Like a sot you cling to my memory.
No one cares to clean the grime
Building on the walls.
What a welcoming dream,
The home I offer.
The open-air travels
Through paper-thin walls
With the ease of a valley.
Drizzle, drizzle
Over me.
Ash and chalk
Mark the shape of my mouth.
A distant echo of a crack
And my arm goes numb.

When she blinks her magical eye,
The one that rolls and slides, It flickers a flutter a silk soft shudder,
A baby local goodbye.

The raging roars quiet
The shuffling seas foam.

This is the warrior
whom made me her king.

A ranger,
a wizard,
a watcher,
a rogue.
A queen’s amen
A king’s soft sigh.

Trigger the trusted,
the twisted,
the kind.
A quicker fault facer
with a softer inside.
No royal master
From earth is seen.

A sniggle,
a snuggle,
a snort,
a snore.

Dust sparkles against blinking lights,
Casting their colors against empty grays.
Twinkling they quickly dissolve,
Their second of brilliance.
The mascots of this fleeting art.

The silence is filled with whispers,
Of long forgotten lines and songs.
The dead soliloquy left on the floor.
Waiting for another to warm its blood.
How many lay on this painted floor?

Colors will open caskets,
Solos will steal bright smiles
Replace them with gnawing pain
Harmony will hearken hope
Teach the *******.

Soon, the overstuffed chairs will fill
With hungry eyes ready to judge.
Tonight, they will leave gorged,
Gasping for air and looking for liquid relief.
The life coming is full and ready.

The faint sounds are building.
The actors are warming their voices.
The musicians are tuning their strings.
While I flip switches, open lines,
And brace to harness the flow.

I want to be anything
Criminal stealing hope
Saint giving peace
Tyrant breaking skulls

Anything to vanish
To escape this flesh
Forget the trauma
Dissolve the fingerprints
Leave tears behind


Bars of nerves and veins
Walls dripping blood clots
Floors of rotting black gelatin

A bleeding heart
is neither blessing
Nor curse
Simply a purgatory
For the weak fool

Beauty has been murdered by my hand.
Every feature disgusts and appalls me.

I have strung my own noose,
Stepped through the loop.
I stand ready
For you
To kick
My stool

The fake world speeds communication
Yet quickly sends sin and the devil too.

I stand a ****
And a harlot
Unworthy
Of your sweet perfection.

A hero
A god
A king
Things I never will be

My place is set
My destiny cast
There is no motion
Not a fight, nor a chance

I will live
I will breathe
I will choke
I will die
As this meaningless
Vision of a guy

Tongue tied with the taste of tar and turpentine.
The sugar sacrifices its sweetness against that wall in vain.
Body aches as the tasty toxins travel to places
It was never meant to touch.

Yet, I take more.
More, more, more,
Hoping that dank,
*****,
disgusting saliva
Can be washed away.
All that remains,
Again and again
Is ash.

When pressed my hairs tickle,
But perceive the distance
Of a sea from the soft source.
Even the delicate distraction of touch
On the private *****
Projects a subtle pain.

All that is wanted is the desire,
To have and hold.
Tormented and tainted
Seen as tattered and torn.
Promptly tossed away like trash.
Muffled and mangled comes
The voice of a meager modest monster
Of a man.