We tread slowly
but not hand in hand
because of the damage I have done
Lighting flickers in once pristine halls
Straining our eyes and hearts
as we navigate corridors
we thought we knew so well
Plant life that was carefully nurtured
now neglected and decaying
leaving us have no choice
but to ration our meager supplies
Sleep chambers cracked
and malfunctioning
forcing insomnia and restlessness
on cold tiled floors
Ivory tower foundations creak
and rumble as inevitable
collapse becomes apparent
So many stories I wish I had
worked on
instead of sticking with the same tired
ones I neglected
We drift further apart with each step
I do not know if we are fleeing
or going down with the mess I've made
as we traverse the blackened remnants
of our crumbling utopia
I just know that I wanted us
to experience it together

Quantum grave robbery corpse bride stood up
acting as a grotesque sign post warning but
that tragic sideways glance splits seconds and
intersections spatters concrete bodies
Pathological investigation and morbid dissection
bears the heaviest weight
of horrifying and paralyzing eternal return
when time loops breaks you upon wheels
Tethered in bad faith
reminiscent of clamped surgical invasive insertion
Ouroboros chasing the dragon only to find the dragon is itself
taking shape as endless mass fed media distraction
Nativity naivety engaged in misstep
of evolution smolders like oaths broken from
talking heads revealed
as trumpeting propaganda warlocks
and even in an infinite period of time
they are still liars
No longer concerned with if it curves
oscillates
stays flat
explodes
is empty
Only want to know
when it all ends.

Seemingly random change greets me
as a phase shift just below all surfaces
In front of the face the world
Julia sets me apart
takes my hands
turns them to branches with
all my lines blurring
Planting new seed values
endlessly looping on one another
fractals endlessly transforming
infinite
and
beautiful
chaotic determination
I'm all mixed states and
dreams of you
Each flutter of your translucent wings
manifesting all new hurricanes
I cannot control
what haunts us next
I let go
With each iteration
I am free.

What good is a ******'s love?
No good.
Unless you too are a ******.
And even then...well...
we'll get to that.
But here's the thing...
Most people will abandon you
when they see the unkempt hair
and glazed over eyes.
When the phone bill doesn't get paid
so they can't talk to anyone
besides you and your murmured incoherence.
When too many calls in to work pile up
along with the dishes and garbage
and they keep wondering how long
until they find you drowned in your own
*****.
When you won't stop scratching and
when you are just plain all around one hundred percent
unlikable and annoying.
They will abandon you.
But the fellow ******?
The fellow ****** will stand with you
and fight for you
until the end of time...
...so long as you've both got junk.
Holding spoons and needles and
spinning those lies right alongside you.
The fellow ****** will hold a candle
for you when all other light
is gone.
But once it runs out-
-the money or the junk
-once they get what they want
they move on
to find a new source.
So a ******'s love is much more intense.
Like nothing you'll ever feel.
But in the end, you'll still leave them or they'll leave you.
Did you ever think we would be anything else
when all our heroes were liars and thieves and loners?
Suicidal freaks and criminals and junkies?
In the end why did we want to be just like these people?
Did you think that we could really pull this off forever?
But hey...
I've got one last hit.
Want to love this ****** one last time?
You should know by now
with me
it's never about the drugs...
...it's all for love.

It is only the sweat drenched
fever murmurs
of shell shocked honest ones
that can
and will
fully explain
the powder burn residue
and necrotic psychology
of what they have seen

There is an ember
burning brightly
for you
In the darkest
most secretive regions of my heart.
When furious dark tides crash
high against the waterfront
Leaving me soaked and shivering
That ember cannot be doused.
When violent squalls roar across
the barren landscape
Forcing me in
all directions and pelting me
with dust barrages
That ember cannot be smothered.
When the earth’s clashing faults
trembles and shatter
Threatening to swallow me into
its monolithic abyss
That ember cannot be crushed.
When the fires lurking behind your eyes
leap forth and envelope me
in their silent rage
Immolating my very being
They will leave only a pile
of pitiful ash…
…and an ember
still brightly burning.

Is there an order?
In there an approximation of pi
circling our first awkward flirtations?
Does a dragon curve lurk hidden as I
caress the curvature of your spine?
Where does Euclidean geometry fit in to the
first time our lips met?
Does the Pythagorean theorem detail our most intimate
love making?
A quadratic formula for the shameful
discarding of punched in picture frames?
Is there a golden ratio that best expresses
hurried apologies and frantic entanglements
between our sheets?
I know for certain there was
a simple subtraction
on the day your tears added up everything
and finally said goodbye.
Some would say there is order in this
chaos disguised as order disguised as
chaos
Continually debating pattern recognition
or butterfly effects
But I’d like to think
We were more subtle than that