Are these scratches on my hand from my cat or a knife, or from catching the edge of a brick caught in mid-flight?
Will I remember the blood that dripped off my fingers to gently caress the paper walls, or will I find my hand split open again to replace the pain?
Are these dumb questions? I've heard there were none but right now I might drown in this lack of ability to distinguish what's really hacking the sytem.

I've had visions, not before
but later on
of me donning on cotton covered scrawlings of feather down horns banishing cretins from porches threatening my dinner portions
But, more awe than form to psychiatric patients brandishing
war torn grins from chins whilst scuffling about amongst floors of white marble enlightening me once again of the future I get to look fooor.
So another sip slips past amongst the radar and by this light on the keyboards I alight myself to dream once more.

You succeed.
In laws of three. You will find the peace you
Wish to believe exists but for now is hidden under heaving fits of painful death, a test to draw out that which never minds rejecting the demands of other beings
Hammer under nail, no compare to restless privy minds slowly counting time until the new tragedies arrive.
Release your hold of pieces calling out for pain to pair once treasured memories. Now staring out with infectious longing, ready to be looked upon smirking and expectant the turncoat thoughts revel in the task at hand. Their assault starts as soon as the thought is called
Aftermath
Released to the gravity, by themselves they fall apart
Into place, covering flesh torn with sympathy
Released from beasts that grit their teeth in painful defeat, as, yes,
you rise to your feet, Torn to pieces, yet completely at peace, distant memory terror dreams distort to bring chaotic memoirs of cataclysmic merriment.
You utilize the pieces to assure your release from pains prison to pleasant pastures. Please just remember never obey the masters. Create sarcastic narratives pledging senators to heretics. Don't trust fantasy banner ******* brand name Promoters. Lœsers leading children to sheep eye machîne, specially crafted master adapters hard wire minds to the one percent agenda, intuition driven minions giving men to temptress, hoof to fenthris, dope to misfits, coke bottles to **** maker accomplices driven awkward and subsequently dove off for bottom place.
Freebie

I mote it. Be recieved with sight conscious of that which truth and wisdom delight.
Everfolding hands coalesce in geometry of design, symbols to be applied to help those who can't live. Honestly.
A prophetic glance manifests what this prophet percieves within this mess.

This species will mirror the mentality of the dust
It's depths a source of nourishment and plenty to us, the rust
Will we find the hero to navigate the puppetmasters collective cluster conglomerate commissioning commonwealth copperpot penny peasantry meat, footwoorkin the fleet floggers, ambushing citizens in the streets with collars, brainwashing caverns codependent on caging the masses like sheep to slaughter.
"But if we'd known we'd scream and holler! I'd rise to protect my property, my guns, my freedoms, my rights!"
Right, no, I'm sure you'd fight, you'd obviously gather friends to your plight, indigenous rage at the thought that the night would defend those evil shadow people encroaching on your ability to reason.
Shut the **** up, what the **** have you done to avenge those innocents of fate, unknowingly recollecting secrets of the state
Hate not flaking over city lake waters like mirrors hiding secrets well obvious.

Money & public resources alleviate proof of collusion simple doors of power hold new potential outcomes timed each revolution the little hand dares to travel. that of a sacrifice, willing or not, to help scare the sheep into buying as much of their stock, if your worried please do not, the flock will forget what they saw as soon as the image and story are gone.

Gotta be.

A solution so fitting it belongs in the movies, but that's how we forgot how to think, outside
For ourselves,for them, or the others
Rebelling as one towards sisters and brothers
*******, I need show my true face
Walk calmy down the streets,
Calm sure pace.
Talk macabre to the one's who own the fleets, spread the sheets to occupy the godhead, sift the merry morning stocks press against the current sea, then bust out enough to make me n mine a new currency.
Probably
Not so sore plot B soars blotting lenses before but not training more thoughts to war forescore before plot thickening remorse runs it course.
A new day in gotham city means unity throughout forgotten realms of hypocrisy. A cure-all demonstration that revels insanity for placid reasonably dressed persons composed, unfearing conversations of dominating resolve, stoicism spinning round professional mannerisms focusing on abilities that take the core of our rotten hearts and heal the waste, now it stays, hurting less sounds okay away from the corrupted hunting of weak willed pumpkins jumped over plummeting suns, all for one's been a worn out joke, once well spoken juxtaposed to unholy notions unnaposed sides take thrill **** maxxing to disastrous uprising in past the warcasters
Talked with the enemy over tea and brunch of tables shared only with tokens of luck, fliping thrice indicates which squadron lots gets iced.
Word gets out and like fire it don't take much for a war to sprout in the bogs of ire, but before it's allowed, the dog rise together finally to figure **** out, creating together masterpieces on earth to reoccur annually until our home is brought back to a state we continue symbiotically.
Fate to be

**** it all, the last of my regrets was all reasoning needed to keep breathing.
Something other than this wretch that I am
Existing for no reason but to help others pass the seasons with my singing

Will me now to leap the narrow valley
Between these moments apart
Though if you commanded my collapse
I'd treasure my last sight of you

This throne of mine
A stool of polished promises
Nevermind the bones that stick up
From the pool of waste around me
Come ask me for coin,
I'll share with you me stoney rubles
Come ask me for guidance,
I've maps for every goose imaginable.
Come ask me for time,
I will spend it with you waiting
Waiting
Waiting for you to ask me of the elephants,
That stampede through my kingdom.
If you don't care to ask
Then my reaction will be just as subtle.
I hate my temple
As to fix an explosive to it
Then I wouldn't have to fix it
And drift away from this home
That's not my home
To the abyss

You call yourself a king.
As negligent, and wild, and unacomplished.
Trigger vile thoughts of conquered monuments.
Don't pose jokes to take part in fake
Glory.
That which you know nothing
Despair petty one
Selfish one
Woeful one
Bathe in the fiery rapids of the river styx
Learn the lessons of the dead
As you are one with death already.
Be destroyed by all things
And be rebuilt

The decadence fades into realism
The absurdity of a smile
So confusing now pressed against glass
While spinning purple lights
Tear my eyes from wandering
and hateful.

Bitter, cold, expected, terrified I
wait to drift into the nightmares
that I know accompany the snows.
What to do to pass the time?

Am I awake?
A questioning glance tastes like honey now.
I'm told it's coffee with cigar.
Another pond I will inevitably cross
Once my composure is regained.

Offerings of stagnant puddles
May slake this empty melancholy,
Instead I cave into a craving
to exchange my profile
for one that's made for waiting.

Any mask will do if it's imbued
with soul, a toll to part the vain.
A collection started, and kept well guarded
By the stone that marks my grave

This cycle of intruige and disillusion
How it bends to circumstance
And premonitions.
Trusting guts convey temperament
While eyes analyze the sway.
How then will you decide the fate of man
In the gaze of dream swept eyes.
Will you fall
Will you drown
Will you will yourself into motion before the crows have nostalgia over that which disposed the ill endowed
My favorite writer
A time will come to pass when my regrets
Become my most valued treaZers.
I hope you're there for that.

Numb, the blue sky seems grey
If there were clouds, they couldn't
Achieve this depth of shade
That follows me around.
It turns out fear is a powerful motivator
Even in the guise of sadness
Madness of manic machinations
Yet it seems the goal has crumbled.
Two deaths are not enough
For me.
A daily death, a portion, a number
That reclaims land like a fire.
This dire path of wolves, guide and decieve
Make light and alieve these thoughts
I run at times, with the pack,
Away from the path.
Now I'm tired of sleeping away time
I could make use of
To find the embers.

Car won't start
Hands in heart in hands
My plans have fell through
Again, yet
There's always a yet
A low highbrow close to closing
Where the **** am I
Really.

****
I Hate this ****
Aggravated faith Vs. Masochistic taste
Seep and stains the screen I frame with
Weightless words, time taken to assure

The fake sincerity makes me sick.

A reactive phrasing fabricated naturally
Placating waves of faces waiting to for their turn to say 'I'm Running Late'.
Now games on with strange men who make friends that know me, who show off these women from craigslist like trophies, I see she's an A-list employee who enjoys the work and I start to sweat, she might break my heart but I call to check, she's on the way and I settle debts, then I'm done.

Insult to injury, my impulsive witchery, her careless fake name engagement doesn't conceal my betrayal felt.
Great lame dumb freight train stuck eight lanes of state strays search daily to entertain my ******* wife with *******. I'm done.

Last straw, I've had it, was this rom-com or tragic, papa don-jon in the attic telling me to leave it be and keep at it, but I'm numb, dumb and emphatic, my Jessica rabbit is long gone, her swan song a hat trick, **** that chick grew wings quick, cleaned out her **** like mary pip, packed and pomp she asked to sit, smile set smug, with a cigarrette to her lips, she exhaled and leaned in, I'm still confused about todays events when her voice spoke that final cent, it said
"I always win."

Truthfully, it's the last thing I remember, and then I wake up alone with some bottles of gin to the police brutally beating on my door, and my wife adorning the walls.

Knowing what you want
Knowing what you don't
Is the first battle of wars
To be fought
Knowing what you want
And accepting that it's not
Means nothing when it's kept
In the dark
Knowing what you don't
To beleive the simple lies
You know it's false until
Comfort cries
Knowing what you want
Will only cause you pain
Distilling death from drowning
Undee rain
Knowing what you don't
Anticipates the pain
Shattered in the moment
Then forgotten
One will cause you rot
One will provoke thought
One will make you stilled
One will break your seal
But for all this your foe will hide
In simple smiles and friendly tasks
Believe not what you see
To do so will bring misery
Know to grow you face the *****
In sane
Whistle while you gain

Have you heard, heard of the clickings?
The clickings that clatter together to cause mischievious misconduct
Yes, though, how did you know what I was going to say?
Hahahaha, Just privy insight second guessing the other half of your insticts.
wrap me up in a paper bag, and
forget me behind the back wheel
Let those carrion carry my weight on
fir a spell.
Less high than I'm now

The pile of wood chips stack like the
Tower of babel from this concrete plane
The furnace hungers, ever patient for
******* blood
dripping cuts
Ripped up cufflinks that share the table
Every **** night.
Before attempted sleepless dreams keep this distance bearable by proxy.
I see your face when I wake up.
I see your face when I sleep.
I pray the days spin down quickly till I can see your face in person.
Until then I'll feed this furnace.

Tech tonics and honesty following repeated offerings to beings I don't think, think that I belong anymore.
Not that it bothers me I'm used to feeding apologies to cretins who'd like to think they walk on water
I dropped the scene along with anyone I met that shed a tear or was met with fear at the thought of me in harm I think
I can't love again
And what's worse is that you couldn't care less
I'm not a monster, but you treated me just like the ones in your head, yet I told you things to doubt when you never should've
You had no business saying you loved me in the first
I fell after, I can't handle my emotions, thoughts, I've lost my confidence and I don't care enough to get it back.
Your now engaged to a guy you introduced me to. *******.
I wish I could even hate you, but I only hate myself. WHY.
I wish for death, or destruction, or cataclysm, or flood, or plague
I'm an empty vessel, ready to become
Undone.
Hooray.

Thinking thrashing thoughtless
Bubbles up, as if from the stinking pit
10 years, 2 years ago
2 nights of drunkenness
Keeps a warm light on past infringements.
So I sat on my delight
My delusion
My hopeful youth,
attending it's thousandth funeral
And hoping to fall in the pit this time
Inebriated and uncaring

To be or to let go
To hold onto what we mortals will
Immortal in our lust to fill
The hole
Simple facsimile of undeaths breeding
It's toll that offers Majesty
Or tragic mystery
It knows not? to fill it will erase
the breadth of that it craves suicide
Dreaded questions demand no reason
It makes me feel alive.
Trick the purchaser of time until
The sums make sense when it fades
The hole of hate

I don't understand, but your tone incites.
Is this ignorance or bravado
Is love and hate the same when the day of fated relations stays mocking on the morrow
Are the planted dead standard
Pentagram repenting it's whistles to the waifs
Who captivates plenty yet scrape for their dinner pennies like dog scraps.
Why am I still beneath this lake?

Ringing in the background.
It follows me around to announce itself
Uninvited, to fill the gaps of my distraction.
It reminds me of what I have yet to achieve
Yet I argue back my lack of energy
We settle on coffee.
Once a week or twice
I seek to bring about a daily change
That laughs in the face of painful reality.
So until it happens, I'll watch the grass
The wind the moon the goddess
Her welcoming my change.

Beyond the tree's that rise up from the ashes of starlight
unkempt winds bristle through the leaves
Unabashed laughter, and softly cooing feather down
under the time where sunlight is drowned
Beneath the canopy that glisten with droplets rising
verklempt, in the wants we want not, and
the stones that weigh down the roots of our dysania
Priorities will take away this realm in the name of the sun
Serendipity allows the path to be found once again

There's no point writing anymore
when the idea of sharing them again becomes
so droll
Now my thought's wrestle against themselves
and disappear, and unfold
The farther they stretch, the further they fold in
then release, like a breath, for a moment unspun
yo-yo
betrayed tenfold, no matter the compatie.
Friends, turned heathens, turned businessmen, turned faithful, turned deathtrap, turned kindness, turned apathy, turned hoprful, turned apathy, turned tarnished over time, turned hate for the self.
and I'm over here like, bro//
I just want to be left alone.
therein lies deceit, a line I've waited to say for some time.
we all seek something, and it makes want for us all
no matter the source.
Perhaps, that's why some of us still pay taxes.
If you're reading this
Just because you're scared, doesn't mean you're wrong to be. When your scared, though, make sure you're scared for the right reasons. Don't act out in fear, or jealousy, or anger
They cloud your judgement, and distract you from the cause.
and.
they could very well destroy whole chapters and books of a life.

I hope you fix what needs fixing, mark what needs marking, cultivate what needs cultivating, and build what needs building.

My flesh has sallowed
In wake of this famine
You sent
My accusers shouting
Shallowness, clandestine sickness, how low these
Thoughts that were my friends have brought me to.
Though my eye glimmers at the darkness that walks in through doors that aren't my own.
Cessation my crutch, or my saving grace. Either way these steps keep leading me away. How strange that once I trumpeted my praises to any darkness that passed my way.
Heartless, past or present?
Raw stench drapes me, like an auric field to address how potential futures will
End

I dream, sometimes
Of how your face would delight
To find upon a knocking on your door
To find my silhouette taking in your sight.
It's as painful as a dear friends death
And as pleasant as wistful accomplishment
Deterring as a dream
Determination to mnifest
I tire, these tests require I fight
Even though rome has fallen
in half the time that was took to create.
It's far too soon,
Not too late,
For what we wish we share to create

How could I ever stand the sight,
Of myself unable to stand the sight of you?
Moonlight, oh, how it glistens across
this dew mixed sweat caressing this
liquid-like glaze your devilish form shakes I'm taken aback, simply taken with you.
Her beauty poetically contrasts with
Sounds of silent gasps
Then laughing.

Cleanse, this gift I collect
Taken shameless
Hidden from the rain
Let these candles burn around it
Surrounding fires sactify the area
But never are shadows cast from the flames
Touch not the cell that holds it now
The grey dissolved illumination of this cloudy sky pries the light apart like moonlight in the day.
Tonight when her eye has opened wide to view the site I provide her
My goddess stretches across the altar
A blessing does not falter.

Waiting on the elevator
For my day of labor
Instant gratification after
Days of waiting safer
Now we talk in secret
Spaces craving the others
Flavor of disgust leaving
Rust in my joints and bones
Masochistic I remember
Pain has always been my
Home.

Naysayers crowded vying for attention
Left of the suave markets
Masquerading discontentment
Never say forever
The illusionist makes her entrance
Amongst the many naysayers
Smiling harsh radiance
Burning against the pavement.
Flying silently misty
Crawling
Sobbing
But whose place requests the attendance for the hatesayers
Gateweighters laugh blindly in their drunken spoils
While the sayers drown in their own personal torment

I found a stone
Alone behind the thrones of spiders
Stringent wires cascade along the path
I wish I brought my ashtray.
Am I daft? questions crafted for my insides
Crushing pebbles by the river
Shiver now the wind graces me across the waves forgotten like a sobbing daze
Beckones me closer
Lead me astray
I found a stone
To mark my grave.

Initiation with a siren
Your thoughts are no longer your own
Weighted petrichol on grounds
That could never appreciate it
Who are you then
To influence the dreams of others, when
Yours are held by a nightstand
That never touches ground.

Black lines drip down this canvas
Of blue tinged white like fallen snow
I know it's grown colder so this
Feeling of surprise climbs without reason
Like finding santa's presents this season

This cold feels warm somehow
My body and mind disagree
Viewing my hairs stand in memory of freezing winds, changing a tire in sleeting weather, but all I remember is laying on the floor fireside with my familiar.

Good luck
It's symbol rains over my dreary skies
And has changed It's name
From what it was.
Bad luck.
Though the confusion has left me willing to understand.
There is nothing to fret over.
Nothing to accomplish,
Except the opposite.
Maybe karma will hear me begging
Maybe the 'what if's' will gain clarity
As long as my heart keeps breathing
I will fall into despair.

Green is the skin I wear
I view the world behind its frames
This shirt I have is in a shade I don't like
But I wear it anyway
The shade I like is muddled, like the forest
It has a smell I swing my head to
Like music I imagine is from the fae
If they had something against the government
This aura I crave I have also come to hate
The subdued importance that stoners have
I've lived with this color sitting at my center
But now I have to adapt with my loss of innocence

Once upon a time
In war & love divine
The crippled lust for power became
The highest pursuit of knowledge.
The peoples of the realm sauntered
Around the miles of nature
A shamed of that which gave them laughter
Yet continued all the same.
The poison they drank willingly
The toxin they appraised
The hope of the forsaken
Of which they had became.
A hero stood no chance
A villian shook hands with strangers
Both had no idea of
The measures brokered between them.
The lived to each their morals
One of righteous
One of pleasure
In this fabled land of venture
Neither could die in peace.
One had the truth, but both had the reason
To bring about the anarchy
We now expect this season.

****** by 7
Circuitry sizzling now bless
My sight with fractals and
a misread message
A step withheld in my ongoing
Prosecution of the self resting
headless without a leg to
Stand up for myself when
I can't remember what I've
Dreamed this month, it's
Breaking across these mental
Walls, as far as the eye's can
Tell a story, and reveal as well as hide
From one's conjured enemies.
Shiver. These silver sided dice roll
Like the spies sent to hinder my
Will to save you. I will save you.
As I save myself. the last morsel
Of forged laurels.

Hate you
I hate you
I hate you
I hate you
I hate you
I hate me
For hating
You.
So.
I hate.
And hate.
And despair.
And **** myself a bit faster.
I hate you.

My brains mushy turkey leggings in the freezer out the box and waiting 3 months rotting in the summer suns running lean from the gnawing marks that carve the brittle bones into witches hex crowns
Now we create the sated space for cattle-brain pacers following infinite prompts paved pavements ending in a death that's somehow sooner than intended
Wretched runes of wretched wretches'
Held higher than I've flown remember
Glow down softer touch the ground
In slender light it feeds the being the beacon is centered on seeing receives relieving reloquaries of recollections recieved frequently tieing up the process of feeding.
What now do I need
Asked heathen skull seething from hulk to steeple creep peekin' I scream at these demons with treats and some healing I'm dressed in vermillion not sequence barely a squeel to my zealous request now a feeling.
I'm not that excitable.
I usually dress in work clothes
And wear the next days pair to bed
I just got excused, from life for two weeks in quarantine. Even my probation officer won't
See me now. So this drunken poetry fumble tumble quickly to it's end in 10 minutes since we've met my bedroom surroundings -Atchoo-  nice this time of year I treat the -Atchoo- season with a-h-h-h sense of -Atchoo- respect, mainly because of the perfect -Atchoo- weather. I Hines. .. Honeszszs....
A-Atchkooo. .
Honestly can say that I love this cold weather with my warm heart. I don't get paid leave either. Yay chrismas.

This mixture of feeling
Has me wishing of a better day
To take account of the storm raging.
How can I continue?
How could I not, when the mistakes
And bravery
And thoughtlessness of it all
Continue to rot this mess of things
The message rings
I listen unafraid.
And I am paralyzed.

My mind has frayed once again.
Single strands of whispered fate coaxed into softend place. They mingle respectful to their own reputations whilst seeking was to divert the eyes of equals to rise out of hidden pockets the tithes demanded from greed laden eyes.
As if they considered them souls worth knowing. Malfuctioning components running for amusement & money.
Though we know, and they know we know, yet pretend otherwise. Penchants demand this and so it is strictly kept. Whether beautiful or unkempt they laugh with desolate eyes laden wide and dry as deserts from looking past their shoulder.
Funny when the knife impales the ******* from the front.
While others wash these truths down like water of a ducks back, or clerics with poultergeists. Acknowledge the accomplishments and laugh in face of laudy profiteers, never knowing if the love of dear family and ***** diggers is clearly to be estableshed as the status quo.
It seems they gained the world and created hell, but we see the hell they made is all their own.

Imagine with me if you will
Not being able to imagine at all.
Trying but unable to tell
Why it is you feel so small.
It's hard to feel anything anymore
Voices shouting censorship and paranoia tumble over the walls of their abode and still like a broken record, refuse to admit their own shortcomings.
To never think of death, of guilt, of pain
They run ashamed and break the bridges that have crossed the empty pit, their concrete blown away, and why?
The roads of healthy living are martyred
The smiles of love are blotted out for the dark recesses privy to the wretches in their holes hiding from insight.
Imagine with me if you will, but Don't pretend it's not actually happening.

Start with the breath,
Shaky lately, it changed with the stains a painting formed on my chest came leaking, sneaking black bubbling death
It foamed up towards the roof of my vest,
Cough is hoarse excuse me my poorly conveying the truth I confess that maybe I've trained my brain to ignore the distress culminating the gruesome express

Eyesight now, and my Eye's feel numb
Two flocks fly in the light of the sun, side by side in a sign like a gun that stops my stride in time with the young, I wonder why and who had time to train these geese to write ******* W's alright, soon it fades from mind a two days wait until it's time to light up the night blunt try somma my cut the line trust is high up sigh at thoughts thought in my mind fuzz fought climb up bought thine scuffle what ******* geese fly in V's I'm blind cuz.

Minds in circles my muscles in decay my brain can't keep track of the ******* days
I'd buy the parcel from hovels of dismay trade for ants to keep mortality at bay
I'm afraid I wished for death too often, it waits till I'm content to grant it's bubbles while I'm coughin.

How polluted am I
Where even my apologies deflect the desires of remorse
Unable to show sincerity through effort
or through a screen
Could I have become an arrangement that pleases the hearts
of all seated around this vat which holds
my poisoned thoughts
They leak through, unbidden & vengeful
though perhaps there's another way
to set the blame to any other hidden face I miss
knowing that perhaps a brother fades ending
new regret trained to twist and
smother me with sinful grace
I'm so confused, I hate to muse and sift, peruse
my actions of good intent but fickle meaning
crazed enough to ponder them in public
these hidden feelings on my sleeve
I seem to be grinning without teeth
I am a scab unto the world,  I rip
slowly and with delectation
to cause a rift between the gift of people
that gave pause to lift in delegation
a blighted rebel wryly smiling
behind an icy wall of spit
I created

The winding path connecting winds
Carrying haggard breath
Frantic and pleading.
My fear of soliciting unheeded perception
Leads my livestock to solitude
I found my gold yet
It travels to me in whispers
A test, as everything was before
The sense that led me
Along this path

I itch.
Like ticks and fleas are covering me
Like insulation flows along the air I'm breathing shallow to cease this itch that craves release from my incessant will.
A warden then?
I've held to many in contempt to acknowledge the comparison.
Shed now blame to another less gluttonous soul my eyes prop up to hang.
This itch, I bear the weighted shackles, my pierced abdomen cries for any patch to fill it.
I refuse the temptation, becoming now a wanderer of egrigore. Watch this gore pour out this festering itch more now than ever since it's initial scritch and scratch
My path behind a tar black trapping
My road ahead not looking much better.

"It's just blood"
They said passing the freshly glistened reddish iron tungsten blade as if it were a joint
And I took it.
Puff puff pass.
Now I puff alone for things I cannot exempt from being my own, problems, past

Yet I feed them everyday in hopes I end up drowning in the refuse

I tolerate as much as I despise.
yet I see me drinking by myself so much more frequently after pledging allegiance to my recovery, yet,
I've never allowed myself to recieve accolades under the influence.
So, why shouldn't I observe those medals of silver and bronze without dismissal: due to performance enhancement.
Isn't society run on caffeine?

I hope these demons like heavens door whiskey.

Today is wasted
Not like the others, it
Seems to have a revolution of it's own
Yet, the scent remains the same.

These muscles exude the sangria colored
Muck, these layers of filth jet out like lined walls of a prison cell.
Oh why do they retain this scent.

This cube of cubes I reside in
Where art thou mine Calypso,
How darest thou give teachings
As if your tragedy can give thoughts to we golems of rust.

Stick to staying stuck
Until these brittle cages carry no more
This gluttonous weight
Will we be songbirds once
More.

Her curiousity calls, my interest stolen
A spirit about her face, when she, seeing
This wonderlust, inescapable, mine,
Yet temporary, as is this.

She emanates a significance,
I can't
resist escaping my chrysalis.

Tasteless, the breath of polluted life I savor
But for a moment. This purest waste it's haste to be expelled back to the sheltered waters which I dwell. Safe now, it sifts back to rest complete amongst the volume I've employed, until I deem its time to feed and shelter with my form.

I float above the seaswept alleys, scrutinizing the bones below, my home, the city of apathy and ruin.
The displacement of my passage rends the ocean in its vastness cleanly. Silent echoes vexed and roiling against the vacant ruins now follow me like nascent hounds. Warily I scale the depths to assess the source of my intruige, and see the obscure sky that holds the gleaming fires of sunset atop it's surface.

"How long have I been here?"
I wonder, and begin to see my real self, sitting on the floor of a home. I feel the ocean and focus my will to observe what caught my interest.

Then sight beholden a paradox,
An encounter fate withheld to ensure
The prospect flounder in a grave I dug years before. The living dead, the myths of old, gods, demons, angels, magic. I found it odd, how deeply painful and tragic my choice to discard my hope for a mask.
No longer.

I am now captivated, yet not by her body,
Enthralled, yet not by her sophistication.
These marked her ardent spirit of royal eloquence, but the intense affirmation held within the emerald sockets that could stop  sense of self when our eye's crossed paths into the traps willingly sprung.

Ah, the fool I'd be to attempt conversing with just a whim, without consent, without intruige!

Then, a wink.

This invitation sent so soon, to someone gazing from another room
She waded to me, half a grin, wry & ****
Effectively stopping all pretense of conscious thought, Instinctually I prevented the dropping of my jaw, and stopped my brain from shutting off completely, or tried to anyways.
She was getting closer, steady pace,
[What should I do now? I'm drowning in my own self doubts. I'm unworthy, a clown in comparison! Maybe she thinks I'm someone else, I'll not allow myself to expect the unexpected route, at most I'm just a simple rebound. ]
This plague of thoughts continued down thinking how I could run away, but I hesitated, and it's too late.
A part of me tries to defer her play. Escape, and drift back beneath the salty waters of marshland behind my eyes, while hers stare deeply into them. My attempts to decline her company are ignored, and I'm stopped. She holds me quietly, the beauty of her eyes a spotlight guiding the search of my face for signs of compliance or defiance.
I'm lost now.
Lost in the eyes of a friend I needed years ago, eyes that match the wonder mine held. They peer through those that cross our path, without fear, or judgment, or expectation. Her golden orbs speak kindly, beautiful they are, and fierce. Her stare holds mine, and though nothing is said, we read the others expressions like two lost strangers, deaf and mute.
Unabashedly she studys the facets of my expression, admitting freely these feelings of intense attraction.
She gently tests the waters that bars my cage, she rests expertly sitting on the floor next to me. She glances up, so close to me now her expression a breathy question.
How long until I could accept her intentions? I feel the shackles release, she coaxed the key from my my captors, thieving crafter of my release. Embracing her comfort and pleasant breeze. I take hold of her arm, then bit her politely, delight shows as she pulled me further from my city of despairity.

Seas now far below, The water from my lungs exchanged, now I sit in this party on the floor with my love without a name. I clutch her hand and grasp her eyes, breathe in deeply the easy air she helped me find. We stand and head outside.

Now the night is brightly lit by the many eye's of Nyx. She watches us watching her content to guide us from afar

We stay quiet, talking with our eyes until arriving at the station, the parking lots border shops finding space to lay and gaze at the mosaic in the sky

Then begins speech unending.

Attention, on her it looks mesmerizing, she began training in the ways of climbing deftly,  then set her sights on the hermit keepers of inner self, squirreled away in the deepest craggy recesses of  their self-isolating depression.
Her gear, well worn yet sturdy, she traversed the labrynths of the soul effortlessly. Astonishing and

The sun, now soon to wake reminds me time is rife to take my soul to depths beneath the motionless sea of my making, while the sunlight in her eyes whispers promises of eternity.
To dream and dread together, weaving webs to shelter those truly free, hungry and helpless, yet gifted with sight to see past the momentary issues, issued to men who believe the promises of those who won't miss you.
People like me, perhaps.
I think.
I sink.
In secret, I flash my contempt for my leviathan below. Resting, waiting. It demands  me to remain and skulk the streets of spines that once belonged to me. I'm kept to entertain the formless ****** that slink like klepto's thoughout my fallen city of memories. It keeps them busy, and when they are I search the ripped seams of pockets in dreams. In them was hidden my stolen key, which without I've forgotten peace.

Beneath the waves I drink the salty brine, my lungs adjust to the viscous salt base liquid,
Above cold white-capped crests oscillate,
I'm tethered here. I admit these weights are present, and **** me if I won't accept it.

My simple mind. Behind these watching eyes dwells my sea, and before the serpent catches me again, I see the soft ember color of her eyes in the distance.

White dress upon the maxim blackness
veil lifted to designate the
eyes
now I sleep amongst the screams of never-were
see the laughing tendrils slitheen in horticulture
eyes
legs, laughs, dining umbra lasting forgotten
a numbing agent
testimonies sanctified in antiquety
and other such fancy words
must be clockwork orange
singings of the ultraviolent
tuesday two days past the last day for the full
moon

I am not a poet.
I am what I lack.
I am a scholar that doesn't read
Atleast the prose that you misinterpret.
I am not strong.
I am what I lack.
I put these daily burdens on my back
These ideas that break your bones.
I am a demon with no inclination,
Towards evil unless for myself.
I am what I lack.
These angelic guardians hold me close
While your demons tie you down.
I am apathetic
I am patient
I am death awaiting your final gesture
To the gods I am nothing
To man I am a riddle.
What am I?

The falling star watches me watching it scythe through my lack of ambitiousness
Intuition deftly plays it broken poker hand
******* sipping from the soda can
Girls have it too rough, too easy
All of my dreams take me back to see her
This green earth looks brown like rust
When I view it through this spyglass
I mistrust

The moss has it made
Growing beneath the gazing light
Prying over tops of trees for a glimpse.
How I long to have it grow on my fingers.
Becoming one of the zombied dead
Feeding stories shared beneath the trees.
My skull grins at the thought.
Lazing daily, scary fading traceless
Painless.
I long to trade places