As alone I walk these emptied streets
the only rhythms heart and feet
I all around am sure I see
myself amidst the trees.
But no it cannot be, says me,
I am no scarecrowed bag of bones
whose clothes hang slack
and innards seep with leaves.
I am a man, methinks I say,
a human living breathing man
with no such predilections wrought
for suicidal sentiment.
It cannot is not mustn’t be me,
that body hanging limp in-tree,
that bullet ridden slumping form,
that sorry teenage lover-boy.

Mellifluous red noises
flow out from a violin like arm
with a bow of steel
and a song of death

Hands travelling over me,
I'm scared, holding back tears.
My heart pounds trying to fight back, but I'm paralyzed unable to protect myself.
And he holds me as if I were his to adore.

Now I wonder if I can ever be held again.

The dream so vague yet vividly
Reoccurring untill in focus.
And there you are
Your face
Your shades
Your smile
and you spoke.
The sound of your voice, nautical across my spine
Quelling the day's toils in my mind.

But now acutely awake
still wanting to be hear your voice
still wanting to see your enchanting beauty.
It's a shame hands of a dreamer grasps only air.

I wish my tactile hallucinations would give me a massage,
A warm hug from my non-existent mother,
A kiss from my long distance boyfriend.

A twisted fairytale

My hallucinations
They know what I fear most
And they want me to be afraid
They feed off my terror
They get off on my sick brain
They know what torments me.
Arachnophobia’s favorite game to play
The spiders
Come out of
My skin
They’ve been waiting patiently
When I’m most vulnerable
When I’m isolated
When I’m helpless

I wish my tactile hallucinations would
**** me