This aching churns within me where happiness will bubble
T-minus 5...4...

My writing is ****. There's no art here anymore.
Sob
******* onto paper.

Everyone relates to interpretation, but inkblots have no soul.
Stains, waiting.
Sunlight cannot creep where darkness cannot grow.

Coin-flip. Mind-trip. Sad rag-time beat out, off beating
beat poet beats drums no one can hear.
There's nothing here.

Jeckyl wishes Hyde would hide, run away
never come back--
I'll never forget how much I lack
I've cracked, back fractures breaking
too much ecstasy--not enough--You're shaking

is that me?
can't be.

This desperation
this need to cling to SOMETHING
it's worse every time--it's cheap when I rhyme
I can't ride out these mistakes, can't fake that I'm ok

I seem to be doing fine.
but its one
or the other in my mind

-NOT SO YOU COULD THROW LIGHTSWITCH RAVES-

can't be saved
keep repeating
I wish I could be saved but
they never let me have my pony.
No white horses
No dreaming

So obsessed with this wheel I keep spinning
the only thing I seem to be able to do is change direction.

tedious, no?
It's what we're working with.

All I ever wanted was somebody to love me
now...when it comes to be
it just makes me more crazy
how can someone love me?
it doesn't make sense.
I go to rip off your mask and I take off your face--

surrounded by rotting skin
searching for a way to end
so how can I begin?

look at us
dreaming, unsleeping.
Vibrant broken, ever-enlightening youth.

Singing dirges as if we knew the dead,
as if we had no friends.

Shower me with your wisdom,
your ever widening meaning.
Like this fractured mentality wasn't what the world was reaching for.

Pushed past the point of no return,
came back full circle.

maybe this time we'll find an end
or maybe we can meet again at the middle.

Wherever whispers ruled,
that's where I'll love you.

Wherever fear befriended those who stood unoffended, who reached
for something.
Who understood the currencies of blood,
of screaming into the wind;

of challenging the world to ******* harder.
That's where I'll always love you.


My benign chaos.


My finest rage
my purest angst,
my greatest sadness,
my only meaning.

You can't feel unless someone tells you that you're feeling.

When I grow up I don't want to:
I told you I'd wait by the window, all I ever wanted was forever.
I'll never close it, never.

Here, in this sadness, in this panic that what we feel will last forever?
that's where I'll always love you,
forgive you,
wait for you.

dear peter.

Nothingness
hums, quivers, aches ashes once again with
midnights slipped though slowly shutting eyes.

Statues turn to flesh, come alive.
Rain-danced the cracks away.
Smoothed over once again,
built from nothing out of clay.

I'm waiting for the echo,
new sound, sweet music
my 'eres itch, anticipate to quiver
wait to feel a breath, then to shiver.

Ambience is all I have to give
in search of death, to breathe again, to live.
To sleep perchance to dream and then to wake
alone yet someone's arms your pillows fake.

Would you pay for this clarity?
Magnifying glasses are still a barrier.
Yet hope is on my side that there will rise
another who can see with clear fire in their eyce.

Wait now until the world escapes.
Skin cold like stone again will rest,
waiting for the moment
when flesh will capture crumbling breast.

Madness
breathes, shivers, resonates manifestation with we who play with dice
sixes, snake eyes; kiss yours if you kiss mine.

Sweetbitter kiss caressed
lips. esophagus. stomach. chest.

inaccessible 'till death.
untouchable--so close to the chest.

unable to put out fires, burns
will have to rest
where they lie smoldering, watching
eyes walk bye.

I close my I.

Carry me, now--not home
not to neverland
not over the rainbow

Just carry me softly in sweet-smelling acidic things.
--a little corrosion does a girl a world of good--
sing me songs, wolf-in-sheeps-clothes, that my mother used to

and bring me gifts on angel-dusted wings,
nothingness never before made greater feeling.

Our lives themselves strived for meaning while we strived for the reason for being
the way the great cold faceless hands created
our unyielding . . . softness
separate from and not unlike a feather
equal both in whimsical light, lack of value, disease and helplessness
great beauty, plainness, and utter insignificance

Us little things are great only to those with great imagination--
light in the clouds,
break in your fever
blip on your radar
the fast one before the flatline always seems so much shorter than it should. Shorter than they said it would.

I relax
sweet relief
sweet goodnight

we'll wake up and try this one more time.
we won't get it right-- you can't
get it right

give me this bip, this sleep, this chance.

*******, we'll still try--
to get it right sometime.

Powder keg
caked-cracked hands
reach grab
snag
shuffle softly into sand

Sun unknowingly blows open doors wider
than any mouth can go
oh
open wider
wider wider

Wire tap my mind
so you can breathe inside grab
a drink unwind
unhinge
bring to the brink

Binge to the brim
skim skip hop trip
roll down the hill
if you break your crown
bags of cats could tell you

even in the dark there is a light
brighter
too bright to see
breathing
being
heating hot coals waking the sleeping

My mother told me

Bottle caps, broken glass,
dried chewing gum from persons passed,
and you.
You-there.
Obliterated.

Condemned to die
by thoughtless giants:
passers-by with no alliance
to rain, nor sun,
nor earth or its creatures smaller than their thumb.

Your brothers lie about you
and cousins lie around;
awareness reaching only feeling--
feeling only reaching now
and unforgiving ground.

Scattered masses who dared
to run from home
to find the rain--
to feel the air
so moist it could
sustain a life--
just once. Just one time.

To dream that a child of the earth
could feel the light,
the freedom within thinner space
before, again, within the ground to be encased.

To play like children often do,
those wet-shoed, runny nosed few.
To thrive without surviving--

But this is the price you pay
to live so explosively before dying.

I wish that I could see
through your eyes the dream
that makes it worth it
to yield to fate in exchange
for a dance beneath the open sky.

Or do you know?
I'm sure you do.
I like to imagine I would,
if I were you

Do you realize your mistake?
Before the sun, your life will take?

And if, again you had the choice,
would you still emerge from earth's embrace for skys rejoice?

I'd like to think you would.

You.
Ceased-to-be, but still are;
near to home, and somehow far;
lost from earth but found by me,
crushed and trampled.
Immobile,
but free.

Here there lies bottle caps and broken glass,
dried chewing gum from persons passed:
Things I would not touch if asked,

and then you.
You-there.
Obliterated.