I've never been good at poker
But me and Life played a game
I pulled a horrid, useless hand
And lost every penny to my name

The consequences were harsh
Life gave me them with a smile
With very little to work with
To overcome the trials

Life gave me keloid scars
Life gave me misophonia
Life gave me depression
Life gave me paranoia

And panic attacks
And a fear of love
(And a huge nose
As if I hadn't had enough)

And I'm meant to accept my "spoils"
From a horrid poker game
And spend years of my life
Pretending I'm okay

I'm supposed to laugh
And have a smile on my face
But what emotion should I show
When the audience walks away?

I'm supposed to do this
Without being too fake
But how can one be genuine
While wearing the facades they make?

So when others ask why I'm suicidal
When they ask why I find everything bland
When they try to fix my apathy
I just tell them "I drew a bad hand"

night after night
she walks into wonderland
under hazy streetlights
to let thorns
shred her delicate petals
now her rosebud, gone forever

her eyes as dark
as the rolling tires
on the highways
that she sells herself on
sell your soul to the devil
he will let you keep the change

drunk on despair
and living on borrowed time
the wolves of yesterday
the dirt under her fingernails
linger like the voices
of the monsters under her bed

creamy thighs spread wide
for an endless audience
to spoon her milky honey
lick their fingers clean
clean of their conscience
the white washed walls

may the prickly blood
of the cold winter
not stain the white walls
or shrivel the leaves
but lead her to the water
and set sail in a teardrop

The hallway seemed to sway with the motion of the tears filling my eyes. I tried to keep going to get to the door, but I collapsed there in the hall. The weight crashing down on me. She was dead. My only love was dead. I’d been with her for six years and we’d been waiting to get married. That was all over now. They had killed her. I laid my head in my hands and let it all go. I fell spiraling down into the darkness at the edge of my consciousness. My very last thoughts echoing in my head as I slipped into this grief coma, they would all pay, they would pay.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly as I made my way to Mr. Jefferson’s office. The hallways were empty, an unusual thing for a Monday morning in a business firm. I tried not to let it get in my head. I had a job to fulfill. If I didn't get this one right the boss would surely wring my neck. She wasn't the most understanding person, and tolerated no mistakes. A dark cherry wood door lay at the end of the long hallway with a silver plate spelling out Mr. Jefferson’s office. All the other doors I had passed had, had similar ones.
I knocked on the door quietly waiting for an invitation inside. I took a deep breath and steady myself. Telling myself I had to do this. There was still no beckoning to come in so I knocked louder, but was only greeted by silence. I opened the door quickly and peered in. Mr. Jefferson laid slumped over his paper work in the messy piles on his desk.
A bullet through his head. Well this was just great now the boss had another reason to chew me out. I closed the door quietly and made my way to the body. Blood spilled from the back of his head and off his shoulders dripping into the puddle on the floor. I took my phone from my pants pocket and called Leo.
“Hey, Leo we got a problem, Jefferson’s already dead. They’re a step ahead of us. What’s my next move?” the line was silent for a minute until he replied, “what was the cause of death?” I looked at the back of Jefferson’s head one more time to make sure that was no other abrasions. “Bullet wound in the back of his head, no sign of struggle either.”
“Alright, I’ll inform the boss. You should probably make your way back to the headquarters. I can tell you now the boss isn't going to be happy.” I sighed I already new that. The bitch had been riding my ass all month now. It wouldn't hurt her to give us all a break once in a while. I closed my phone. I made my way out the door. No doubt someone else would find Jefferson and would immediately go for the video tapes.
Luckily I didn't come here alone, I brought my computer genius along, that could erase us from every tape and cover his tracks. I gave a polite smile to each person I passed and had to fight to walk calm and smoothly out the front doors. Brain already waited inside the car looking anxious. We were both fairly new to the working in the field. Usually the boss assigned me on small assignments. I got inside the drivers side and pulled out right away. “Jefferson was already dead when I got there, bullet wound to the back of the head, what I don’t understand is how no one heard it, or why he didn't struggle,” I told Brian. “Maybe a silencer on the gun? And perhaps his lack of struggle was because there was a gun pointed at his head?” I thought it over. It was possible but that was different from all the others. “They usually cover their tracks better than that though,” I looked over at Brain whose face was crinkled by his deep thoughts. “Maybe they were in a rush?” The wound had looked freshly made. “Perhaps,” I said still mulling it over. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait for the police reports.”

As I had figured Liana was furious. “How is it that four out of seven of the people I've told you to get information from then take out have ended up already dead when you got there?” She spit angrily in my face. Liana was a scary lady but she didn't scare me.
“I don’t know you tell me,” I said and smiled at her. I could feel the audience behind me stop what they were doing and cringe. “Do you think this is funny?” Liana said quietly.
Her face had gone rigid and her fist clenched so tightly at her sides, the knuckles had turned a ghostly white.
I knew which battles to fight and which to surrender. “No, nothing is funny,” I spat out clenching my jaw. I really hated this stupid job. If it wasn't for Liana keeping my brother alive I wouldn't be here. And just as I thought it Liana cheerfully reminded me, “do remember darling, your brothers life lies in my hands. One wrong move and it’s bye bye brother, understood?” Her dark eye’s drilling into mine. The feeling of hatred seeped from my body as it was overflowing inside me now. “Understood,” I growled.
“Good, now get out. I’ll call you when I have your next assignment.” She turned but stopped to look back,
“ and next time do not mess up,” then walked back into her office slamming the door.
I let the breath I had been holding out and left quickly before they all burned holes into me with their heavy glares. I made my way to Kyle’s room. The walls were painted dark blue with small silver stars painted all over. I had painted it for him, he loved the stars. “Kyle?” I said shakily looking down at the boy. His tiny body shaking in pain. He wouldn't eat. The vomiting broke his bones sometimes. His bones stuck through his skin like his skin had only been draped over his frail bones. The tears flowed from my eye’s and down my face. He was only fifteen.
He was so sick, I just wanted him to be okay. Healthy again. The reason I’d signed up to join this place was because they promised to save him. They said as soon as I finished the biggest assignment they would heal him. But I grew more and more doubtful.
Kyle had been infected, by the scientist. A super parasite they’d created. It caused brain disorders, like anorexia. Kyle’s brain was being attacked making him suicidal and making him believe he was anorexic. Making him believe he had to do these things. When it first started he was only depressed. He began cutting himself. When I saw the deep cuts in his arms and on his stomach  I asked him about it and his answer had been, “I didn't want to do I just had to“ . At the time I’d misunderstood him.
Now I knew. He literally had been forced by the parasites inside his brain.
His eye’s were closed and I could see the struggle it took for him to intake each breath. His arms, thin ropes, laid at his side. It took a massive amount of energy and strength for him to even turn his head. “I will fix this Kyle, believe in me when I tell you that, I love you.” I kissed his cold forehead and left shutting the door slowly.

Ah, Jacob
I love you
(look! I have personalized my poem! But alas, that means I have isolated
the audience.
By mentioning your name-
such a wonderful name, it reminds me of church bells
Doritos
and a good shower after a long run-
by mentioning your name, I have ensured
that those not in love with a Jacob-
and I pity them, for if they do not have one, they should seriously consider finding one-
Anyway
By mentioning you name, my love
I have ensured that those not in love with a Jacob
will never understand the soaring
joy
sorrow
trust
security
never understand what it is they have just read).

I'm hiding here
in this space where
I keep brutally exposing myself
I'm not really My self
I wear masks
and pseudonyms
and there's certain things I can't say
won't say
because I'm afraid of who will read them
and what they might learn about me
And sometimes I feel that makes
all of this
pointless
I am torn between two
equally important desires
I need to be raw here
I need to be violently open
I need to feel free to express
whatever I am feeling
for no other reason than the simple fact that
I am feeling
But I am also afraid
of the reactions I might get
afraid I might hurt someone
afraid of someone I know
learning something about me
that I don't want them to know
afraid they'll use it to hurt me somehow
I need to be wide open
but can only do it behind the safety of a mask
and even that isn't good enough
I still constantly self-censor
I have pages and pages of writings that no one
but me
has ever seen
will ever see
Even now
as I write this
I can't help but wonder at the reactions
I might get
from people I know
in real life
or people I know
in the wire
or people I've
never met
and that wondering changes me
changes my feelings
makes me second-guess
what I'm going to say
The only way my art can ever be
absolutely true
absolutely honest
absolutely Me
is if no one ever reads it
But what good is Expression
without Witness?
I need to have
an audience of strangers
for each poem
total strangers
that I will never have to see again
Or I should tag my poems on walls around town
in the middle of the night
like my little brother
(oh, gods, what if he reads this??!)

Fuck you
I'm leaving it in

Adamant, nocturnal dalliance
Egregious, insidious, velvet ambiance

An unyielding, dark but brief love affair
The flagrant, seductive and comely au pair

The Eclectic, unmatched, Androgynous Circus
Red devils, black sheep and felines in service

Contortionists, gypsies, and malevolent magicians
All twisting to a dance played by faceless musicians

A night in Tunisia or a place above the Siene
Where else but all in the shadows of dreams?

Enchanted, redolent wonder of festive illumination    
Her eyes absorbed, glimmering in the lush captivation

Enveloping, engulfing silk around our bodies
Days, nights measured by tragic commodities

Arpeggios, rippling across glistening string inventions
Bowing cellos; cellists bowing with audience permission

Masks, costumes, carnivals and the golden mirror
Cerulean dripping limbs that slither while near her

The alabaster piano played by a three-armed puppet
The statues turn and welcome us for a crumpet

Maria Callus sings Ave Maria backwards then stops
The statues and demons laugh while playing with props

“This requiem for the living, begins with a kiss”
The statues said in a tone of voice I could not resist.

“Our overture shall be a murder, a nail in the coffin; a death.
All while you swallow the nectar on your lover’s last breath.”


Needles protruded my head
And I watched as my love was torn
Limb from limb
While the jackals and ballroom guests
Fornicated on the spilled blood and guts
I cried and they cheered as the lights dimmed
For All I could see was the sight of them leave
Into the darkness.
But the noises were as loud as ever as hands
And digits groped my body.
Moaning voices and rhythmic thrusting
And tongues in my ear
And teeth gnawing on my neck
Pain felt, endured, experienced
Then
I was released into the middle of the scarlet draped room
When the phlegm of bodily fluids whipped into a dried crust

A sharp edge stabbed me in the back of the neck
Running along my back, through my spine, down my skin and ending in my rectum.
Mechanical hands ripped apart my skin  
I slid out of my flesh like a serpentine cretin.
I stood there
shaking from the excruciating, unfathomable pain
the grid and design of my muscular system bare and seen.  

From the pieces of my departed lover,
the master with the many mechanical hands
slathered the slips
and sleeves of her skin onto my own.

Needles and thread went to work.
The puppet master sewed.
The healing plasma
the drying blood
the encapsulating tears lubricated my whole

Once he was finished, I was dunked into a pool of clear gelatin.

For hours I soaked and became whole again.
Then I rose and I was dressed
the finest garments, from across the globe.
I sat once again at the table where the statues invited me.
The musicians, the magicians, the demons, gypsies, masks and serpents
Watched and gleamed
while I sipped my tea

I out spread my fingers.

Layers of skin and stitches

No more hair.
No more nails.
Not just a regular face
but one all shall remember.

I was born as one

Then made from many

In the imminence of zealous devils in my wake
Of the attrition I have forsake

Now as the curtain rose and the spider-silk strings hoisted me up on stage
The master showcased my story to all whoever wished to engage

“Adamant, nocturnal dalliance
Egregious, insidious, velvet ambiance

An unyielding, dark but brief love affair
The flagrant, seductive and comely au pair

The Eclectic, unmatched, Androgynous Circus
Red devils, black sheep and felines in service

I am Vincent Andromeda
Your Strangelove phenomena.”

If we were ever in a game show.
You
would be forced to put your hands on my waist.

And I
would be forced to put my arms
around the nape of your neck.

We would
dance with tension as eventual rhythm enters
where there was once a dense air.  

Dips,
twirls,
and smiles,
crack our equally hard demeanor.

Laughs
leave our bodies, and

the audience
suddenly non-existent.

End the grace with our bodies close.

Panting,
smiling,
and sweaty.

Sealing our youth
with an expired kiss.

Rejuvenating it
at the touch of our lips.

Parting only to notice the time.
The show,
Over.

Our kiss,
natural,
unforced,
and
entirely
ours.