if you want to find me then you can find me in the morgue,
unless theyve changed the policy on where corpses are stored.
my body was spiritual contraband.
my life was a borrowing of the devil.
my laugh was a thing that god couldnt understand.
HAHAHAHAHA..my suicide note wasnt written by hand.
Cold, alone......... scared.
My body aches from fighting.
I won, but at what cost?
Revenge shouldn’t be the answer.
They took her life, my true love.
I’m crying, crying like I’ve never cried before.
A life for a life, but at what cost?
I became the person, I set out to destroy.
I’m a monster, a creation the devil himself devised.
I’m alone, cold, and nothing to cling on to.
I have nothing........ nothing.
There’s only one thing for me to do.
I’m picking up my choice of death.
You’ve done the most evil thing imaginable.
It’s time for you to go.
I’m taking you with me, back to where you came from.
Forgive me Father, for what I’m about to do.
I’ll see you in a few seconds.
Five....... My heart is beating fast.
Four........ Sweat is covering my face.
Three........ My heart is beating faster.
Two........ Hello love, good to see you again.
We don't really speak anymore
But we're okay; I swear we're okay.
We aren't broken yet
Just a little bit bent
With some duct tape and glue
We'll be back to new again.
Don't turn away yet
Give me some time to regroup
And find the motivation
To drag us up out of the blues.
I'm not trying my best
But I sincerely want to
After five years we're put to the test
And if we fail, I know we'll be through.
But, devil take it, I still love you.
You're my sister in every way that counts
And without you, where would I be now?
You're my anchor and the beginning of my past
And I'll be damned if I can't make this last.
When I was more than ready to kill myself
You were my lifeline,you gave me help
And now our bond's fading away
But as long as we aren't broken
We can fix this someday.
It's rather cold in here. So I went to check the heat ducts. They were buried beneath a tangle of lies, deceit, and old cookbooks left behind from the family that once lived in this place. It was no easy task, mind you. I dug through the shambles for days - shivering and blowing hot breath into my palms, now coated with a film of forgotten moldy pasta and an affair gone wrong. After a time, though, I finally reached them. And it was not what I expected. It explains the reasons why I am cold...
You see, it wasn't the dead bodies so carelessly crammed in the heat duct that made me cold. The mummified corpses of parents holding their children, the children holding their cat, and the cat holding a half-eaten and long rotted rat inside its stomach. It was what they were whispering. A whisper of a melody of truth that sent a chill so frigid and lifeless so far deep beneath my skin I feared I...'d freeze right inside that heat duct, forever sealed to a fate of the shells before me. It was a traveling tune.
The milk man on 4th and Main heard it as he locked the door of the lonely housewife behind him. The postman felt it resonate in his mind, already crowded with a million voices - many telling him to load his gun and end the monotony. Tears of the local priest fell as he danced to the haunting melody breathed from the mouths of the dead, dancing with his hands on a member sworn to celibacy. A nun in her habit drowning in a habit that only the Lord and the devil know about, she heard it as well and peered cautiously at the others in the convent, criticizing them with her mind knowing full well she wasn't the only one who heard the whispers.
The whispers echoed within this heat duct, within the house, the town...the world. And they were oh so cold....
Fragile wings and folded arms
Heads hanging low, of sickness it warns.
This once bright seraph
Now dark as it lay
While the devil is laughing
The world falls away.
this just in from the white house
positive positive positive
the right moves in this enviro
you got what you want
bush milked it for 7 years
they got away with torture
we Americans are stone immune
to killings, so kill people
add purpose to a culture of death
big lies small lies scared shitless lies
witnesses die at an alarming rate
the first impressions, the spin of tragedy
set the stage for popular opinion
but not for this guy
there is some advantages of being a poet :
the government kills people
and directs incidences of war and terror
to insure world order that benefits
the devil himself
I watched as that needle drained you of your capacity. Capacity to feel. Capacity to deal. Capacity to reel in the really real. I watched and I knew that devil was one I would never screw.
I am the vacant sea,
Bereft of sentimentality apparently,
Gallantly, I uncannily resemble,
An assembly of mistreated heroes,
And a villain or two;
I am a wave at its lowest ebb,
Further now from the shore,
Furthermore from the door,
Of the love I want to blow,
Obsolete, I’m Pac-man in the penny arcade,
Ms. Pac-man’s fucked off for days,
Or months or years; or was she ever even here.
Always holed up in my cave,
Staring at the razor blade,
Waiting for divine intervention,
Some totalitarian convention,
To drag me away;
No cares, this lust,
This pushed me over the edge,
Through the hedge- funded by my
Need for mediocrity; indemnity,
Insatiable, eternally caught far,
From what I seek;
Could anyone love a creature so bleak?
Going on a diet of bread and water,
Lamb to the slaughter,
So that someone’s daughter,
Might love a Devil like me.
The Devil pulls my puppet strings
And makes me sway
Looming hell approaches and sings
Reeling me into the decay
A fiendish demon shrieks melancholy
Another one screams fear
I am young, and I cry folly
The creatures taunt and jeer
The brazen fire whispers
Songs scary and bleak
My skin burns and blisters
My hands are trembling weak
Please, close the carcass gates
Please, chase away the beasts
See all their flesh-laden plates
See their bloody morbid feasts
I see this place so dark and eerie
I hear the demons moan
Please hold me, I am weary
And can't brave this alone
Sun don't shine when it rains
Except when the Devil beats his wife
Hoot owl don't hang around
Unless death waits for someone's life
Corn won't grow if frost does bite
After the first May full moonlight
I've found it true
My Mamaw's insight