why do i always want
the wanton, the wicked?
when my mind wanders
it’s always a bad place

...and the yellow skies
behind her gradient eyes
send me sailing
where gravity's defied
in an upwards sprial
of homelust...

...and Kansas never seemed so beautiful...

Let me taste the smouldering ashes of your regret

I want you to feel me burning this time

Just a whiff just will not cut the mustard this day..

I need to know your sorry but not through your words or your actions

I want it to be sewn to my life ****** so I can show the world how I've been wronged.

I need to stumble this time for real, coughing air too intoxicated to breathe and spit blood I know for certainty could not of been my own.

To paralyse this fear in me and finally have something to call my own




This moment


"I wanted to breathe smoke"

I realize
That not all men
****

That not all men
Beat

That not all men
Brutalize

That not all men
Leave

That not all men
Are destructive

But it's enough men
For me to be scared
Of all men

Flying yellow bag
A blonde queen of afternoons
Joyous mystery

My love is my vice
I'm a wounded animal
Under your brute force

I'm sitting in a cage
With a wide open door.
I'm contained by my own
Will, and all I need to do
Is take a step out.
If I do, I'll see the world 
For what it really is
Rather than my 
Prison-minded hallucination.

I measure my worth,
By what I have accumulated,
Which really isn't much:
A diseased liver,
A book of poetry,
And a broken heart.
I am what I said I was:
Which really isn't much