I'm buying time with this plastic wallet.

Put it over my head and whip me around.
**** the low murmur **** the sound.

Take me to the bathroom, tug and pull.
Cut my head off - don't catch a mouth full.

Don't sneak a peak. You're good.
Lumber by swing, cut by wood.

Madness descending- you are real?
Continue to cut continue to peel.

The stench that lifts me off my feet,
****, lining the underneath of finger nails-
a firm handshake with a suit.

Paints my palm black,
I go finger painting on my keyboard.
Stupid remarks, a buzz in my ear.

I breath in the dust of coffee,
fill my lungs with communal light,
bring my face to the back of my skull.

Addicts fill up the floor space.
Aroused to keep by their merits,
they holy few who look only down.

Paint me.
Leave your somber wooden floor.
Move to the chaos.
Paint me.

Meet the trees,
erected in the concrete.
Go mad, grow stupid.
Compare. Compare. Compare.

Hide from the outdoors.
Compare.
Paint the trash.
Slick blacks and browns.

Rats, tweakers, and mud.
Become.
Compare.
Paint me.

Secrets… caught in the attic.
Over our heads, we dread.
Eating the wood crumbs. So somber. So well-done.
Ghost overhead. Munching on our beds.
Help. Hopeless. Dreading the whale. Over and compass.
Threatened by heat-like scales. Cutting us open.
Upon what end. Is this the end? I hope this is. I hope.

This isn't what any of us wanted

There were no bodies tonight
There was only fog
Such a deep and ugly fog
Suffocating what little chance we had

With fists full of wheat pipes
we jump on a whim.
We'll shower the gardens with
gallons of sins.
We wear a posthuman poison
like a three-piece suite.
The love of this generation
is an empty truth.

To the being - lost with love.
Bring him some - a healthy dove.
The aching time - I'm lost too.
The arching rhymes - the hopeful few.
Where's my love? Is she born?
I'll crawl through the creek and storm.
To make a wish - rushed but true.
Lead us towards something new.

I came to, I think I came to.
I'm out of my shell. I'm feeling government new.
I found peace. In this warful place.
The sirens and massacres hold about my face.
I found me. In a crowded bar. Choking on *****, starring at the stars.

I ******* miss you. Our time is closing.
Please be careful - your confidence is showing. You look like a mess.
With your hair undone.
I look at you and don't know what I've become

I never saw your text.
It must've sent when I was drawn away.
Isabella, would you ever leave me?
If you did, could we lock eyes.

You would only be kind - like you always have.
Like you always will be, right?
To leave only when love is chipped away.
For nothing is eternal but the confidence of the temporary.

Now I stand stupid in this place.
Cooking under the sun with an empty tray in my hand...
this is not your shadow next to me.
The concrete burns without you by my side.

Where did my love turn? Did it flow out of my chest when I first drew blood? Did the angels break their faces to turn away? Has God banished me? For I have never felt so alone. In the observation of another I would never fall to my knees, but these scars holds me to dust. Is this how dust thinks?

Nothing feels real when you are trapped in the same empty room everyday. Life repeats without an audience to prey on your content. So why do you still put on a show?

The test of our hearts is when we lay on the floor.
Naked and deprived of who we are.

May blanked love hold us in it's cotton hands.
To learn to love - to learn to stand.

If you could compare misconceptions, how would you? What would be the commonality of confusion you could you offer? Is it individual? A hearty abyss of inconsequential details separating the changer from the changed -  the manipulator and the dirt. Explainability leaves gaps that we will not bridge.

We explode into a cloud of blood.
A meaty burst of flame and flesh.

You should offer to drive for this road trip.
I need to stare out the window and disappear.

Just for a little while.
Then we can switch.

Bless his heart.
Who's next?
Please, God, give all of us time.
Why are you so cruel?
Where is the reason?
He was a 17-year-old boy.
The salt was meant to melt the ice
and now it soaks a boy's blood.
A tragedy.

Rest in peace young boy.
'We have to do better'

in the wake of this moment
we hold our dry faces with hands

in the wake of this moment
we hold to be better brands

in the wake of our seclusion
we grasp to what we know is true

in the wake of our seclusion
we gasp for a holy few

in the wake of our improvement
we prove to be sink further to delusion

in the wake of our improvement
we prove to find some solution

in the wake of this written glass
we see a cloud beyond the horizon

in the wake of this written glass
we hear the final siren

May technology lift us to Elijah, to accelerate us faster into the ground -  irises bleached with pictures of the screen.

As I float through my chair's arm.
A hug goes through my spine.
My knees hit the floor but only to climb.
I sink through the floor, seeping through
the cracks in the wood.
Feet thunder to my locked door.
While my laptop waits for me.
You will never feel my warm hands again,
pressed against your keys.
You and I lay silent.

In the blink of an eye.
What's forgotten tomorrow-
will not warm this winter air.

And files and taillights.
Bring in an order,
but that's not why we're here.

To cause and to carpet-
this brown leather loophole.
That's filling despair.

A whip brings of an old-
oiled animal nature.
Spread enough to comb hair.

I remember this street...
It's odd to admit but I have never gripped a wheel here before.
No, in the past I was humbled to my feet.

The street is quiet, hushed by the glimmering snow, with as many sparks as a rural sky.
On the corner lays a New England style home, with lit windows - shining in the snow like a Christmas tree.

That house is where I learned of death, where a little boy once lived. His smile was vulnerable and honest - he was unafraid to show his imperfect teeth.

He was destined to bring joy to the earth. And in the short time he had, he proved to be a prodigy of kindness.
Now he lays in a casket - embalmed and as cold as the snow resting against his old window.

Why am I here when little boys with proud smiles are so far gone? I wish we could exchange chance under the street light my old friend. I wish I could  hear you again.

So, the secrets they say.
Are over the pit and under the clay.
Written, in some cryptic mist.
Never to hold and always to miss.
And if - the data it creeps.
Between the cracks we'll be here to keep.
The servers, away from thin ice.
So we can share our own demise.

Look at the way the lights shimmer,
phasing in and out of reality.

I see you my small friends-
keep your dance humble and bright.

God is broken, on our side.
We scream prayers to heaven
But they don't arrive.

And I've gotten so sick -
of complaining.
The fence is the trick.
It's mandating.

How we can ask to die.
Now life is just a picture-
to share with an ally.

Stay away from that shine.
It cries for you.
To wrap yourself around her.
Weep away from that counter.

Corrupt the overhead.
He sings too loud.
Humble his throat.
Bring him down.

See to it, my dying song be played.
Teeming through treetops the birds made.
Rest all of Saturday, for Sunday has fate.
I’m hoping for some time gaining mistake.

Straight down the river, dogs-
bark out their owner's logs.
Our friends need to some meat.

Leather wet from its streams.
I wonder what this river dreams.
Does its aspirations still beat?

Shuttered are the street lights-
which hold our welfare.
Stalking the night time-
shadows dread their low glare.

The moon loathes their shining-
which leak puddles of light
onto the cold and dark street.
That keeps away the night.

Fidelity rest upon my shoulders
   Pushing my heels into the dirt.

Piety is but a word to your claim
   That covers oceans in cursive.

Feeble can take to you, their life
    For your mouth is the end all.

Tongues kiss like worms in flesh
    Who morph the gaps of teeth.
  
Raise all again, you sweet dove
     I sit at your will to find virtue.

As lightly as a newborn fawn takes its first steps - my hands will hold your face. With the faithfulness of a rosary - may I close my eyes to you.  To lean my head against your own. Let our minds marry and dream in one.

Deeper into cold-
orange leaves fall like snowflakes.
Chilled with destined fear.

Slit deep in the archway-
a phantom hollers.
For random keepsakes-
of tandem scholars.

One governs the Onset-
the second, the Coda.
A reckon to two takes-
pass a beckoned nova.

Madness sidles a soul-
to the coast of resent.
Where boast finds shapes-
the most unbent.

Echoes calling for Coda-
to warn of her face.
Which mourns the meek-
and thorns her grace.

To wonder of knuckles-
that fill ****** fist.
She kills those who seek-
to spill into mist.

No bed sheet drapes clean-
now lost to the few.
Who loft in their weak-
soft cradling queue.

Every onset must close-
while time is stone.
A climb without crest-
is rhyme laid alone.

Inferno marked through eyes-
the onset bows to hate.
And sweat, drowning vessels-
wet with ruined fate.

Shining on to such nothing-
the cheap martyr goes.  
Now sleeping with devils-
keeping their clothes.

Damp with foul meaning-
Onset and Coda are few.
Left in debt to the meddle-
that beset their old view.

Error to their contribution-
their cries created none.
With eyes full of remorse-
time flies again in one.

An end is our greatest desire-
so to begin is our fear.
Our kin kills the same horse-
that we shrill to spear.

Deep in the portal of question-
there dwells a stuttered pain.
That yells to complete the course-
so to knell once again.

Sighs from the outliers, where they sit on rims. Drowning in tin cans - they beg for a swim. Off of bottles, berths, and burdens; so, few.  The campfire brings warmth - an ember-ed view. They wish to wash off their past, so unclean. To dry with their fellows is all they dream. The fire cries cinders that fall like petals. While gazers awe, watching flames settle.

Death is in the realm of the simple
It can be belittled to a motion o’ so little
Its nature is bland
It concedes to a hand
Even a sane man can hold a pistol

Eyes, however, tell a different tale
When instructed to look past the crooked veil
Where can I stare
Where is the prayer
Of the monster that sleeps so frail

Pardon me if I speak in this form
But I can no longer live on this conform
My head lives in rumbles
My voice speaks in mumbles
Where can we sail from this calm storm

I feel like a beast when I speak
My eyes jitter and my mouth creaks
I would die to be sane
I would live to be vain
Why do the words in my teeth leak

My stutter sets flames engulfing my face
And I shatter relationships with such grace
A monster in his own accord
A monster left often ignored
I have felt my own lonesome place

If the dirtied moment was around
You would scream colored sounds
Driven from the under belly
Of the human lung so heavy
It could carve the leather from the couch
Would your tongue betray your mouth
Up against the ceiling tiles
The spine morphs its straight files
I feel so far from your cemented feet
Crystalize your costal heat
Brave is not your name
Passion bears not your pain

Firm on the hands of the God's man
Bleeding through responsibilities and dinner plans

Think firm on your own charm
Think to philosophize your own arms

Look in the glass and hate yourself
Heal, then offer your lonesome help

A sage reflects his own heart
And picks and tears it apart

To criticize the fair is to release pain
For, the criticizer only has all to gain

Curiosity arises on me whilst in my slumber-
Begging for death - bland, little, and somber.
For what wine quenches in the finis?
Life contracts death as death to the mother.

Is the ship rested upon the seabed departed?
Lost and addled the skeletoned sailors uncharted?
Oh! Their diaries fail to notion-
Of a cataclysm that waves adapted to fainthearted.

For what our mirrors surrender
Is that which our ideals birth

Leaving for the colder time
the poet's friend begins to climb-
that staircase of reform.

But in the creek the poet thinks
when did our time begin to shrink-
o our bond is now deformed.

Age in it's wicked heart-
tipped and teared us apart.
I never took you as a ghost.

In youth I would always say,
"Can't wait to grow and move away",
never should've left the coast.

I miss you my old friend.
I know it's been awhile since then,
I ensure you my love is home.

But we will never be same again,
we will be away my friend,
drift apart you talented beast, may you roam.

Taunt my precious ways with visions
Propose a chance of euphoria
End or fix this heartbreak
This mind ache o' mine

Chirp a sweet old song
on a white porch
decorated with nature
A breath of purity

Forget all I did wrong
And I'll forget soon
Apologizes all mailed
in letters by noon

No one knows peace
except the wrong
And the wronged know
only sad songs

A barrel filled with eyes carries one hope.
A rather gruesome and unpleasant hope,
that feast upon the living and the live.
For the barrel hopes of death.

The death of love, life, and everything in between.
The barrel asks for life, no matter rancid or clean.
Ringing on heavens portal there is no consideration.
For love is not its first mutilation.

Whispers of laughter fill the emptiness,
pitter patters of throats distract voids.
Rain-filled calms pour until they are gone-
as an echoed call traveling beyond.

Oh acceptance. What a pure sound
that lays forever in good,
withholding kindness behind cabinet doors
and pleases the beast within.

Hanging over a wood shed-
You explained it all.

The shot the finish-
The silence and the call.

A tongue of truth-
An orchestra of teeth.

A surface of symbols-
With answers beneath.

You built us a Kingdom-
Founded upon woes.

To know we are here-
And to be here to know.

You are magic, you are fine-
Blessed be your spoken flowers.

I'd share your honest throne-
And be the prince of nothing that matters.