Does the way out come to those who ask politely?
Asking for a friend.

Beholden
I am begun.
Halted by the myth,
Its peace, a mist, an avalanche.
An ember, flickering in a babies eye.
Beholden. Afowl. Anew.
A ghost.

She'll never understand
These callous lonely bitter eyes of mine.
He'll never see beneath,
These shallow ghostlike poisonous personas
In this charleton pantomime of mine.

I fell in love with my idol
He toppled me, I lay flat,
He towered me, I stood strong.
He cast me out. I'm done praying.
The totem rodded me
And I received.
Let someone else prostrate before that draft ******* plank.
Silly painted branch. Graffitied with lies.

Tread lightly on shards of comfort
Outstretched blades of rust stab at welcomeness
Place your blade in your scabbard sword dancer
Swivel and point, smile and wave, and slice and suffer
Your hole pours red. Life gleefully leaves its husk.

Even in my wildest dreams...
I'm here. Waiting for you.
In our secret place.
Our place.
Waiting for you.
Waiting for you to free me.
From times chains,
From you.
I'm waiting.
Waiting for you to free me.
From you.

Holding, close to you tonight.
So cold, we shiver. Our minds
Beg closeness, but know only fight,
Our dark words twisting the light.

The angle is clear, go.
We saw all thier hopelessness.
Pray heaven for them, they weep thier lonely songs.
Crying empty tears through moulded heartless glass goggles.
Clawing at what is set before,
We see what we bled behind,
The laceration, crystal inevitability.
Hindsight is a hand grenade.
Would you blow up yourself?
Pieces. Jigsaw. Do they match up?
Black bag demon swimming effortlessly through the air. He knows his destination and he glides effortlessly across the chunks of human.
Cradle to the grave. Polyethylene panther.
Silent in its mission but getting tired of a full meaty meal. What makes a bodybag in the desert?

Seems silly to me.
Truth is a sycophantic nightmare.
The most Craven hearts stumble over the boldest moves.
Everyones OK
Nobody's crippled by despair.
Everyone swims in the same shallow puddle.
Of desperation
And then I ask you how you are.
And you regurgitate the same putrid line.
I'm alright.
Seems silly to me.

Is there a reason you refer to me in the past tence?
Have you ever licked marble doctor?
Salty and certain.
I'm going to ****** my husband. You know I am. Tomorrow.

If algorithms had flavour it would probably taste like McDonald's.

An empire of a man,
Nestled deep under the sun.
A sign, to march back home.

A man within the moon,
Emblazoned across the earth,
Home, a long way off.

An inferno moulds the void
Rapture embrace; the sky,
As empire stains the dust.

Chewy chewy bugs. Make the fox do the happy dance.
Let the fox dance. Hes happy.
Feasting on his tea.
Chewy fox happy fox.
Cute fox in his fox hole.
Leave the fox be.
In his happy hole.
He'll play tomorrow.

Monolith of despair.
Obsidian door. But open a crack.
Enough to see the pain shining through.
I knock on the sarcophagus.
She answers tentatively.
Painful, anxious.
The mummy is awake,
Today is a good day.

Entangled, enabled, ennobled.
Eternally enfeebled.

Endlessly empty. Embarrassed.

Ended.

Clink of glass on glass
Life blood pouring forth
Cold and sour
Slick and good
The haze will claim us soon

The black chair
Is black.
Accessorised with yellow.

Your head in my hands,
Breathing slowly my scent
Choking and joking
It isn't as real as it is to me

Nuzzled in close.
My boosom in bloom.
Coughing rejecting
I dream of time when you can just love me.

I wash you away
A **** down the drain
Your silence are screams
I wish you would just make it up to me.

Tears. Icicles against the concrete.
His semicircular view of a world passing by.
He wept. Crystals, chest freezer vista.
The warmth of friends seemed so distant.
Sand dunes on a simple path.
Gasping for air he longed for moisture.
Silly oasis would never come.
His friends loaded the chat and he wasn't there.
And they wondered if he really meant what he said.

Words so cold,
**** off everything.
Take the memories.
Words so hollow.
Forget all of it,
Horde the lot of it.
Words forlorn,
Swallow all the pain
Take this mental strain.
Words, my own.
Be myself again,
Life, a filthy stain

Ripped away,
When we said we were close.
She won't love you like I can.
Yet here I am.
Your dead allotment.
Bitter and fertile. Just how you left me.

Clinging to happiness
Grip is slipping,
Another line
Another day
Another ***.
Another beer.
One last hurrah.
I wonder to myself,
Does my mother actually know me?

It was Gustav Hunger that brought the storm.
We watched in agony at the cruelty of it.
Children beheaded in the orchards.
Our hands are bloodied now.
Nothing grows in the fields of sorrow.
The expanse is blinding. Gustav says we are to be made into honest and true working folk.
He killed Annie mason yesterday.
I miss my boy.

A Sorry sight
With the kung ****
Scales and.
Say it loud. Martial facepaint.
Tea towel set,
For a familiar knife and fork. Like this.

Fbi agent poke made his play.
My ******* has never been the same.
Chess for Christians.
Noahs **** .
Running because it's a Sunday
Afternoon tea. Served with *******.

Cigarette lit,
Dancing embers in the rain.
Breathe in.

Head to the sky.
Exhale.

A pause.
A thought.
A moment for yourself.

Bliss.

Let the downpour wash away the tears.

Can't use these hands
Fingers aren't my own
Can't say what I mean.

Can't stand this life
This depression is all I own
I love what it's done to me.

Can't remember if it's real
The men that speak down to me
So **** in their long white gowns.

Can't cope with this no more
My world better ******* explode.
At least then I can watch the fireworks.

Best foot forward
Forward marches back.

His hands. Lonely, cold. Open to the end.
He sees. The terrifying rust in the rainbow.
He is. Alone.
Afraid.

The ***; he drinks his coffee.
A coffee with a ***.

With coffee, he smokes a cigarette,
A coffee with a ***.

He enjoys a smoke and coffee,
The ***, coffee,with ***.

He'll do the same tomorrow,
A coffee, and a ***.

Bright lights, noises,
My mind is overcome.
My body rips around my neck,
My mind is not my own.

Glowing hands make pretty signs,
Enticing overtones.
Come closer, into the nether realm,
All I know, I'm not my own.

In a crystal, I am a butterfly.
I walk when I should run.
In a dream world, I fly, another life,
A body. Never mine to own.

This mind of concubines.
Of slaves to all I want.
My needs have become a metaphor,
For wrongs not quite my own.

Maybe in the real world,
I'll find my way back home.
Until then, I ride this downward *****,
I've made this life my own.

Newspaper Sunday,
Another day gone.
Clawing the clockface, for just one more rave.
Hiding from sunrise, I've seen it before.
Cold and empty. Weekend comes round.
Craving beige in an candle of colours,
Holding out for an impromptu paint spill.
Beige has never seemed so intense.
When the world is beige, so bright I'm blind.
I'll shut my eyes and hide in the dark,
My different beige will light up the spark.

Into the vapid singularity,
He's ****** forth, whole.
The wasp fly's by, unfettered.

She toils amongst the gravel.
Blood eageled by her hollow gains.
Timid, as time slips softly across her lips.

Time slips around open wrists,
that yearn for redemption.
Tracing crosses in the sky.

Hallowed, and hollowed. She contains her sick spells.

Veridian green billboards with a vetitver scent.

But red with wine and regret.

Pray, the saints go wild.
Sin and the gods smile wide.

Hiding in a blanket
Prayer lost in a church,
Shielded in a pew but no-one cares that you're there,
It isn't why you're looking when you're feeling the burn,
Thoughts exorcising reason and it's all you can bare.

Tomes providing reason,
When you're lost and alone,
As you see the gold and silver, and you feel you're at home.
But just behind the curtain peeking cold and afraid,
Is the same possessive helplessness that you feel in your veins.

Are you blessed on holy contact
When you roll back your sleeves?
Are you baptised by the needle as it washes your needs?
As the vestments of your eyelids black the white of your eyes,
As the emptiness and loneliness comes to blacken your sky.

The prayer that you speak when you need God the most.
Is the silence as you see him when he runs through your host.

And when ***** fills your lungs and you've completed the prayer,
When the tourniquet is loosened and your veins breathe some air,
When the needle bows it's head and you can writhe in dark,
When nobody is looking and you don't know where you are...

Feel him wash, and cleanse your soul.
Leopard stigmata, forgotten soul.
Breath is a whisper. Lie in your hole.

Empty.
Please take the world away from me.
Quietly,
Slit away,
Hands from the outside.

Hush now puppet.
The strings are ******* in bows.
Claws off stage with fingers tangled,
Cleave into the brain.

Cry hands unbled.
Hate thy neighbour.
Neck unsnapped.
Wood construct nightmare.

Normality trickles on by
Whilst I suffocate on the banks.
Such a pretty poison, glistening in the sun.
To suffocate or drown in toxic sludge.
To choke or hang.
Pass me the rope, It'll soon be weekend.

Walk down the logs
**** in the stream.
Dance on the cobbles.
**** up your knees.

Walk an the pathway.
Death in the brush.
Skip on the cobbles.
Murderous rush.

Over the threshold.
In mothers arms.
Dagger in cuddles.
Blood soaking.

Belt neck tight.
He shuffled in his turtleneck trousers.
'so comfortable' he thought to himself.
Viviennne Westside prime goods.
As he turned blue, he thought how much he loved his new trousers and his f...

So forlorn,
You hide behind smiles.
So bitter,
Your sheathe your spittle, smile.
Only you know what this madness is, doubt
You'd ever know if those words were cried out,
I'd die a thousand times you'd only smile,
I've died a thousand times and you stayed quiet.

He pushes at his straight lines,
It's heaven in there,
Whole and pure and white,
It's wholesome.
It's tingling and tantalising.
Add one can for flavour.
My god just let me sleep.
Forever.

He sits in his stupor.
Pooled upon the floor.
Normally, that's how he prays.

He writes his best.
In his centre handed spirograph.
To tell the world how he hurts.

Like the shrinkless rest of us he writes.
The best he knows, the only way he knows.
Honesty and suffering. A man, convicted to the pit.

A paradise for staring eyes
Spectacular show.

But he has no interest.
His talent is his silence.
Spoken through his words.
Wound in his insanity.

Honesty is a bike.
Ridden by everyone, but mastered by very few.

And so he waffles on. Because he loves bikes.

Wined, dined, not a lady in sight.
Stomach lump. Body drunk.
Time a line of pudding.
Start your engines. Wave the flag.
This cart will race for miles.
No horizon. No turn off.
Miles and miles and miles.

Didn't die in my sleep today.
A good day.
So says everyone else
Hands to the sky,
A meteor phoned home.
But I still didn't die in my sleep.
There's always tomorrow.

His rotten sleeves waft in the wind
Sleepily staining the air
He swirls in his stench
Flouncing in stink
Hatefully spinning his song.

Wildly turning
His zombie breakdown
Bellowing a gutteral noise

He spins till he bleeds
Staining the earth.
The onlookers gawp at the show.

The circle slows down
His pulverised ankles
Can no longer keep up the dance.

He slumps in a puddle
A grave of his making
A corpse
A posterity curse.

The glint in the water,
It sprinkles in your eyes.
A Nymph gesture.
All mine.
It glows, in everything you do.
Mirror, opinions. Lost. Because it's in those.
Those big browny green eyes.

The black chair stays black. Accessorised with yellow.

Here sister,
Why do you hide from your friends?
Here silly,
We are your friends.
Stay sister,
Its just us.
Hear sister?
Nothing cries, and no-one cries but you.