Give me the cup
and I'll fill it,
with guilt,
with blood,
with a future named in honor
of a nightmare that couldn't rouse
my tired bones.

I have found where all roads end
and laughed at the sky like a madman,
drinking the rain that fell into my open
mouth.

Give me the athame and I'll sharpen
it on my chipped teeth before
I plunge it into trembling earth
that smells of my mother's perfume.

I have knelt here before
but only now do I feel the bruises.

Only now do I love them.

Every other moment,
beneath my feet,
I feel the ground's metamorphosis
into open air.

Truth is a tightening noose.
Trying to syphon anything but lies
as white as the proof is deniable
is useless.

Spoonful after spooonful flying
into a smiling mouth;
no airplane sounds.

Missing the tentacles writhing beneath
the detritus on the Earth's surface
is as close we orphans can get to
being detrimental to a cause.

Claws marks on the inside of coffin lids
scrawl their own metaphor for the squall
that drifts slow and minimal
but ends at The All coming to a
screeching halt in the middle
of the walkways connecting
the land of the living with
the dreams of palms outstretched
for what we will never learn.

The days are becoming too many bricks
through one window
or too much hornet soju before hitting
the next noodle spot.

Old news like the petrichor.

The walls are screaming "pick up the pen"
like it's so simple to not sip the sickness
out of this distance and call it a friend.

Mentally melting,
sell it quick,
sell it quicker.
The market's on nose-dive.

Stuck and helpless but on a slow climb
to mindful of what "self-as-center" gets.

I guess this isnt idleness...

this morning you came to me
in a dream,
with your hair dripping wet
and wrapped in a cream
colored bath towel,
looking like the ******* image
of the cosmos collapsing.

right as i felt like God himself
i started crying like a child
alone and lost in some monstrous night.

i never knew i missed you this much.

If I'm not holding your hand
then you refuse to walk with me.

I wish that character flaw of yours
would find a porch to die beneath.

I wouldn't mind smelling the rot
for weeks before finding it.

you can hear them scream
"peep the soul glowing"
from the cheap seats
we need to keep the bones
just to throw 'em into stockpots
believe what you want
we wont notice
it's deep sleep or hopscotch over
whole oceans turned to vapor
the pay-dirt is favored over
that traitorous flavor you slang
at the end of your week
wait
who transcended the breeze
without leaving a dream-scape
say it loud
say it loud
my nose bleeds gold
no need to peep the soul
the glow and the punctuation are implied by the flow
plus the gumption fades quick
ive tried writing the folds out of the plot
it not ******* possible
say it loud
say it now
say it proudly
stop

Just a sip from the abyss
and then it's bed time for all of us.

Twisting words around sunshine
is a gun to the head of God
if God wasn't busy with the mystery
hidden in the entropy spilling
out of my pen.

Just a sip, kids.

This is just some **** for you to skip rocks to.