The curse of nostalgia
Reminding better days
From out of a past
Whence pain was forgot
The suffering of innocence
Gnashing at the leash
Holding back the progressive
Drowning in false pretense
Lying to sleep in waves
A beached whale
Choking the lungs
Clogging the veins
****** dreams, faded denim
Torn at the seam
Seamless

I'm all lies and bad etiquette
Don't like myself but then again who's head am I in?
Mine or yours?
Mine or my fantasy?
Mine or thine's enemy?
I'm a child of hate, spite and fury...
'cept that's a lie, my mom's an angel and my dad's an influence.
I made myself into whatever the **** I am, so I can't point the blame at them.
But what am I?
I feel like a success and I got the track record to ******* prove it.
But this other part screams I'm nothing.
Isn't nothing all we are?
What makes a man human?
****, what makes a man a man?
We're finally waking up to the idea that this was all a costume party,
Frankly it's about ******* time.
I don't care if you're buddhist, muslim, christian or any other domain,
I'm sick of watching my friends hurt.
It's just another thing I can't control and I'm sick to dying with all this ******* lying.
Maybe one day I'll wake up and forget my name and the simulation will come crashing down.
But since  I think I'm in it, I'd kinda like to win it but without all this ******* regret.

But honestly, I'm as two-faced as they come.
Only it's typically me I'm lying to.
Lately I feel like that's growing
The cracks are showing,
Thank god for comedy, poetry and metaphysical mutilation.
Transgress and live free,
Escape spiritual poverty.

I'm hurting myself a syllable at a time
A memory that unwinds,
But a moment in time
And maybe this is nothing
Maybe nothing is everything, all that'll be, all that screams
At me
But I don't know anymore what I believe, what I need, what I see
I'm gaslighting myself on fire, the flames growing ever higher
Holy matrimony burning this church, I'm a liar
A funeral pyre
And all I desire
A voice on the end of the line, a second in time, to make the clock unwind.
I'm a danger to myself, the worst enemy of my health
But I keep on pushing forward into the unknown,
Keep on pushing further away from you
And everything that might have been
if I had only watched my mouth.
Lies crept out between a harlot's lips
and I drank them like a sweet wine.
I'm still trying to recover everything I've ever been
But too much of it was tied to you.
And it's only now, as I pick the scab, that I see how ******* broken this all has left me.
You're laying this to rest,
While I'm laying it to waste
Away,
Forever away,
Until I close my eyes again
And trace the lines of your smile
The pitch of your laugh, your cadence and grace.
Baby, I'm an ***.
There's so much I can only say in these lines
And I doubt you'll ever actually read 'em.
Maybe that's best, I don't know, but it's all that I've got.
I've been writing the same poem for fifteen years
So yeah, I already know,
Baby, I'm a hack.

My little secret
I hold you in the arms of my mind
And beat myself senseless
For these thoughts

I am incapable of growth
I am the **** of the innocent
I am the death of love
Watch me shudder
Writhe
And contort myself
Into something resembling human

Where is the fire of hell
That I've been promised?
Take me far from here
On wings of ashen lead

I am the devil on your shoulder
The fist-**** that splits you apart
The coldest slaveholder
Turning your flesh into
A work of art

I am the evil of man
From the atom split apart
No attention span
Or anytime for
Your bleeding heart

I am the plague priest
A disease of the heart
The lonely ****** beast
In heat and shall seek
To rip you apart

I am loveless Christ:
He who walks on water
and only drowns
under your
obligations.

We all are murderers
Don't lie to yourself

Each and every one of us
Has blood on their hands

There's nothing to be done
It is what it is

Learn to accept that you
Are bleeding the world dry

Try to implement changes
That limit our damages

But don't you look in the mirror
And tell yourself
You're ******* innocent

Here I am, barely awake and half starved
I'm exhausted of being exhausted
But closing my eyes and you're all I see
Each movement and melody
It's an exhaustive list of that which is killing me
Your hands, flat, running down the leg of your jeans
Each ******' smile pristine
I'll thank god to let me cherish this memory
And your eyes ... so alive
I'm being pulled every which way but all I want to do
Is witness you
Words come to mind like divine, sublime, fine saccharine
But in my silence I'm columbine inside
Walking a fine line between destitute pursuit and abused lewd
My insides ache for what goes on behind closed doors
Baby, I'm a ***** but I've always been more, always been yours
Always been always was
But always ain't nearly long enough these days
I've got it bad, each line I hear reminds me of you
Reminds me I'm *******
I've got a world of pain ahead of me here and I'm steering towards the median each time I close my eyes.
I don't know if you know what you do or if your words are as carefully chosen as mine.
If you do, then I guess I'm the mouse finally bleeding dry this time.

I'm screaming in seconds like transparent orbs
The words of intoxication blend my speech
Until my mind is barely making sense
Of the reality I've lost touch with.

I question myself and my everything
And every single movement like a weather vane
Capturing the winds of my attention
To lesson my mentions and increase the tensions.

I ain't so sure about myself as I once was,
Maybe it's all of the drugs or the lack thereof.

Hate to be a bore but I'm looking to score,
But I ain't sure if we're playing hockey, tennis or soccer.
Never suffer a witch or burn a martyr,
Especially when they're the supplier.

Ain't much of a liar but then I ain't ever been much for the truth neither.
I'm teething and biting the ***** of this so called life and I drink what I like, no matter the color.

Deep down and somewhere under, I shudder at the thought of what could be if I would stop speaking in metaphors and open up my energy in a direct application.
But since that's just a fantastic, too apt destination, I might as well shut my ******* mouth and finish this poem.

But I never know when to quit,
So last verse is dedicated to you...
Whatever the ******* are.

And now the years are catching up with me, my distended belly disgorging spurts of rotten ****

And now the porcelain god grows to encompass the whole of reality

And now my energy wanes by mid-day, no longer capable of fifty-hour work days

And now, too, the flames of rebellion in me are stoked by capitalist bellows

And now the anger I lived with for so long has metastasized to the culture at large

And now I inspect my mirror image fatefully waiting to discover receding hair line, bleeding gums, and liver spots

And now the world at large coddles up to fascism like it was a warm fire on a dark night of the soul

And now I prepare my soul for the blood I will shed in the name of peace, the blood with which I will wash my hands

And now my friend's houses are burning to ashes while the rich horde water like wealth

And now I beg the god I hardly believe in for restitution, or another CEO slaying to fuel their fear

And now I lay my head to rest upon mother earth's breast and wait for the waves to take me

Skull-******
and broken,
she finds herself in smoke-screened back alleys,
cheap hotels, and meetings with God.

Her AA sponsor's a bottle of champagne,
but she stays sober
because she hasn't a corkscrew.

We **** in tangle of limbs,
regret mingling with moans,
our bodies becoming one,
until we part again,
distant memories already fading
by the time the door closes.

I love in her the same things
that I hate in me,
those laughing, needling points
of failure
that seem to define my waking moments.

At least she knows what she is,
the pride of the ******
and all that.

I'm still searching for answers,
long passed the point of finding,
while she looks for a moment of peace,
an escape from this waking world,
and who am I to say she's wrong?

The divide of time separates us like the bridges that we burned to light our nights. The warmth gained from destruction, an illusionary phenomenon at best, failed to keep the cold from biting at our young hearts. Forgive me if I stutter when I speak of our shared history. It's just that I haven't forgotten tender kisses in a video store parking lot, discount department stores, or the first touch of your *****-clad *******. I wish I remembered how everything went bad, wish I picked you over the harpy I selected. We wouldn't have lasted, but I'm nostalgic for the times that could have been now that the end draws near and my mid-life crisis reaches its apex. Like the river that named you - you drain me dead, see?