You ****** exotic,
beautiful creature.
Here we are again
I made sure to not be tardy this time
Which was easy since you moved ten minutes away
You called me seven times on the
walk from the parking lot, to your front door.
On the fourth call you mentioned pouring another shot of Jim Beam
So no, I will not be ******* you.
I am obligated to let you know I am a mess.
That is, I would have told you I am a mess
If you didn't mute me by providing more then enough proof it was mutual.
you said lets dump our boyfriends
date each other
Poly wouldn't be enough attention for you
Who have passed self destructive
into destroyed.
With your unzipped *** stained lingerie and ****** that I found
Still inside you.
you forgot it was there when you asked me to *******
the next morning
After my fifteenth no.

God bless that ******
Caution tape boon from some deity I should pray to more often.
Blessing me with one last chance to think before my actions.
That ****** saved me from any number of potential tragedies.
Yes I was disgusted
Not because the cotton string was mistaken originally for some sort of ***** rat tail.
Not because I imagined for a breif moment, a tiny sufficated animal
who got a little to curious.
Not because you were offended I wouldn't yank it out and ******* anyway,
instead of assuming it was a sign
I should stop my hands.
Go to bed.
Disgusted at myself.
if not for that magical used ******
from what I assume to be
the God of a full eight hours of sleep and
Inverted libido
I would have let myself be seduced Into spiraling back into ******* the pain away.

I've worked too hard at reminding myself who I am.
To let myself be the man who throws away the bruised hearts.
Or drowns them in a sea of bodies.

No.
Now that you've woken me.
Put your body away.
Now that you're sober.
Where is your heart.
Go on, get it.
Beautiful.
God is that a specimen.
Bruised from aorta to base.
Here's mine.
All purple and calloused.
Uncanny isn't it?


almost Identical

Of Drained batteries
The white plastic robot that uses them
The pink and poppy wallpaper of
Tiny bedroom the robot sits in.
Child too grown to want pink walls.
Doesn't want the toy either
Not since the battery died
Overalls tucked into boots tear down pastel gardens
Paint over the chipped glue in beige.
The Dreamer
Of a drained battery
Of a toy.
Sees the walls from memory now.
Won't open her eyes in the bedroom anymore.
wear beige anymore.
This robots Batteries are hard to replace
Beige Is difficult to charge.

Part 1

He constantly thinks
About their future
Raising children
A big field to play on
White picket fence to hold it all in
Never liked the idea of
Raising animals
Preferred the two of them
Talking through their problems
He doesn't trust
The media
Saying: buy this, be loud, sell your body
This kind of danger
Not a world to raise children
He loves her
Can't cage this feeling
He is protector
Loves feeling her head on his chest
If only for a moment
He'll never clip her wings
Loves watching her fly
He prays for her to come back
for the children

Part 2

She will leave
Any man who stops her
Loving how she wants to
Without some cage
Wants to run a farm
All the men shes collected
Goats,  Cows, Chickens
Working deep into the hours of the night
Never sleeping
Her life of addiction
Injected into her bloodstream
So she does
What she needs to survive
To love
So many people love her
Always touching, kissing, whispering
One of the many lost souls in this forest
Her hips a curtain call to tragedy
Long enough to need her love
Then she'll leave
Returning only to those she trust
To deliver story books
of goats, cows, chickens


Part 3, Across**

He constantly thinks
she will leave
About their future
any man who stops her
Raising children
loving how she wants to
A big field to play on
without some cage
White picket fence to hold it all in,
wants to run a farm
Never liked the idea of
All the men shes collected
Raising animals,
Goats, cows, chickens
Preferred the two of them
working deep into the hours of the night
Talking through their problems
never sleeping
He doesn't trust
her life of addiction
The media
injected into her bloodstream
Saying: buy this, be loud, sell your body
so she does
This kind of danger
what she needs to survive
Not a world to raise children
to love
He loves her
so many people love her
Can't cage this feeling
always touching, kissing, whispering
He is protector
one of the many lost souls in this forest
Loves feeling her head on his chest
her hips a curtain call to tragedy
If only for a moment
long enough to need her love
He'll never clip her wings
then she'll leave
Loves watching her fly
returning only to those she trust
He prays for her to come back
to deliver story books
for the children  
of goats, cows, chickens

Roomate:
"It's uhh...
...Mad Max role play."

Naked Bound man
center of the room:
*"We get really into character"

The field is covered in bright green grass that He,
The baby dragon nibbles on.
I'm allergic to grass but I like watching him eat it.
know it fills him up.
The blades start rustling and we hear a train.
The sky gets bright forming a giant mushroom
I should hide in my brick shelter but he,
The baby dragon gets off on the danger of it all.
I am advised to just stand by.
Wait for the sky to clear
When the billow clouds pass
He'll be standing there.
Charred, Alive, Stumbling towards me.
I can catch him
Bandage his wings.

So I wait.
But while I'm blinded by these radiation fueled lights
I cry, and scream
Completely useless.
He flies off
waves of radiation singe past me.
Face Burning.
Skin Boiling.
I call "Dragon!"
"Baby Dragon!"
But he never answers.
Too busy getting lost in the wasteland.
Soaking in the radiation.
Loves the way it burns.
So I just sink
crawl towards what I think is his
Cold, mutated, dead body.
left behind by the whirring storm of the end.
And I rip it's wings off
Crying and screaming
Snot pouring down my face
Dust storm lashing cross my back
Red gashes against the
Glowing bright green sky
Loud muted sandy horror

Until It stops.
Goes quiet.
When I wake up.
The grass is gone.
He is standing there.
Baby dragon.
Not Scarred. Not Tired.
But stumbling forward into my arms.
His wings full of pride, glowing
Wrap around us and hug tight.
"I missed you." He says
"I love you". He says
I was the one charred, boiled.
But the baby dragon mends my blisters.
Rubs my head
whispers my name.
we count the seconds together.
Before the train noises start again.

My Bipolar Disorder is a stout-bodied mammal with horns and cloven hooves.

There are two types of My Bipolar Disorder:
Domestic, and Mountain.

My Bipolar disorder typically spends its days grazing on grasses

My Bipolar Disorder will dig depressions in the ground to sleep, rest, and bathe in.

My Bipolar disorder is super social during the winter, and tends to go solo during the summer.

My Bipolar Disorders tail usually points up! (Unless it is frightened or sick)

My Bipolar Disorder is extremely Curious and Intelligent.

Once My bipolar disorder has discovered a weakness in its fence, it will exploit it repeatedly.

There are over 300 distinct breeds of My Bipolar Disorder.

Within' minutes of being born, my Bipolar Disorder is up and walking around.

My bipolar disorder used to live in the white house with Abraham Lincoln.

One day an ethiopian Herder walked in on My Bipolar Disorder liteally bouncing off of cliff walls because it just Discovered Coffee.

My Bipolar Disorder has four stomachs

The horns of My Bipolar Disorder are typically removed to reduce injury to humans.

My Bipolar disorder will explore anything new or unfamiliar in its surroundings, mainly with its mouth and tongue.

My bipolar disorder readily reverts to the wild if given the opportunity.

My Bipolar Disorder is more susceptible to Parasites and other infectious diseases when it is mismanaged.

My bipolar disorder has had a lingering connection with Satanism and pagan religions

My Bipolar Disorder is considered a "clean" animal by jewish dietary laws.

According to Zeus
As long as you leave it's bones whole,
My Bipolar disorder will keep coming back to life.

Tell me gently, beautiful Siren from the rocks
Whisper me memories
Who seeks my life end short
inform me bluntly, Beautiful siren from the sea
the soldiers marching to my gate.
Should I set the pitch to pour?

The demons march
I seek guidance in your song
Is there something I missed?
We’re sick
our morale is feeding the ant hills

Consult me Nicely, Beautiful siren from the rocks
tell me just how many friends,
I’ll lose to this war.

We found the sugar, found the wine.
lost the honey, lost time.
We’re out of rations,
low on passion.
men coddling tiny strands of hope.

Save me Now, beautiful Siren from the Grave.
My boats still floating
I could sail away.
back to my castle,
where my people lay.

I came here for vacation.
but I found your voice, decided to stay.

The people of my land pray,
that I go deaf and return to them.
but I decided to hear your voice
while my kingdom Rots and fades
While my people die and pray
I needed this getaway

my people, dying by my blade.
can’t stand them lookin’ up to me.
Their tears falling at my feet.
Them saying. “Please king, save me.”
praying “Don’t let them **** me.”
screaming. “They took my family!”
I wasn’t born to be a king.
I wasn’t born to be a king.
The siren sang her song to me.