-begotten,
By memory I am sought in,
A cacophony, my casket.
No sanity can outlast it.

Eat my heart like a sideshow geek
Taste the blandness of the meek
Make pulp of every last piece
Of the hot, quivering, meat
In your blackened teeth and eat
Without cease and never speak

Mechanical suicide it's the way of the future
We slice and dice for a nominal price
Too deep for any suture
Drop a dime it's worth your time
In pieces you'll find peace of mind
The last to succumb
Are the numb and blind
In the twilight of mankind.

Immaculate confection
In the market stands.
A sign touts it's perfection,
It wont melt in your hands.
A sacrament for your protection
Back by popular demand.
No less than a Chocolate Jesus
My tender little lambs.

Childhood trauma turns to teenage stigmata,
The shit hit the fan and I'm banned from nirvana.
Paradise is out of sight, that's the basic gist
Despite the broadcast of the sadist televangelists.
The fables of premium cable, channel six hundred sixty six.
Gone are Heaven and Hell to quell the existential fix.
There is no moral right, my solitary gaurantee
Bliss is a smoke and mirror trick, there'll always be a fee.

Flaccid smiles
On placid servile men
Tending to linoleaum aisles
A worthwhile ending
For men beyond mending
Name tag exile
Collecting dust
For every tile
The soul rusts
With each paced mile

I blink, a wrinkled fold of skin
Holding back and damming in
What's betrayed in my brown gaze.
A thoughtless instance, this womb-light instant
Punctuates the days
And the autumn ringed origins of two parallel rays.

The chaffed red thighs of the streetwalker
And darting yellowed eyes of the nervous talker
Do not meet in this celibate exchange
This strange therapy in a musty room
No thrusting hips or sweaty faces loom
Niether dips down or drips above the other
With weight of body or intent that smothers
No sound of slapping skin
She punches in the clock
Sits, looks, listens
He licks his chewed lips
And in the light they glisten

Winter-welded hands to pockets
Midnight suburban Davey Crockets
Shuffling feets, thoughts on gold lockets
Meet nodders, speeders, window peekers
Out and about, we candid seekers

Hearts of flint spark when collided
Bright bursts of light illuminate
Two paths finite convergance
Its a splayed line frayed where divided
Then returned to darkness winding blinded
Temptress spark degenerate
Into a throb of blunted thunder
Doomed to resonate
Their cataclysmic blunder
Permanence, a word unraveled
Illusions torn and thrown assunder