It's 1 am and I'm calling you .
Hating that bitch at the end of the line reciting " the person you have reached ..."
Is never available right now.
I feel so alone gripping the phone ,
I can't call you so late anymore .
Wanting to burn into you that
You are mine .
And everyone who touched you before is a fucking lie .
Across the street ,
The town .
The states .
I hate all of them right now .
And I know that this is
But it sucks that you were the first for me and I wasn't for you .
The abuser ,
The space filler ,
Now the Grecian pillar .
Hating classical way that
The years rubbed off the emotion from the chisel marks .
And you're like before my hands , and mouth and eyes .
My eyes ....
Always searching for yours .
In an empty room of the two of us still fucking searching for yours .
But maybe I am the first ,
And that's why I a prototype
Am still here . ™
cant't you stand a little rain?
A puddle here,
a puddle there
You squirm so helplessly,
desperately seeking out higher ground,
hurriedly scurrying for shelter,
but stuck in a rut
for want of dry land
Some lay before you,
a mass exodus of worm refugees
The blazing sun
shall work against you,
to parch the ground below
How cruel does this world
seem towards you
when all you want is to stay alive?
for one more day
The worm he dances swiftly up the ankle of my bones
He crests the waves of belt buckles and hips as smooth as stones
One wiggle closer to the prize
Of brainpan thoughts and wandering eyes
He brings with him a quaint disease
It breathes a wind that buckles knees
The knees that kept me standing, kept my pupils locked in line
Now this black worm has edged into the highway of my spine
The spiral steps and collar bone, a temporary hurdle
Luckily his slippery frame were made for such a battle
So up he goes to dive into my choppy, brainy sea
And loose the anchor off his ship, infecting happily
We feel it.
The low tenor and shimmering soprano
it fills us with a teasing rhythm
Amidst the warmth of a shallow breeze
Kindled by a roseate glimmer of fading fire
Impassioned with intent we make our way
from our warm bed in the grass
to climb together to alpine heights
nestled where we can best reach
The edge, the rim through which gods create
that dark abyss which sustains us
With an abrupt rush, we are lifted and consumed
There, the briefest glimmer of sparkling white
and we fall,
pushed by muscular cadence
And finally pulled
Here we move,
Rostellum pierce the pitch
We rook our God
Copyright ©2010-2013 Sean Winslow All Rights Reserved
Cover me now,
with the shadow of your hand.
Leave me blind,
for i’m the puppet in your plans.
Tear me up,
till every bone crumbles inside.
Leave me shackled,
fallen on your breast.
This pool of blood is yet to be,
I clutched the trigger you placed on my head
You’re my ticking time bomb.
I’m the masochist to my own fate.
I know you’re the toxic that exists
I know you’re the pain I could peel.
I know you’re the venom inside of me
I know you’re the worm in my veins I seek to feel.
Spit on me,
there is no shame in emptiness.
Lie from me,
your words tear holes in my flesh.
Take my soul
and put it to the test.
Tease me hard,
as I fall to temptation and sin.
I’ve inscribed your name on my walls in red,
with the agony you seeded oh so oft’
You’re my ticking time bomb.
and i’m about to set it off.
Kill me, I know it is coming to an end.
and leave with the promise that was never meant.
Feel me, just before I make the leap.
I still feel warm from your last caress
something that you couldn't have?
this is my story of how it is still driving me mad.
There’s a worm in my mind-
it’s called thoughts.
It eats away every inch of
my brain, night by night.
It is hurting me,
and I kind of felt
addicted to the pain.
And so the worms
taking over my