Call me what you will.
I know what I am.
She says I’m cute,
while she builds with sand.
Red haired angel I’ll never smell.
Intimate relation to be withheld.
On her knees but not low,
Her hands cup that beige snow.
If I could spill my insides out,
I could paint it all red and yellow.
She deals in truth,
And sells lies.
But she did want me
Between her thighs.
Oh what a pleasure to pleasure.
I’d give anything to set her beauty off.
If only things were different,
Without this novel cough.
Might happen, I’m stupid.
What buffoon could swoon in.
She’s perched a top.
Between dragons breath and stairs.
To wish it was a fool.
To believe it was a fool.
I have more of any noun than sense.
Jan 29, 2024
Jan 29, 2024 at 11:51 AM UTC
It’s another day, the sun’s left a twisted mess of vigor-less dreams and wishes faintly seen.
I’d lay down and cry if I saw any meaning to anything, but UV bleaches my guts and everything.
By now you would’ve realized, the sort of world, cruel and curious, we seek to sow.
But how can anyone walk around stating what they know?
And the pain seeps cold at night.
Aspirations, lies I hold tight.
Maybe not tonight.
Days bleed by, numb and opaque it heeds and blinds.
The pain seeps cold at night.
Aspirations, dreams I hold tight.
Not tonight.
Not tonight.
Feb 28, 2022
Feb 28, 2022 at 1:23 PM UTC
This time please don’t feel sad.
I’ve tried to fade away.
Stretch thin to reach me.
Gone un-scratched for an eon.
As a breath on a death bed.
Can’t be savored for too long.
It’d feel nice to know who I am.
I’m pressed to find a way.
Dressed in his slime and his slop.
It’d feel good to know who I’m not.
Bottle up and conceal.
It’s all moved away this time.
I can feel.
No Fawkes whisper to reveal.
It’s all been changed.
But for me.
I feel the same.
I’m broken and poured.
All vivid, but defamed.
The color I had in my fingers.
Is distant on a tether.
I just coil it back in.
Before I grow numb in taste.
Feb 7, 2022
Feb 7, 2022 at 1:46 PM UTC
The pillow’s creased, and coffee cold.
Drops on the window, you seek console.
I’m not there to comfort, or elucidate.
We share a glance, although you may not know.
All the time you were beside me.
Continues to tomorrow and today.
Dissolution and irreverence cloud you.
But I beckon for a light to shine.
Just know I miss you.
You’re never absent in my mind.
Dig yourself a hole, pitiful and abysmal.
I can’t see you when you hide behind my sepulchral existence.
I pine to see you alive once again.
Life seems equivocal and anachronistic.
Anger swoons.
Please don’t tumble into rash being.
I cannot stand to see you apathetic, not tending to your wounds.
Someday you’ll find me.
My eyes in another.
Please let me hold you.
I’ve come so far to be here to solace.
Don’t question my new frame or figure.
Just accept the love I trudged with vigor.
Dec 5, 2021
Dec 5, 2021 at 11:07 PM UTC
This.
Stimuli.
It depletes me.
Turn, turn around.
And complete me.
I, lost all control.
And this sense of lament is visceral.
I bleed, from the outside.
Numb death, turning, becoming inside.
I.
Just need one thing.
A child’s toy, nostalgic and stuffed.
A somnambulant hymn.
To remove me.
Disassociate, please.
Your hand is soft.
Placed places that comfort.
I miss your scent, that congeals.
I wish I didn’t have to feel nothing.
Emptiness is so guttural and potent.
I can’t help but see.
Everything slip by.
Dec 1, 2021
Dec 1, 2021 at 1:54 PM UTC
The time numbs. I want it raw like it was.
Like ************ and ******
Something powerful and honest.
I let lies continue.
Fantasies I tease myself with.
I never follow these potential trails.
I’m terrified of not having blissful reverie.
Closure haunts me. I’m scared of definition.
I live in a time that never ends.
I breath the exhaust we know but cannot see.
The world spins upon my shoulders, I pass it on without using my hands.
People die, it’s distant.
Life doesn’t mean much.
I live here in a puddle.
I love all the potential I have to waste.
I don’t know what I would slobber on without it.
I want something raw.
Something abrasive, without some sort of superficial veil.
If I brush back another thin facade just to uncover a clearer image of ********
I’ll slump the world with my bear hands, and whatever blunt object is abreast.
The ensuing postlude or coattail if you will, is gruesome and redefines the word genocide.
Life passes by because it’s not cut with iron anymore. It’s chiseled away with fantastic stone and underlying hopeful chimes of music. A method to which leaves reality unclear, and insipid. Quite literally dull and un-vitriolic.
The time jingoes tore babies from teats, bounced sore bosoms, and buried John Doe’s in mass graves beside schools. Is long gone.
I live in a butterfly massacre.
Nov 6, 2021
Nov 6, 2021 at 2:51 PM UTC
I’m triple smoked.
Inundated in a cloud.
Guda, salmon, and a cigarette.
Lay me down. Come be with me.
Something simple. I need warm skin, nothing put in.
It’s slow now. Even with death in my lips, lungs, and mouth. Violation at my fingertips, comfort at your hips.
This cuddle in mist, as sand slips from ancestral vas. Can’t be more tonic. Not even a clean breath from my stacked haze does compare.
Your presence is softer than a compliment, warmer than a gaze fair.
Your hair on my chest or my head on your breast seal a lair.
We swap the feeding hand.
Weakness is a virtue. A face unmasked in rare.
Among a stage smooth, soft skin, slick like ice, warm like loath.
Sticky with sweat, and with a low foggy stench that creeps in your nose. A familiar one, an intimate one.
A vapor that flames when you care.
This addictive fetor to foe.
Of nicotine, sweat, and lewdness.
Is a muse to you and I.
That cigarette set the mood, and you set me in.
Oct 29, 2021
Oct 29, 2021 at 4:59 PM UTC
I’m nothing coming through.
A ****** a let down.
I’m a plan turned mistake.
I slipped out into a world to be forgotten in it.
Cold, slimy, smelly, and stupid.
I’m the putty they use to fill the gaps of history.
The time between now and when.
A time where something, anything happens.
Walk on me, I’m here to move you on.
It feels as though we’re nearing the end.
Centuries before, fate was branded.
In its burned flesh we made our mark.
It’s come time to slaughter.
But we’ll be the squealers.
I’m coming through into nothing.
A mother abused by her young.
******* dry and sagged from their greed.
Fat, weak, and stupid now from gluttony.
Next winter will bring their snuffing.
So pull me out.
This pink portal.
Into somewhere I belong.
The nowhere we are right now.
The nothing we’re going to be.
Oct 24, 2021
Oct 24, 2021 at 3:42 AM UTC
The Spoon
I’m a spoon.
I turn concoctions
I poor innocence into a caldron of imbibe, ********** and violence.
I’m rusted from acidic negligence.
I burn the hand that Weals me.
When I make her bleed, truth crunches between my mandibles.
It’s cruel and scrumptious. I drool over its potential.
But the sheets don’t touch father sun before I leave.
She cries alone.
I cry alone.
I scoop the unknowing up. I throw them into a world of trouble and confusion.
My tongue passes my name, vowels never remembered.
My lips **** hope and maintain an emotional facade.
I like to push it in.
It hurts and I feel nothing.
But I move on.
Oct 1, 2021
Oct 1, 2021 at 1:45 PM UTC
I’m sick of watching them squirm on the floor.
But it never ends, I always want more.
Once the feeling seeds,
it’s put on the list of needs.
Is it shameful?
Or is it natural?
I have a needle I can’t get rid of.
It refills itself after each use for free.
It’s plunger is pulled back so easily.
Anything over the course of the day.
Can fill it’s tube with lives.
Can’t help but push it forward.
Release.
It ends not so clean,
Because I am ****** Machine.
Aug 24, 2021
Aug 24, 2021 at 1:54 AM UTC