I remember your first name,
your county,
I remember the way your words slurred,
tripping

over themselves, how you stared -
watching confetti melt
as it floated in fractals.

Passing instances.
I wonder do you remember
how I sat on your shoulders,
or how did we meet? In that field

I drank too much, the music
was loud and the air
packed with hazy heat.

You painted a picture for me.
A landscape of lives briefly
intertwined and a future
so clear I could see it.

Our phones were dead. You said
“I should find my friends.”
and then you were gone forever.

A mouth can
hurt more than
         any blade...

I'll buy a gun
To have an escape plan,
My body's a map and I
X'd out my heart to mark
Where the bullets will land.
Blam! Blam! Blam!
Here I am,
Lodged betwixt bars;
Imprisoned and sickened
In a cage that twists and ribbons
Deeply buried feelings that won't stay hidden,
I'll wrap them up all nice and pretty-
To gift you this burden;
To: Your Corrosive Love
From: My Heavy, Metal Hurting.
I feel lost in your anti nitty-gritty,
Icky, sticky self-inflated tendencies.
Being picky-picky
As you host greed,
And it eats away at you
Like a parasitic disease.
Would you help me if I said please,
If I bruised my shaky knees?
Let me praise you like a king
While you're slowly floating
On Ego's hurling winds
If you don't stop blowing,
You'll pop that hot air balloon head.

Look, I don't want my sun
To burn all this dread
I'm just trying to end my weeks
At the arcade, man.
Let my hands hold sticks of joy
Instead of stones you throw
At my frame's brittle bones;
In games I don't stay dead,
I'll make an escape quick.
Just pray my fingers don't slip
And I press the wrong button,
In a lickety split moment.

-SLuR

Grow up without a father?
That wouldn't be so bad...
Yet every broken man whispers
to his devil,
you're the father I never had.

My chains are my desires,
my eyes are your possessions,
and when I walk into the fires,
my lies are my confessions.

Just a taste of your flesh,
will bring me to life,
but if you depend on me
your heart is a knife.

My father was a ghost,
but I grew up
I sought bigger ghosts,
the devil in my throw-up.

You can run from what haunts you,
you can hide from your past,
but the devil will flaunt you,
up there on his mast;

because you're the fool
who sought comfort in gold
you would have learned,
if you could grow old.

I've been the king
in an ocean of sand,
not knowing choice
is in the palm of my hand.

baby eyes
all the time

every landscape
any face

mirror skies
baby eyes

everything
is new