Feel myself become engulfed by it, and let
It's haunting scream at me.
Besides bruised ears I have only
Indifference for the actions that make up this daily
Facade. Useless
Are all these things... These things
I constantly find myself surrounded by. I'm lying
Through a dry mouth with sore lips, having been
Chapped to a torn up-bleeding-choking mess.
Nothing new or reasonable will come from this.
My body
Aches as though it were swallowed whole by the
Monster that is my reluctant reality; it's stale and
Putrid acids consuming me
From my organs to rotting flesh.
There is no grace, or hesitance about it.
Time rattles about my skull like a loose concept
Released to scatter across the ability to fathom.
It all holds me captive and yet I wander about
In a sort of dizzy-frenzy, obscured by confusion.
I dwell upon freedom, eager to escape the
Strangling hold of darkness, which has
Seemed impossible to surpass.
The world is a very big, very uncertain place that
I'm endlessly finding myself lost in.
I think of how there are so many, yet no
Real ways out.
So here I am... And none of it makes any sense.
The rigid strangeness is something so terribly familiar, and I
Only want to forget existence itself.
Who could predict such a forecast?
One with it's trembling skies shivering with fear,
And winds yearning to escape all the
Pressure in the atmosphere.
Endless agony penetrates my weakened chest, and
All of life clings to it's edges by
Frail fingertips alone.
Yet the skin is wearing thin, and beneath
Blood turns black and sour,
Aching with each year of misery.
This was my fate to experience.
*This is my punishment.

There was an old woman,
Who lived in a shoe;
She ate peas with cumin,
And smelled like shampoo.
She listened to Poison,
And had 7 cats;
She ate berries of boison,
And did acrobats.
She worked at a ***** house,
Made dolls on the side;
She hated to work out,
But loved ham-fried rice.
She had crusty socks,
That she'd hide inside books.
She had hide-a-key rocks,
And rusty fish hooks.
Her only collection
Were lamps with no shades;
Her only rejection
Were moles with no names.
All she ever said
Was the great "cellar door."
And now that she's dead,
The shoe lady's no more.
"what an odd woman,"
I said with a poke.
"she's surely a strange one.
I smoke too much dope."

I lay on your chest and caress your soft skin
Kept pressed against my head.
I smell the scent of your sweet sweat and
Feel the chill of your warm breath on the back of my neck.
I let myself relax and don't ask what's on your mind
Cause I know what's on mine is so, completely different.
So instead of a question I could answer myself
My fingertips lightly trickle across each rib to your hips
While my lips skim your collarbone with a kiss
And then form the silent words
"I love you."
I don't even whisper cause I know you're listening to each breath,
And I bet if I would've said it, you would've left again.
Like when we made love a half hour ago,
You had me panting and pinned to the floor
While we just layed there- connected.
I could feel your heart beat against mine
And the beautiful pulse sent ripples of euphoria throughout
My entire body.
I wanted to tell you then, too, but didn't wanna lose the moment.
I had to blink back hot, stinging tears from flooding my soft, confused eyes because I know
I will lose you. Again.
It's just a matter of time now.
I hold you closer to me, and wanna plead, wanna beg
Please don't leave me! Don't break me again!
Just take me! And keep me until
My heart falls apart in your hands!
Then put the pieces back together, kiss them better, and keep them forever.
I wake up beside you and purr Goodmorning while my mouth
Teases your ear with teeth and tongue.
I call you my baby, like a 9 month old habit
That catches on quick after 3 months of cold turkey.
But it still comes natural to me,
And it seems so easy
To just tell you.
And I wish I could say everything...
But things are different now.

Feeling paranoid, anxious, like I'm always waiting for life to happen;
What's next? I stress
About situations that haven't even happened yet.
Just to test myself I guess, make sure I've
Got some consciousness left, and some breath
From the lungs I bet, and lost a lifetime to.
It's true I do want something new,
But would never discuss it with you.
I've got nothing to prove,
But I'll provide time to choose what you lose.
Blacks and blues of a bruise...
New subject.
The effect is affecting me slowly
But I go steady.
Still unstable but I stammer to be able.
Gracefully gifted at livin' with a death wish.
Crystallized existence just to prove it was nothin'.
But somethin's always always screamin'
At the back of my brain, it's insane,
I can't stop it.
Regardless, I've discovered a process
To keep the clarity a constant,
I got this, it's obvious.
Don't wanna stop, so I'm not gonna drop it.
You can call it whatever you want, but,
I won't answer to conformity.

Surprise-
Here's the demise I've devised
To try to dull light from dead eyes,
Shut those soft lids from the living.
Giving too much thought,
Do not* give in to sin or rot
Now *stop-
Just let it drop.
A pause for cause is needed,
Then proceed it with this
Inconspic'ous twistedness.
Viscous, isn't it?
Just digg it.
Big on burdens baring bulk.
Sulking, rhetorical quotes
Wrote the backbone of society.
Religion became diplomacy.
Greedy ****** to lick the
Tainted tongue of politics
Dripping sickness of wicked
Bigoted Congress picked it.
And its in the air, its
Everywhere, this
Distant dooming disease
Of dream.
**The American dream.

Residing peacefully at the apex of all life's twists and knots of reality lies something fathomable only to the individual will of personal  existence. What could be so completely comprehensible and yet so seemingly incoherent in it's infinite entirety? Well, destiny. The only attempt to understand any of this frivolous madness and chaos is to begin by expanding your mind with the thought that regardless of which path chosen- fate will occur.
So no worries.
Although despite the will (however strong,) of the human brain with all of it's expedential  expandable abilities, one can not always attain and/or preserve a firm grasp on attempting or achieving control. This is indubitably so, when considering the beckoning temptations of life's every day situations- gnawing at the material egos of society like a stranger offering shiny hard candy from the depths of the darkest shadow.
What must be lingering at the backs of our minds? What there lies something so dark and dank and dense that we can only pursue a vast and vague definition for recognition? I can only be swept away by the engulfing wind of nothingness, and dissolve into the abyss of eternity.
Is it graceful- to fade away without resistance or even acknowledgment or consciousness? Or is that just ignorance? The questions can only mingle with the theories, the "facts," the nothingness of everything,  rather than be answered. Because there is no solution to the unknown, and this all is still only ever just a question of existence itself.

...So where do we go from here?

Want to write my thoughts down
In a clever, beautiful way.
Poetry should be graceful.
But creation is not a guarantee.
And it shouldn't be limited to wit and ease.
Who's to say where true beauty lies-
Behind the eyes of a soulmate,
Or maybe just in a forgotten smile on a sad lonely face.
There are just so many words,
And infinite possibilities.
Need to create to keep it real.
Because, who's to say what's real?
How can we even know if anything is ever original?
That's why I have to make art-
Just to prove to at least myself that there IS something
Throughout this void of oblivion that beckons truth.
And that truth- that real art-
That's music.
My music.
I am music.
Everything- if anything exists, is only pure music.
And that's all I can bet on,
When the chips are down.
I will be singing until my last breath ceases.
And music is the only real beauty that can save my soul,
Bring me peace, and
Carry me home.

All I can think of is black.
It's dark in here, and I can't see clearly.
Smoke *****, shoot heroine, drink a 5th of tequila, smoke a dub.
And whatever else enters my path.
Take my mind out of this world.
I love you, baby, love you so much more than anyone before you.
Love, want you, want you more than a ******* flame burning my flesh!
I think about leaving you every day.
Cause it takes two people, to have a relationship.
I want you hard, passionately, violently!
Make you want me. Make your love stay.
Want to leave you, because you didn't even say you missed me.
Want to leave you, cause I can't keep falling in love, while you fall out.
A year and a month later,  10 months of unconditional intimacy,
3 years total.
Now I still explode into a million shattered pieces when your lips of
Heaven tease mine.
Bright, soft, ****, honey lips. Teasing my soul.
And you're bored, you say there's nothing left to talk about.
And it makes me feel like **** to know that my own hands
Would be in my pants before yours would.
Every day,  I think about leaving you.
Every day, think about heroine, *****, herb, tequila, tweak, pills,
Anything! Somebody **** me up with something
Cause I'm too ****** up already, to be considered
Normal.
Want to slit my wrists with every breath I take.
Bleed and scar and be ugly, broken, ****** up, strung out.
Maybe then I could get you to notice, get you to care,
That I just might leave you, baby.
Because you never loved me like an infinite sun.
I want to hold you forever, and you'd rather sleep.
You make me feel more black, than happy.

A vicious attack* of that crackling brainiac anthrax
To give back to society
Slack then just grab the heat,
Feed it to the needy who receive it thankfully.
Call it *poetry.
Who could see repressed punctuality proceeded
By the kick of a hit or three?
Gimme these retrospective variants
To a counterpoint's last stand,
Or voices
Speaking to a lost cost for freedom
That rips at the rotting veins of humanity-
I stood up for what I believed in,
But the world will too crumble when the sun's light dulls dead.
You can call this rambling for something
To take the brain-scraping ache away-
The pain of the mistaken vacant escape.
Who's to say that we're all just thrown here
To die and to try to believe in something that exists,
And if we can't find it then we're lost and wrong and
Guilty.
Leave me barely breathing  if the seeing is now ceasing
To a state of gray monotony,
And melancholy monsters creeping
Out from under the bed where my habits sleep-
And threaten with a scratch, hiss and  screetch
To
Wake
Me
*Up.