**** sleeping.
It's 4 am and the windows sit tilted.
Feels like winter but it's the bone that splinters.
No snow outside just the woe of billions,
though still cold enough to uphold some liquor.
Orwell's vision - a fresh print - first edition.
I'm here to worship the hissing behind the television.
To slip in between the cracks of black and white
til I'm peddling end times like I want it done right.
Spare me a match and I'll bring the 'mite,
we can start where the litter lies.

Anymore he's ****-poor,
an off-mood in it's final form.
A Monday morning set on rerun.
Somebody fetch the kid a coffin,
his serotonin is stretched thin.
Put his thinker on the block
and cure him with a swift chop.
He won't need it where he's going.
The cubicle smaller than a molecule,
and the fine print's never optional.

I'm the type to taste test the pesticides
before I throw it on the hive
It's involuntary convulsions on the typewriter or die
They say you gotta be an angel to fly
but I've seen plenty of beetles in the sky
pluck my wings down to the nuclei
I specialize in petrified; my personal lullaby for tonight
Bite my hide and break a tooth unless you're immune
I like to assume as a ******* to the norm
I'm self abused and bruised, I can't lose

There's a voice in my head
that I can't quite shake
always beating round the bush
when the sun gets baked

"1 2 and a tie my shoe"
at least that's what they told me
back when I was around 3.. or 4
Who am I kidding?
Who am I pretending
to be if it isn't really me

Somebody could you help me
oh somebody could you please
remind me of what it means
to color outside of these little blue lines

Inside my mind your the finest
thing since land before time
and i'm dying to know if you know

Hostile fingers molded like pocket rockets
hang in a slow motion picture frame with
my God-Given etched into the name plate

I try to remain faceless, so I rip at my skin
praying if I pretend it was painless they'll
fade away into the wind aimlessly

Don't wave at me I have no name
My God-Given was previously reclaimed

I must of bled the sledge dry;
gripped it too hard then let my creaks fly.
It used to save my life when the time was right,
but now the night haunts me like I've gone and died.
"Pick up your chin, kid. The plume ain't too bright."
I might but the particles feel like pesticides against my hide.
Too pessimistic to bleed, I picked up the scissors
and flea'd the **** out like I was dodging God's triggers.
Paradise sounds more like a synonym for prison
and I've surpassed being baptized by the right side.
So no thank you, but I will take an extra large fry.
A step away from vampire, so what if I live to dine.
I'll dine 'til I die and I don't give a **** if I'm crucified.

I keep the 59fifty with me,
crown fit with the flipped brim.
Grin situated like a grizzly's.
I'll put a ***** down quickly.
Clip him in the kidney like a fifth
then watch his miss switch teams.
Appease her til her knees hurt.
Sign a jersey, ergo the curb.
My door reads do not disturb.
Delete me if you feel the urge.
Make no mistake, I will not search.
This is scorched-earth antics at its worst,
no stone will be left unturned.
Smarter than your average oaf,
my art works like an Ork on coke.
Just because you lack a clue doesn't
mean the world must follow suit.
There's a thumb in your mouth, and you
wonder why the words won't come out.

I was thumbing through some
old pictures of you just now.
You know, the ones where we
would swear it all lasted forever.
I'd do anything to crawl back inside
those moments as if they were a cabin
tucked within a forest and my life
the blizzard which never seems to end.
I could only get so far before my heart
played the contortionist. I've missed so
much of your life. We've now been apart
for nearly as long as we were together.
I can't think that sentence without feeling
like I've misplaced a step or two. I wish
I knew you now. I'm sorry I wasn't there.

Patchwork thoughts crumple out the spout
Apparently the kid's turned mushmouth into sport
Somewhere a hatter laughs or perhaps it was a scoff
I don't know, I'm too far gone to recount the sounds
Service the forks like tomahawks so we can properly
feast on the retorts that taste like a thousand holocausts
Get full, pass out, wake up on a floor more warm
than a mother's embrace, or a thunderstorm's handshake
He's picking scabs to escape the bad
this kid's turning glands into something glad

My cat follows me around the house
Poor little guy doesn't realize I'm lost

7 billion poets laid claim to the soul,
but got lost in her face.

Every red light is just another excuse
that I use to produce more volume.
It's a habit that I'd like to kick, but
where's the fun in letting reality win?

Thoughts of an elephant's walk
to help usher the pedestrians along.
It's the only way that I can make it through
the fray without feeling a step out of place.

Less a statement than it is an S.O.S.
A special request for the rightful ruler
of senseless vengeance in the lane over.
I'm the kid with a stick poking tension
like look mom I think it's playing Rapture.

I'm on a mission.
Where's the launch button?
I'm on a mission.
Where's the launch button?

She was lost in the pages
dancing to a whim
with a heart held high
and smile so wide

Days come and days go
Where will you be
when the day comes
that you're left alone

We dared to venture
past the time when
street lights played dad
and mom would laugh

Looking back, it wasn't so bad

Books turned to scripts
and the pages became burdensome
so we played our parts
and watched our words
disolve into conflict

I've seen you here before
With that sad look up on your face
That screams I'm empty where it counts
You think to yourself
What's it gonna take
You pretend everything's okay
But we know the truth
I'm in love with you
I'm a monkey at the zoo
And you're the passerby
Help me escape I beg of you

My pen could never puncture the surface. What makes you think they'll respect the scratches it left?

All my favorite songs will forever
remind me of the time I killed myself

I am not alive,
I don't think I ever was
I'm a hybrid,
an artificial two tone virus
Science sent me here
to flatten the heart of giants
I'm mindless and know it
I don't need to be reminded
I'll find my vow of silence
behind a four pound tyrant

Magic is not an illusion, it's a mouthful of music
you chew and keep chewing 'til the world starts moving
and the rain that plagued you plays see through
When the bruised ozone loosens then opens to reveal
a sky scholars thought disproven, look through it
It's there you'll find your feet even if your head
feels like an anchor sinking in concrete
I can only bend these words so much before
they or I break but that wont stop me from
abusing the pressure points I'm trying to make
I'd swallow a thousand pills so long as they looked
like you and never would I puke no matter the pain
even if I felt Death's embrace pull my name
I don't know what I need, but if I did
I'd crawl like a dog through the dirt to its feet
and beg for mercy, just keep me from the brink
I don't want to think

Lately, things ain’t so great.
They got Pop’s plastered to a plate
and Mom’s off to the closet to contemplate
another foreign date with the ghosts of yesterday.
I’m tied to a train that’s stuck going straight and
I might have missed class the day they taught us greatness.
Case in point: I’m writing this **** instead of chasing changes.

When passion becomes fashion
this mad man will grab his magnum
My pen is still a crayon
And my will can fill a canyon
I've never been one for the pavement
but that's okay cause I made this basement
home plate and that's more than most could say
While I'm faraway I like to leave a smile on my door
for the passerby yearning something warm
Come on in - It's a cold, cold world no need to burn
I wear my heart for armor and stand tall like Arthur

How many poets have I driven mad?
The solemn drum of their pen
etching marble wings with brass hands
as they run away in their dreams
with I, the strength of their stance
Like trickling of water
the question does erode

Every single second it’s another parsec.
I know I’m a wreck, but the least you could do is visit.
I’ll grab you a map, so long as you don’t look at the distance.
I promise you won’t miss it. What’s another car trip?
No, you won’t get carsick.  It’ll be but a minute.
Plus I got a plane, so it’s nothing but a thing.
What do you say? Wanna be my Sunday?

I'm chomping on heavenly bodies and
the planets loitering their orbit
hoping to absorb any life that may be dormant
A last ditch attempt at terraforming my decent
Tho I think my receipt will read like a sun blistered sticker
slipping through the breeze
Forgive my apprehensiveness
We're all here for the cheese
no need to pretend like that aint the decree

Mold me into munition for that elusive nimbus
so I can choke on 21st century carbon emissions
It's an exhibition on long lost mannerisms
we've kept hidden from mainstream modernism
It's what kick-starts our canines in the dark
That tickle down your throat that bites like bark
A ******* dart cuddled by a vampire's heart

When nuclear becomes fusion and our computers
stop computing we will reclaim what it means to be human
Magic is not just an illusion it's a mouthful of music
you chew and keep chewing til your eyes visualize solutions
You don't need to be a mathematician to grasp the equation
just be you and keep moving in a disorderly fashion

Chains are chains regardless of their length
I prefer mine akin to an anchor so I can conquer
the depths of this bottomless bunker
The drain leads towards terrain that looks more like rain
and that's where you can find the best air to breath

Baby, all I wanna do
shake your mountain dew.
Maybe if we're lucky it'll
glass snake that makeup too.
Who knows we could have
a tangible breakthrough like
frontier scientists tinkering
with love's tyrannical hue.

Sitting, picking at split ends,
fishing for volition in the deep end.
Twitching, itching skin past spent;
the Tinkerer's turning pen tips into trenches.
**** twigs, spit bricks til the crypt filled.
Sheer skill, no fill, spare me the semantics.
Hit the bench, kid, kick off the cool kicks.
These royal blue vans be too fierce.
Long live the worms, the devourers of dirt.
Here's to the ones molding the curve.

Your overlord's back, now pass me the torch.
Kick a door down like It's a word I'm after.
Craftier than those rats of Madagascar,
but I'd ditch the laughter, poetaster.
After all, you bow to a master.
Dig deep, DeadBeat's unleashed.
Good grief! His technique is Hulk green.
Guaranteed to knock you off your two left feet.
Whats wrong? Last I checked, talk was cheap.

A beacon beckons autumn a month before the climb
like a busy little bee drumming up an appetite.
How many times must the down be dyed
before the lowest of tides gets stuck to the sky?
We descend to the deep when them hills turn steep
and reach for the quill when the fleece won't leap.
He dreamt on the sheets like the waves on a beach
til the brittlest of his fleet ceased to leak.
Rise and shine, concrete feet, you were made to sink.
Took to the zinc like a Great to a tank;
he was bred to think but forced to shrink.
Everyday it's the plank, despite the wake.
It was there on the brink where he found his bake.

Stress reliever?
Pour the liquor.
Dream bigger?
Pull the trigger.
Rusty the rowdiest.
King of the Tinkerers.
Grimmer than Grimnir.
Son, you’ll need a ringer.

Stress reliever?
I’ll skip the liquor.
I’d rather lick her.
Villainous like Victor.
No, sinister like Sam.
You slither.
I stand.
Praise Prometheus
or catch these hands.
Understand?

It’s like,
now that I’m high I haven’t the slightest.
I’m trying to write but the font feeling tired.
Word to the wise, I’m outa this mind.
Time to shine like the whole week whined.
Joke.
Nocturnal like the sun been broke.
Look, It’s all I know.

And when I fall ill
To the monster of men
I will not dress the occasion
Like some bird's weathered coo
No, a bare foot to boot will do
And into the long winter's levy
I'll ride with bated breath aside

It's best when I can see the moon at high noon
I'm reminded that it's not always good to assume

How far away
is just too **** far?
We ran for the moon,
but got caught up on the way.
The sun's in our eyes
and the hills to our backs,
I know it should feel good,
but, *******,
It feels like yesterday's.
I took you by the hand and said,
"It's okay, you can follow me."
Then I ran us off a cliff
into trust's shallow grave.

I'd **** poetry just to keep the defilers from their perpetual teething.

I'm feeling tipsy again.
I been spinning and dribbling spit,
like there was a point between me and a win.
Half the time my head's in the clouds.
****, right now I'm thinking out loud.
Heaven's a crowd.
I'd rather sit it alone.
Hand in the shade,
all the way down to the bone.

I picked up today
and placed it to the fray
and with the thickest scope
I peered on through
I saw no difference
not one i could make
so i sat back down
and thought of you
I found my face
in outer space
took one breath
and now I'm late

Slumbering dummy, ya fumbling money.
Some of me wants it ******,
but they don't wanna see **** get ugly;
from rags to riches to rags, quickly.
I step with Death like Life bet against me.
If I had to guess, I'd say I ****** his Missus.
Goofy as all hell could be, still pulling hoes like sushi.
Grill 'em till I'm dead, this beat be the best.
On point to a flaw, It's the loneliest on top.