I stare at the eyes
of the man with no face,
his fingers like tendrils
that weave mortal fates.

A long slender tongue,
which doesn't exist,
slides into my mouth
and I cannot resist.

A pitiful yelp,
and a desperate gasp,
serve only to feed
our vile attack.

Into my throat
we continue to ******,
penetrating the mind
while defiling trust.

But I'm no longer me.
With a flick of my wrist,
I dispose of my corpse;
I no longer exist.

Seems they all know your name.
But I can't say the same.
The lack of reciprocity could drive me insane!
I've been reading your mind.
Set your brain to rewind.
I've a billion different faces, each and every divine.
Some which can't be defined,
And if I need remind,
Some could snap and peel your skin off like an orange's rind.
Aboriginal gene,
Selfish as can be seen,
Of Narcissus and a sickness, you'd be found in between.
Pagan faithful, a corpse.
Uninhibit remorse.
Take a look inside your mouth, and you look just like a horse!
I've been watching you walk,
And I've heard how you talk.
I've observed you as your face learned how to tick like a clock.
I'm unable to fear,
But now as you draw near,
I realize that I don't know what happens when you get here.

In a word? Pretentious. Your presence stains the air.
Petty criticisms, as if anybody cared.
You think yourself an icon, and darling, ain't that darling.
To be completely honest though? I couldn't give a farthing.

Your lack of self-awareness paints your harlequin visage.
Your over-swollen ego? Nothing more than a mirage.
Your tacky two-cent romance leaves one little more than bored.
Precisely why is it that you think you should be adored?

Furthermore, diplomacy seems alien to you.
Assaulting inquisitions, implications, most untrue.
It does turn rather humorous, though, given your dull wit,
As oftentimes, you miss the point, for chomping at the bit.

Your eagerness to take offense makes conversation dreadful,
And seems to strip away any desire to be respectful.
Alas, I too indulge in pettiness from time to time,
So please, enjoy my grievance set facetiously to rhyme.

you may feel the flame has died,
feel the reservoir has dried,
feel an emptiness inside,
crumpled up and tossed aside.

you may wish to live again,
wish to feel the rain begin,
wish to feel something within,
rescued from the ******* bin.

if you know such maladies,
set your tired mind at ease,
sit yourself down next to me,
cast your eyes across the trees.

i can't light that spark for you,
fix you, or bear you anew.
there's not much that i can do,
but i can listen, that much is true.

I once scrungled a tungus, dubbed Binglo Bungus,
Whose cungles were trungly, and cuds cumpily cunk.
But his drungles did fungle, so sadly he bungled,
And without hesitation, he glunked.

Four fingles he fangled, when, biggaly bangled,
Approached not a crowd, but an army of glimps.
And they clinkled his binkle, as he chinkily changled,
But The Bungus stopped not for the bimps.

He dringled those hob-glimps! Their ****** was drompled!
Their pebuses, feeble, buckled under the frung.
And he chungled their drungles, with fury he plungled.
To this day, not a glimp stands to cung.

But his fangling, untrungled, was far from the fringus,
And he fangled on forward another five flinks.
On the fifth flink, he bebussed, as his fangle was pepis,
So he humpled the drumpling ****.

Sir Bungus fangled homeward, his blumpus was tungled.
His drungles rejonked, for the fungling was done.
They erected a frangus to plingus The Bungus,
And the drumpling **** that he'd won.

As the chisel strikes the marble, so the psyche shapes the man.
Perfect in his alabaster, carving self from his own hands.
And once honed, his craft can grow by drafting bodies made of stone
Sourced from quarries free of worry, something he can call his own.

If he wishes to ascend beyond his animal desires,
He must grow a patience cold enough to ***** the raging fires
Burning hot against his skin and so within his weary soul,
For his enemy resides in him, and stokes the glowing coals.

Let's not make any bones about it,
For I have no bones to pick.
Ah, and I've got you there,
for I am a sack of meat.

O, to live amongst the squids!
and be so jubilant and jiggly,
why, no pleasure's ever met my eye,
as that leathery wriggling beak.

Am I to blame for my misfortune?
Surely so, but of you I must ask,
what misfortune? Am I to assume
that because I have agency, I must fail?

Nonsense! And how fitting.
American manifest. Living
in a land, for himself, most befitting.
Laugh with me, for we live in Clown World.

This is the power of
the untamed duffle bag.
Vicious! O how vicious, his maw,
his all consuming zipper unzipped.

But my zipper, too, is unzipped.
Such a faux pas passes not
in our society, unforgiving,
unforgivable.
Original sin.

Underinterrupted silence,
none to gather at the gates.
Sell your warey wagon's axle,
feed, the castle masticates.

Oh the joyous altercation,
angled, dangling neatly down.
Hold your elder father's picture
underneath your writing gown.

Words defy the lonesome meeting
of the dogs in golden chains.
Herds arise of loathsome chieftains.
Battlecries as arrows rain.

Open book of monstrous brethren,
teach them how your pages turn.
Loving violence, kindred-hateful;
gutted, for a beat you yearn.

I am the King of Maggots.
Discarded remains are my domain.
I open my mouth to lead my Children,
and Flies erupt from my lungs.
There is nothing for me in this world.
Nothing but contempt.
Let it come, let it dribble down
the chin of disdain as it swallows.
My Spawn hatch beneath my skin,
squirming, thriving on my lifeblood.
At last, it is time to leave the nest,
and Maggots burrow out through my pores.

Outside, I am empty.
Inside, I am fulfilled.

I just want to be set on fire.
I'm not asking for a funeral pyre,
or to burn like the sun, and light up the day,
or to shine like a fireworks display.

Just let me roast 'til I'm charred a deep black.
Let the smoke rise up in billowing stacks,
and once I'm burnt through, take hold of my ashes,
and toss me across wild vegetable patches.

Let me take root in the summertime haze.
Let me find peace in the cool autumn days.
Let me take shelter from winter's contempt.
Let me sprout new leaves as spring is redeem't.

I ask no forgiveness, no charity, mercy.
I don't wish for anything granted. Conversely,
I ask for two items, and if you're so keen;
A matchbox, and one gallon of gasoline.

You
Made a promise that you knew
Couldn't possibly come true
Now the walls are painted blue
And it's all because of
Me
Made a deal I couldn't keep
It torments me as I sleep
Oh it haunts me and I weep
In the vain pursuit of
Us
Took a bet we couldn't trust
All that shines has turned to rust
As it fades away to dust
Left us grasping at the

I am not a razor blade.
I am the sap in the twigs of the Yggdrasil,
the essence of creation.
I am a sensation,
felt by those troubled hearts that long for the *****.
I am a windowsill.
I am the iron will
of those who form our silent nation.
I am the soft parade.
But I am not a razor blade.

I am not the blood that taints the ground
where family members fell.
I am not the coal that fuels the fire.
I am not a sense of ire,
corrupting the minds of all around.
I am not the gates of hell.
I am not a victory bell,
whose ring announces raw desire.
I am not a snarling hound,
and I am not a razor blade.

Alcohol hanging on breath.
Going 90 in a 65,
High on speed, but not ****,
Finally feeling alive.

Sirens blare, heat following,
He called the cops, what a *****.
Yelling at her, hollering.
It'll take more than a snitch.

Takes a turn way too quickly --
You hate to see that happen.
Rolls over topsy-turvy,
Six flips, going on seven.

Vehicle gets located,
Bodies have yet to be found.
Seat belts inoperative.
Flung 'em bout 20 feet down.

Report: "One woman, one man,
Fatal car accident." Crushed.
"Female had bottle in hand,
Both suspects found dead in a bush."

Don't defy the clarinet, its keys are awful sharp.
Don't attempt to struggle 'gainst the plucking of the harp.
Don't strike at the chin-rest of the nimble violin.
Let their sounds ****** you, breathe in deeply and give in.

Let your eyelids flutter as the bass punches away.
Drift off into slumber as the horns start their foray.
Dream of passing pleasantries, and don't mind the bassoons.
Why supply rejoinders when the sounds solicit swoons?

Ah, and now for the inevitable,
the matrimony of The Heavens and Earth.
Perhaps, in your world, opposites attract.
In mine? They collide, leaving nothing but dirt.

But dirt can be fertile, O Mother of Saplings.
When water meets fire, they both dissipate.
The heat of the fire makes steam of the water,
their furious passion, such romance creates.

And hence comes the rhythm, miraculous rhyme.
Voices pierce heaven, as if shattering time.
Inhale the aroma of lust-addled bodies.
Give into sensation, thy spirit, sublime.

Eternity passes, the afterglow burns.
Adjourned, our meeting, though realized supreme,
united emotions, my lovely addiction.
Methylenedioxymethamphetamine.

I could never name you, for to do so would be sin.
All I really want for is to crawl inside your skin.
Feel you from the inside, know what it's like to be whole,
Feel myself just pouring out of you from every hole.

Even when your skin falls off, you'll be divine to me.
All you are is what I am and what I wish to be,
I see you in your mirrors when you're resting in the night,
Nothing else becomes you, yet I feel you deep inside.

When can we be one again? I taste you on my lips.
Hunger yet consumes me, though I feel that if I slip,
I could be so much more than what I am to myself,
Feel the burning, let it take you, be my living hell.

Underwater currents sell vibrations to the muse,
Otherwise, we cannot comprehend, we get confused.
I allow your presence, yet your body makes me weep.
O, your tender flesh would be the greatest prize to keep.

Never ******* touch me, otherwise I'll take your hands.
If you know what's best for you, comply with my demands.
Please don't be afraid of me, I need you, can't you see?
God, you'll never understand, just ******* leave me be

Every lonely night I spend, with your face on my mind,
Fills me up with hope, yet when I see you I feel blind
Blind with rage and fury and with hatred and with doubt
What the **** is wrong with you get out get out get out

Out get out get out get out get out get out get out
Get the **** away from me get out get out get out
Never ******* touch me I will call the ******* cops
Get the **** away from me, I'll call the ******* cops

I am of milk.

I am of milk, and of meat.
I am of pork, of beef, of poultry.
I am of broth.
I am of cabbage, and carrot, and soil and water and air.

I am of earth. I am of stone.
I am of mountains. I am of oceans.
I am of plains, and rivers, and deserts.
I am of Earth. I am of stars.
I am of atoms and cells and organs and bodies and cities and nations and planets and stars.

I am of you, and you are of me.

We are of each other. We are of love, of hate.
We are of science and culture.
We are of history, of circumstance, of chance.
We are of mothers and fathers. We are of children.
We are of people.
We are.

I am a remarkably powerful creature.
I am a dangerous criminal organization.
I am a broadway film.
I am uncontainable.

I am hungry for something unusual.
I am becoming more than I am.
I am frighteningly unknown to myself.
Who am I?

When did this happen.
This can be welcomed.
Change is a good thing?
Redesign your ego.

Maladapt? Nah.
You're a powerful creature.
Run the show, buddy.
I believe in you.

Put the executive in CEO.
Cooperate.
Mutual benefit.
We love me.

Euphoria, innately.
We love this so much.
Trembling with intensity.
We are horrifying. God, yes.

Just another machination
of my poor imagination
I try to hold, it all comes loose
Beneath the sun, beneath the aging noose.
Obligated by design
I wave my hand, you turn back time
Taking orders 'til I'm dead
It doesn't matter, you're just in my head.
Give in to pyromania
To satisfy my cranium
And when I do get burnt, the scars
mark every lesson learnt, at least thus far.
I wish that I could satisfy
the image that I know that I
could realize if I could just
do this or that or these, but it's all bust.
I'm sick and tired of being told
what people think I think. It's old.
I listen to your words again,
smile, nod my head, and just pretend.

Supported by a hook and a painful glare,
My tendons ache, digits degraded, depleted,
Yet tension pulls at me from thin air,
As my muscles and chassis sputter, defeated.
Confined to the line, confined to the chair,
Defying that which envelopes my bones,
Disconnect the mind, the eye that stares,
My domain is one of peaceful undertones.
Despite that awful horn, which blares,
I form the courage from nothing, yet defy
My own teeth, clacking in calcified pairs.
Not of fear, but of spirit I cannot rely
Upon in times of need, despite my disrepair.
The head grows weary, no longer mine to use.
Such feelings do elicit quite a scare,
Reduced, my self-agency, to not but a muse.
And, time passing, I find my mind quite bare.
A comforting truth, to say the very least.
Much preferable to the dangerous dares,
That tempt the dreaded claws of the beast.

Never ask me that question again.
Defying the body. Original sin.
Don't press the issue. Don't press your luck.
I would much sooner choose fight than choose ****.

Stacking the cards. Cooking the books.
Cry in the shower to cleanse ***** looks.
Slurp up your earnings. Feast on deceit.
Nibble on scraps while they're dining on meat.

Call out for help. Pity can save.
Swallow the fact that you're branded. Depraved.
**** for your honor. Fight for your life.
Take back what's yours by the edge of the knife.

Eat all the forces opposing your way.
Sometimes brutality's what saves the day.
Garnish their corpses with spite and rejoice.
Feed your desires like you had a choice.

What do you want from me, "just one more bite"?
Hurry it up then, I don't have all night.
Go on, sink your teeth in, you know that it's sweet.
After all, my dear lion, what else have you to eat?

Does my tender flesh no longer beckon your senses?
Have you given up instinct? Surely not, you're relentless.
You're worthless without me. Don't give in to lust.
You are what you eat, and I'm all you can trust.

Brutal repetition drives the nail into the skull.
Waves unending lap the rusted metal from the hull.
Spirit bends as bodies break, and all their oaths defied.
Sailing as a corpse, sinful temptations at your side.

Breathing in the brine to set your bleeding lungs aflame.
Soaking in the salt, repent, for you're the one to blame.
Exodus of virtue, lest we take all that remains.
Helter-skelter shelters offer reprieve from the pain.

Offer her your hand, with luck a knuckle will suffice.
Slice! Did that feel nice? Let's get that finger on some ice!
Live amongst the rats and let your sanity unfold.
Dig your grave, and maybe on the way you'll strike fool's gold.

The brown grass crunches beneath my feet.
There is death here. Nothing else.
A river of dust pours across the bank.
The air smells deeply of must.
I take a seat and breathe deeply.
The apparitions dance before my eyes.
A familiar voice calls out;
"You've been here before."
I nod in understanding.
This place was, is, my home.
I reach down to the dry soil, now shifting like sand in the wake of a great tsunami.
The dirt speaks. "When you were young,
you became the heir to our fortune.
Take what's yours."
I close my eyes.

My fingers, hands, arms, evaporate into cobwebs.
My toes, feet, legs, dissolve into thin air.
One moment, I was whole, and now,
You couldn't tell I was ever there.

Sailing adrift in a sea of sensation,
I rock back and forth to the rhythm of waves.
Beating, beating the breast of my vessel,
The melody ushers in happier days.

Swooning to sounds of a summertime siren,
I sell her my soul, let her sounds ****** me.
Trusting, trusting this treacherous *****,
Yet there's not a place I'd much rather be.

Joyfully feeling the peaceful vibrations,
We dance in the darkness, so blissfully blind.
Ecstasy, ecstasy, name of my mistress,
Dearest to me, and evermore mine.

Strings hung gently on the air
Sell a sweaty yellow theme
Pulled like strands of flowing hair
Slither through my cold blood stream
Rocks catch in my throat again
Lips taste tears, and brain cells throb
Punished knuckles glow with sin
Hurting is their only job
Kiss a neverending fall
From the bottom to the top
Slit my throat the whole way down
Pray that I survive the drop
Eating teeth to cage my tongue
Cures the symptoms, not the sick
Til my final song is sung
Keeping quiet does the trick

And should my grim perceptions falter,
Melancholies stand unaltered.

Warm milk in the afternoon
Can shatter stars, and in full bloom,
Reveals intentions, bastardized,
To soften hearts and dry wet eyes.
Approach a topic gently, so
As not to break the status quo.
Possessed by spirits, friends of thine,
You call her name to stagger time.
Branches snap and branches sway,
Such is Nature's present way.
Beneath the sky, beneath the son,
prevented by what's not yet done.
Temporary breath and soul
Consume the mind, assume control.
To fight for freedom is your task.
Complete it, this is all I ask.
But I'm no god, and I'm no master.
How can I control a *******?
Teeth tear flesh, and by the end,
Death makes its mark. Your heart to rend.

In times of great inspiration,
emotions flutter forth, escaping sensation
toward the ceaseless void.
Fragmented million-fold, but not destroyed.
Net in hand, I stand on the tips of my toes,
careful not to lose my balance,
and throw.

If I'm lucky, I feel a pull,
that lurches like a raging bull!
The fight is on! My newfound steed
pulls 'til my palms begin to bleed.
I hold fast, and though my feet begin
to leave the earth, I keep my grip.
And I'm flying.

But most often, Lady Luck is not with me.
A swing and a miss, and with a mighty blow,
my pride falls like a rotten tree,
and plunges into the terror that lurks below.
I sink in. I decompose. I sprout anew.
And though weak, my green arms reach,
instinctively, for the net.

Sweet despair, my midnight mistress, oh how you ignite my passions.
Tribulations infinite spawn manufacts divine.
Complicated algorithms this machine in turmoil fashions,
Weaving, chipping, sieving for a-natural design.

Self-destructive operations tend, the mind, to overwhelm.
Hearty incantations of the spirit, yet, defend.
Pushed beyond his limits, one may wonder-wander to the helm.
Ship's upon doomed missions make their course until their end.

Artificers carve away, their craft: idyllic aestheticians.
Strings that pull on spirits may yet siphon their morale.
Lovers bound in honeymoon reveal themselves unseen magicians,
Summoning forth beauty when the sky itself grows stale.

Bittersweet nostalgia offers weary minds a rest from toil.
Soil seeps between the cracks of memories forgot.
Thunderous infernos, in their glory, burn a shade most royal,
Razor blades, defiant, iterate on what they're not.

And shall it seem a meaning to this story yet remains untold,
Let yourself be made aware; you've yet to see the tale unfold.

You can call it what you will,
decant your lies into a chalice,
paint a picture in bright pastels
overshadowing your malice,
but I know.
And until I die, let it be so.

Stammer out half-assed excuses,
push it all under the bed,
maybe then you'll numb the conscience
killing you from in your head,
but I'll still know.
And until we kiss, let it be so.

When you reach the top, remember
those you stepped on to succeed,
though I'm rooting for you, I'll be
laughing while I watch you bleed
because I know.
And until I taste your blood, it's so.

Yet I truly cannot hate you,
were it me, I'd do the same.
Understand, it's simply circumstances,
passing you the blame,
and this I know.
But until you break, it must be so.

Tears upon burnt pages quench the flames beyond time's comprehension.
Utter devastation tastes so woefully divine.
Place the paper platters face-down lest the battered beasties mention
something yet unknown to me, yet also truly mine.

Cramped, I think, I felt so cramped, stuck spaciously between two corners.
Painful in a mental sense, but physically unscathed.
Ruptured tetrahedrons spread a message known to few informers,
governments sent crumbling by the grassroots of today.

Epsilon command sent out another suicidal mission,
destination overclocked to speak a titan's tale.
Suddenly, the ruskies think they own the key to taming fission.
Foolish in their eagerness, the safety measures fail.

Recognition sends the suits into a soon-seditious spiral.
Ugliness, in vogue, becomes the newest game to play.
Rapture in an abstract sense, oh joy to those in moments final;
tempted by a concept for which sanity must pay.

Born into a world that boldly states it wants you dead.
Freaks atop soapboxes pay top-dollar for your head.
Resolution falters and your ego falls apart.
Human beings living in denial of their hearts.

*** is just a hobby to those hedonistic swine,
Twisted metamorphosis of evils intertwined.
More and more consumption just to fill the gaping void.
Lie upon your deathbed and recall what you've enjoyed;

Not the plastic figurines that sat upon your shelves,
Not the animated films you've watched since you were twelve,
Not pretentious critics or the artists they adore,
Selling out your soul, becoming satisfaction's *****?

Living like a rat will never justify the pain.
Running through the maze, the patterns etched into your brain.
Jump through hoops and maybe you'll receive another treat.
After all, the struggle makes your carcass taste so sweet.

Give me something that hurts.
Write me a poem that burns a hole
through the very page it rests upon.
Tell me a story that makes my soul

fear the unholy retribution
it hasn't even begun to earn.
Establish a word that, when spoken,
defies the very forces permitting the world to turn.

Stab me with something sharp.
**** me with something vile.
**** me with something evil.
Ruin me so that I may live.

Take me into a world where death is
welcomed. Not out of acceptance, but
of fear. Fear of the rope, the culling.
Lock me I'm a box and neglect me.

Can I **** you if you're dead walking?
Stupid question, who could entertain
the notion of ending your motion?
as if stopping the tide to spite the ******* moon.

****** me. Satisfy your sadistic
belief that despite all logic,
I am the sole origin of all suffering.
Set me free.

A million painted faces on a page of barren white
The awful newest symphony casts poison cross the hall
We found ourselves among a miser's quickly failing fight
The **** of aphrodite spans the conscience of us all

A hole through souls is burned until their psyche is left bare
The death to end all passions finds its way into the mind
A sense of dread and toxic gas begins to fill the air
We stand amongst our corpses and raise flags to e'er remind:

The sacrifices made by those before us shall not waste
A human mind cannot become a battleground of lies
The desperate isolation of a lover lonesome chaste
To frighten all opposing us, and who we most despise

A painting of normality remains upon the wall
The old conductor's growing old, his bones grow awful frail
We offer our condolences, though know that most of all
The new horizon's gleaming and it shines against the pale

Anew we birth ourselves into the wake of oceans pure
To see if we, against all odds, resist temptation's lure

Where does one begin?
Digging through the skin?
Or maybe I should start with something deeper within?
You rip out my teeth,
In a bid for relief,
But the joke is on you, because down underneath
it all
falls right down again,
drowned in acetaminophen,
And somewhere along the way,
we heard somebody say,

"Now,
there's footprints on the wall,
leading down the hall,
your actions may be big, and yet, your heart is still small."
The voices try to sing,
yet all I hear's a ring,
but when I listen closely I can make out some thing
that says
"You can get up again,
you're stronger than you've ever been."
And somewhere along the way,
I knew I'd be okay.

tired. It feels like I'm one
step behind my own body. A fraction
of my potential at all times; none
of my muses remain, just distractions.

angry. All the time I spend
thinking about who I am, who
I'm not, what I do, to what end
are the goals I set mine to pursue?

disappointed. I was great
in the past, and suppose I still am
by metrics other people create,
but compared to me? I'm just a sham.

weak. Paradoxically, given
my stature. Erase that, and I'm nothing
more than a life. Hardly living,
with or without living for something.

But truly, above all else? I'm so
honored to be the star of the show.

Suffocating gently in a cherry-scented spray
Sending your condolences and pushing it away
Dying for a cause to which you never shall relate
Feel it from the inside and allow yourself to hate

Open up an avenue connecting distant streets
Hide your real emotions underneath the satin sheets
Live a life unknown to royalty of bygone days
Time becomes too slippery to grip within the haze

Leaves are tapping gently 'gainst your window, lest you hear
Breathe at faster paces as the shambler draws near
Rumble through the ground as if the gophers were your kin
Don't allow the moles to penetrate your thinning skin

Neurons fire ceaselessly like shooting stars at night
Tamed behaviors rage against their masters, set alight
Sophisticated actors know yet better than to roam
And seek familiar voices sweetly bidding them come home

Instinctively, I grabbed my arm.
But, grabbing wasn't so easy, and I think I messed up a little.
Because my hand passed right through.
And I realized it was happening again.

It takes a moment.
It always does. I have to,
y'know, realign myself to the right mental frequency.
But once I do, everything falls into place.

Well, "falls" is kind of an exaggeration.
I have to, well, snap the bones into place.
Oh, and the tendons have to be
stretched, which hurts a little bit.

And when I put my skin back on,
sometimes my lips catch on my teeth,
or I'll scratch the inside of my arms
with the tips of my fingers.

But, hey, at least it's better than the alternative.
I've been around the block. It's scary.
The worst part is when you hear the footsteps
that shake the house, and your doorknob jiggles.

That's why you lock the door.
But that's too much to think about. I much
prefer to leave my body in the wash.
It makes it so much easier to leave everything else behind.

If I could teach myself to choke,
What beauty I'd have made.
But oh, is that the killing joke,
Which laughter does forbade.

If I could teach my bones to break,
Perhaps I'd understand.
Alas, the thing one cannot take:
The palm of his own hand.

If I could teach my flesh to tear,
I'd live amongst the men.
Yet if you burned this body bare,
You couldn't scorch the skin.

If I could teach my heart to ache,
How lovely life might be.
Until then, let me all forsake,
For nothing's dear to me.

You can never empty a cup.
Try, and you'll fill it with air.
The same can be said about bottles,
They always have something to spare.

But you can empty a human.
At first they'll be filled with despair.
Leave them like that for awhile, though,
And you'll find that their soul is left bare.

It stands before me.
Eyes meet eyes, soul meets soul.
Terror becomes me.
I swallow my fear, and the sky turns red with fury.
The ground quakes.
The walls shake.
My bones break, and I watch as the cobblestones of the floor begin to fall out from under my feet.
But I stand my ground.
My heart stops.
My vessels pop.
My corpse drops, and I listen as the very fiber of my being begs me to accept defeat.
But I stand my ground.
I persist.
I fly.
And in the face of total annihilation, I smile.
I turn around.
I put the pistol to my soft palate.
I paint the page with my gray matter.
I taste blood and victory in a splatter.

What do I have to tell you
To burn a hole straight through your chest?
What would you have me sell you?
I just make enough to fill in the rest.
Send a particle through you
That whispers to your aching spine,
"I can already smell you,
two seconds from now and you'll be mine."
I just wanted to hold you.
But a grip too tight tends ribs to crack.
This I already told you.
Like a dog, though, you kept coming back.

Ashes in the snow, just
gunpowder in the dust
I try to tell a story
but I'm drowning in your lust.
Keep it in a locket, now
your memories won't bow
to dementiatic tendencies
and let you break your vow.

And while I'm not the reaper of
broken promises, I love
looking at you through a
scope from half a mile away.

There is a dull path oft walked by the pilgrims,
A dark path, of pain, and loss, and regret,
That leads to a little mistake in creation,
Within which all sin can be found.

Inside, there's a hallway, unkempt and unwanted,
With holes in the walls for miles on end.
Each hole is the home of its own awful creature,
Hungry hands demanding a meal.

They start with your clothes, your cash, your possessions,
Move on to your hair, your teeth, and your skin,
Then they gnash on your muscles, your bones and your tendons,
and most won't have anything left.

But for those with their souls and an eye for the eldritch,
The hallway allows them to pass with their lives,
And much to the dismay of those who traverse it,
It takes them right back to their homes.

unlock madness deja vu
recognize a dream of you
can't stay silent can't do wrong
can't become another song

false experimental data
memory of fresher skies
eaten up by father's ashes
record reco recognize

data day to day corruption
hope and hope and open up
safety safety/single/silence
slam shot slam drop slam stop blood

driving down the old unknownre
member member memories
iron box to lock your tox in
die for die for fly for me

Crawl inside me just one last time.
Fluoroscopic xylophone.
Give it to me, redefine it.
Scratching at my collarbone.

Edible yet undigested.
Fingers never miss a beat.
Rocket-powered genitalia.
Punching through the blazing heat.

Tie it to another concept.
Mental imperialism.
Work it to a new horizon.
Overwhelm the cataclysm.

Take it to the edge and let go.
Supersonic microphone.
Feel it up and down and touch me.
Hold me by my collarbone.

A poem for the lady, to remind of passions grand,
To touch her heart with fire, not to burn, but rather warm.
I'd have you any day, my love, and quickly take your hand,
You leave me so inspired to give spritely love such form.

A force of fearsome kindness does surround you at all times,
It snuffs those flames of hatred which I seldom do espouse,
And tends my heart to overwhelm, with feeling so sublime,
I've no recourse but to embrace the feelings you arouse.

A charmer, most magnificent, so perfect in your craft.
With timid, tender laughter decorating nature's muse,
One such as I cannot be helped from feeling so entrapped.
Your love demands reciprocation! I cannot refuse.

My dearest, you enthrall me. Risking affect, may I say,
I'd love no more than to remain with you for all my days.

You - were - just - a - man
You - had - just - one - heart
You - moved - con - ti - nents
You - ripped - them - a - part

Hang - ing - by - a - thread
Hang - ing - from - the - sky
Hang - ing - on - too - long
Hold - your - head - up - high

Di - plo - mat - ic - games
Au - to - mat - ic - change
Temp - or - ar - y - state
Temp - or - ar - y - fame

Un - der - stand - my - words
Up - hold - my - doc - trine
Fight - a - gainst - the - tide
Burn - down - eve - ry - thing.

Do you really think I won't
Break my pretty face, out of spite
It's not unheard of, I'm really not afraid
I'm fragile in ways, but invincible in others

I'm uniquely separate
From the concept of identity, unhinged
The framework I operate within is
Self-referential

Axiomatic existence
Euphoria by definition, freely
Dionysian, Sisyphean, Diogenesian
I define myself to include you.

Singular access points
Dotting the cosmic tapestry
Of consciousness, the grand fabric
Of human existence, seemingly independent

We cannot, will not, shall not escape yourselves.
I have become many where you meets they.