Breathe in the solitary fumes
of a million generations.
Man shall strike them down,
breaking into war spells our doom.

Even the animals
verify this existence.
Earth is just the husk
rejected by our sins.
Yet we continue down
Onward into our spiral,
neither here nor there we
even hate our mothers.

For now they perch on my doorstep
with tear filled vigor and remorse
pleading,  little earth worms looking
on in my eyes trying to force
their seed in my heart... demireps
and lechers crying in their ash.

A monk's resolute howls draw near.
I close my shutters to the wind.
An infantile pitter patter
brings resolution to my pane.
I look out upon the tattered
remains of man; I soon realize
it is not them, but I who's sinned

She tastes like the sun
that our bitter lives made.

And perhaps this truth
is why we can't be saved.

For the starlit girl
speaks against our false truths.

Not so innocent,
yet full of passion's youth.

The lunar eclipse
is not enough for her.

We are the disease.
And she? She is the cure.

I felt the warmth caress my cheek like
the light of heaven radiating down
on me. Looking up I saw my mother,
with eyes blue, and a dress smudged by her youth.
Laughter and love streaked down my face and it
could be said this moment was infinite
in all of its grandeur. But we knew of
this falsehood, for god left for the stars and
you were my angel, but the men took you
too. They marched in; their tin guns rattling
to a tune I didn't know. The storm grew
on until finally, I looked and saw
mother taken into its gaping maw.
My limp retreat, hastened by the need to
escape the reality laid before
me.
As the sad scurried escape continued,
I felt my most intimate seams begin
to tear. The contents of my creator spilling
onto the cold ground. Those tin toy soldiers
surrounded me, and I realized something.
“A ragdoll can't flee”
With an air of vengeance, I took their bait;
biting down on the cursed fruit bestowed
to me by our nonexistent savior.
With a smile I split my seam and screamed out
to all the fallen toys, and fallen joys.
“Hush now men, mother, and me this is life;
this is love, and can't you see what it doe-”
My thought grew dark as a cold tin soldier
finished the job, and I joined my mother
within the ash.
I felt the warmth caress my cheek like
the light of heaven radiating down
on me. Looking up I saw my mother,
with eyes blue, and a dress smudged by her youth.
Laughter and love streaked down my face and it
could be said this moment was infinite
in all of its grandeur. But we knew of
this falsehood, for god left for the stars and
you were my angel, but the men took you
too. They marched in; their tin guns rattling
to a tune I didn't know. The storm grew
on until finally, I looked and saw
mother taken into its gaping maw.
My limp retreat, hastened by the need to
escape the reality laid before
me.
As the sad scurried escape continued,
I felt my most intimate seams begin
to tear. The contents of my creator spilling
onto the cold ground. Those tin toy soldiers
surrounded me, and I realized something.
“A ragdoll can't flee”
With an air of vengeance, I took their bait;
biting down on the cursed fruit bestowed
to me by our nonexistent savior.
With a smile I split my seam and screamed out
to all the fallen toys, and fallen joys.
“Hush now men, mother, and me this is life;
this is love, and can't you see what it doe-”
My thought grew dark as a cold tin soldier
finished the job, and I joined my mother
within the ash.

Once upon a time
it was we not I.
Love spelt out in rhyme,
and then it did die.

You love him, not me
and that's okay you
ignore my heart's plea
I bid life adieu.

This benevolence
is penultimate
is my dependence
of the intimate

This poem is done
as you are with me
life has no more fun
now I'll leave you be.

That rag doll looked up and smiled,
freshly unwrapped
with button eyes shining;
mother looked down on her and said:
"The noise is nothing, rest your head and sleep now child."

As night fell  toy soldiers  stumbled in with glee,
they tossed the poor doll  to the side,
torn by her threads.
A doll can't flee.

The sun grew high,
her tattered dress snared,
and the poor doll bumped her  head.
She cried and whaled to the stars, but none of them cared.

knotted, and worn,
her yarn hair grew wild
The doll sought nothing more than bread,
but spoiled fruit was all the tin men held.

Used up, the ragdoll fell into the fire.
her buttons dust, and mother dead
lost in a sea of the liars.

So maybe I do care
about the porcelain
stains in your stupid hair.

The father told the son
and the son his young child
and the river flowed on.

Sinners stole the saint's soul,
and you continued down
your abusive love's hole.