At our core we may be rotten and unkind.
Unveil ourselves as beggars in the sheets.
Saving our skins and twisting vicious lies.
Greed covered, greased with idle gluttony.
Hearts of marble and minds of back-filled knives.
We ponder the future, and become its prey.
Carve out our skullcaps and set them at ease.
Nevertheless, we hold a miracle.
Despite our brutality, love remains.

The first time I uttered the words, "I want to die,"
I was seven years old, in a ruby red fort.
******* crumbs on my lap, tears crusting my eye.

Later that year my brother passed away.
He left behind nothing but echoes and static.
I hated him. I wished he'd taken my hand on that day.

My home was shattered, but they insist I held joy.
I was unsure of this, so I pondered.
I ignored the cries, buried among my toys.

The first time I made the move to self-harm
I was nine years old, in an empty room.
I smashed and I smashed and I bloodied my arm.

That year I was useless my mother said.
A lazy child, always in her way.
I hold her word's sting more than her hits to my head.

Multitudes of mishaps, I claimed clumsiness.
Scars on my knees, bruises on my belly.
I grew ever fixated on my ugliness.

The first time I wrote a suicide note,
I was sixteen years old, in a classroom.
I told my teacher. "A joke!" he said, or so I quote.

I had a brief pause this year. I met a love.
My marmalade bumblebee, wrapped in warmth.
It confused me. This warmth I knew nothing of.

Merely milk and honey, it must be lies.
I cast it aside, and moved on my way.
A distraction from my scheduled demise.

Later that year, something I have yet to tell.
In the cold night, my body was taken.
I was decimated and banished to hell.

The first time I attempted suicide,
I was nineteen years old, in a garage.
A sleep mask and helium resting at my side.

I knew then that I still wanted to live.
But I was tired, I craved eternal rest.
So, I leapt forward, I gave all I could give.

Of course I failed. My pain was uncovered.
Taken to a stark white room, I waited.
Guided by that bumblebee, we sat and suffered.

The first time I felt myself fall in love
I was twenty years old, in an old car.
With punk rock playing, and your hand in my glove.

Mental illness still riddled my heart and soul.
So I stabbed the love. Abused it. Burned it.
Until it walked away, leaving a hole.

The following years I let myself go numb.
No sorrow, no pain, no joy, and no love.
Wasted away, just dirt under my thumb.

The first time I said, "my future is bright"
I was twenty four years old, in a coffee shop.
Reunited with my most beautiful sight.

This was the year I let myself love in peace.
I grew something beautiful, a home, and a life.
I finally felt my pent up pain's release.

Still I learned, I destroy all that I know.
My family cast to ash, my home ripped at the seams.
Alone again, the demons whisper, and so it goes.

We have reached the end of this broken tale.
I'm afraid I can't speak where to go from here.
I sit here, a mundane man waiting to fail.

What it must mean to softly be in love.
Truthful nothingness lit by candlelight.
How I must wish to hold hope's hand in mine.
We sit, we stew, we stare, and storm along.
Your sympathy, your sorrow, your smile,
all grace the fetid plain of my mind's eye.
I wish you joy, a brighter tomorrow.

Alone I'll sit, alone I'll sing this song.
Alone you'll rest, alone you'll find the dawn.
A goodbye, or perhaps a new hello.

Moments flicker, circles begin and end.
A past's future will let you start again.

Farewell, be free to greet your Severus.
But please, just let me act the Damien.

Salt the blade and lick the wound
my dear brother I'm joining you soon.
May the willows weep down
and look upon the riverbank
as they see the ******* dirt in my cut
as it mixes with mud
and then mixes with blood
Brother, mother, father, dear.
Do you not understand the words
I'm whispering to you here?
As I stand up upon my cross
looking down at you with
a bullet in my brain.

I don't have anything left to do.
There is nothing left to say.

The hours rest wearily on your shoulders.
Wisdom come and gone, soulful glancing blows.
A world captured, a moment filled with breath.
Let your mind erase, let the answers flow.
The ease of sunset will hold tightly to your hand.
The emptiness of the moon will sooth the scars.
A pinprick of a puddle cooling your flesh.
Eyes dulled, grey, mediocrity shining through.
The final uttered words of the ******,

"Let it Be."

If you are reading this, come say hello.
ask about the weather, ask about the day.
A smile, a wave, static-filled ramblings.
A chat over coffee, a smoke for the road.
Just tip your hat, shake my hand, have a seat.
Or don't, and I'll write this, bitter and alone.

I do not live in this world.
I merely
spy it
through the looking glass.

There is a beast baring its fangs at me.
Praying I take just one more step forward
so it may rip me apart, piece by piece.
The warm glow of my lantern highlighting
the glint in its eye, the sheen in its hide.
Without warning it leaps its jaw unhinged.
Fluids pour out, some saliva some blood
and my scattered remains oil the earth.

Within hours the sun is beating down,
and my remnants fester and become grey.
Soon the blood boils brown, dyeing the clay.
My skull smiles at nothing but the sky.
The name of its lost life long forgotten,
as it is buried, entombed by Gaia.
Centuries flash and my remains are ash,
but still, with the confidence of the ******,
I know this ash will still remember you.

The maggot-stained husk of a human nestled on my hand.
Whispered words of worry, and dauntless shades of grey.
And I bellow to the void, "Mother Mary may I be ******!"
and I swear to gods, this bit I remember to this very day
the wind spoke back, with a bitter, pain-soaked reply,
"My child, your time has come, now grow still and die."

I hope they sift my name through the ashes
and remember it as gentle and kind.
I hope to God they crack a wrinkled grin.
For then I too can peacefully decay.

We are always watching little sinner.
Look out your window at the old oak tree.
Do you see that faint goldenrod glimmer?
Embers leaping from the branches in threes.

You see and understand how close we are.
We stand here, waiting to strike from afar.

You will know nothing but paranoia.
As long as you breathe we're comin for ya.

Love dragged me back to the coals.
With a mask of charcoal and blood.
I remember now how the blackbird
sings the song about the dead.

I wish you could hear the words
they'll sing upon my empty grave.
I wish you knew the hollow chorus
to bring my brain back to the pains.

So now I whisper a scream
and ask for just your time.
A moment perhaps, a second.
for in the end it's yours and mine.

Blah blah blah speak to me in your city
when the shot strikes down and you feel ******.

** dee ** can we sing a little praise
for the girl with the pretty poppin braids?

So **** my blood and call me Jesus Christ
or **** my **** up I'm feeling enticed.

Take a shot, pour a shot, self-enticed joy.
Or sit inside your room you sad poor boy.

I lust for love, to call your soul my own,
yet I laugh alone in my dreary home.

Sorry that you suffered in this abyss
when all we needed was a little kiss.

Scarlet pierces through the knit wool sweater.
A harsh contrast against the untouched snow.
The gun comes down, her eyes are cold, yet her
ragged breath betrays fears she will not show.

Blinking, the aether coming into view.
One foot in the grave, I think of my wife.
A blood bubble bursts as if on a cue,
and all I think, "what a wonderful life."

Slowly resurrect the fossilized eyes.
Work in the cold, grey, concrete asylum.
We pass in pairs of twenty and seven.
Stroke the blood, dust the ash, spark up the muse.
The rot runs to the core, no man remains.

Scar tissue and cough syrup numb the brain.
A silken, rope-filled snake bruises the pipe.
Midnight arrives. Mama, can you hear the moon?
The stars pass through, purifying the gloom.
Embrace the tumult, greet the curtain call.

The dust mites settle, the clouds become grey.
We spread our wings, cry out, and fade away.

What do you surmise I spy in your eyes?
An opal? A sapphire shattered sea?
Perhaps a dream, merely nothing at all.
I do not know, I cannot say but still,
I love you at the end of the day.

Love until the catacombs whisper your name.
Your skin turns to ash and memories fade.
Love through the pain of the fire and flame,
as you are stabbed again by its dull blade.
For only then will you see the world's worth.
Then and only then will beauty give birth.

Battered, bruised, abused, and betrayed, you wait.
You ponder, and your patience may wear thin,
but the sun shall rise, and hand you your fate.
Soon my friend, you shall purge your deepest sin.
So, sit by the candlelight, rest your eyes.
I promise you son, true love never dies.

A translucent blue, calmly ebbs my fear.
Released in waves from the mere existence.
Snuffing out the shadows, putting out the flame.
A single, amplified coo destroys the demons
picking at my mind, screaming out my name.
A journey of a million moments starting at one.
As long as your name remains etched in my veins.

I do not fear death, I fear losing life.
I fear the sparkle fading from your eyes.
I will not return to the velvet grey,
I will nurture, and further grow this flame

A smokestack tethered upon my greased brow.
Your hands mangled, twisted, curved into claws.
Ripping and tearing at the dollhouse seams.
A spark in the eye, a leap across time.
Offer a charm, offer your heart or mine.
Or don't, and cast aside this petty rhyme.

Scream my name into the chapel's old walls.
Grow this rosebush, let it bloom forevermore.
Do not hide the whispers, do not hide the blood.
Wear it upon your sleeve, cherish its warmth.
Do not throw the sunbeam into the mud.

Pockets greased with the blood of the displaced.
A rotund belly fed by their lost meals.
His echoed demands for equality
squashed beneath his own shining leather boot.

Sweet little sunshine, carry me to my grave.
I pray to you now, and ask for release.
I beg to you now and ask for some peace.

I wonder when the demons fall from sight.
I wish it idly, and tear at my veins.
There is nothing left but skin and a soul.
All the good has gone and rotted away.

I'm sick of happy endings.
I want to find tomorrow's end.
Erase the cobwebs from my mind,
and let me roll the dice again.

Perhaps a left where once was right
will shine the light across the stain.
A steadfast shot of happiness.
A single puddle in the rain.

Take a look at your life, whisper her name.
Stand at the edge and let the spring's refrain
consume you in its everlasting flame.
Do not fear, there's nothing to lose or gain.

Envelope the ointment within the skin.
As embers smoulder, drifting down the drain,
so too comes the blind man's voice a dull din.
Echoes reverberate leaving a stain.

The twinkle in her eye betrays her bliss.
She loved the ***** and she'll love again.
Your head down you offer a silent kiss.
Something, anything, bridged to share the pain.

In a fantasy
it all remains the same.

Look at the sun rise over the bay.
Watch the blinking hatchling emerge from its egg.
A brother and sister dance in their school play.
Laugh at a toddler wobbly take his first steps.
Think of the puppy as he yips for a kiss.
That moment you felt opening your first Christmas gift.

Give it some time, let this bliss soak through
and then you'll understand how I feel about you.

Move your feet and read the room.
Your time's elapsed, face your doom.
Leap into the tomb
Little *****, your life's collapsed.

I offer you twenty seven moments.
Each day's brick placed idly beside the next.
The clock strikes twelve, and I know it is time.
With each bell's pang, the club draws to my side.
I offer this home one final journey.
At its expiration I shall descend.
That is all my soul has left to offer.
I pray the silver lining finds me well.
Or we find our end on childhood's moon.

A phantom edges to the precipice.
Every forgotten word upon his lips.
A singular scar graces his spirit.
A shade of grey painted across his brow.
The winter wind chills to his bitter bones.
The fog descends upon his stubbled chin.
He takes a breath, and a solemn swan-dive,
until he greets his dearest friend, the ground.
Softly tasting the view from halfway down.

I am a man made up of
beginnings and ends,
flesh and bone,
friends of the dead.

I whisper to my sweet little Valentine,
Miss must I be so maligned?

And so, it goes, it goes, it goes,
until the end of time.

I hear nothing more than the echoes
of when you were mine.

Somewhere in a soft suburban pocket
there lives a pair of sweet, sinless, sisters.
Sheltered from the battered world's whirlwind.
Tucked warmly within their Garden of Eve.
Oh, what a shame. The madman knocks at their door.
Oh, what a shame. The shadows stain their floor.
Burdened by a butchered artist's remains,
He offers a gun and a grin.
He steps across their stoop, invading from within.

They never stood a chance.
They're never gonna last.

Nobody escapes his grease-laced grip.
Nobody suspects the sin of Shin.

The wind shifted the hedge's shadows
over the shattered glass.
An alleyway, sparked by fire's warmth,
a mirage, built up by the rain.

A hermit sat in his house upon a hill.
They watched.
They grew up here.
The flames licked at their toes.
The waves crashed and reflected their pain.
A fence divided them line by line.

They knew then what they wanted to do.
They knew then it was time to go.
They knew then that they must grow up.

Adieu Adieu, I love you too.

And then it was gone.

All that remained were embers and soot.

The world is filled with monsters, men, martyrs,
and everything in-between.
Each occupies a space on the chess board
knowing not what it means.

Each piece holds happily ever after.
Each piece holds a love-filled soul with a grin.
Each piece holds skeletons in their rafters.
Each piece holds an unforgivable sin.

We spend our life idly introspecting.
We cast our net in search of love's warm hand.
We burn bridges, and march on towards Spring.
We search far and wide for peace within the sand.

Poor little pilgrim with your dough-like arms.
May your fetid brain rot within your terms.
I beg of you to find your young solace.
Or kiss the cheek of a God in the streets.
Pledge around this world, around this domain.
March to your merry, melancholy beat.
Oh how I love you, my boy can't you see?
Across all plains we go, just you and me.

I held joy in the outstretched palm of my hand.
Love held aloft amidst the burning flame.
A peaceful sea gave way to tranquility.
I lost the momentary peace amidst the drops of rain.

Prayer for adolescent peacemaking.
Song for moments of smoke and pain.
Destroyed and buried now we rest.
Left for dead, immortal in ash and name alone.

Liars and thieves save skin for your spirit.
Take my hand and cut at the mottled flesh.
Truly I ponder, yet still I fear it.
The ghoulish imprint of his face left fresh,
burnt brightly, a branded torch on your mind.
I’d utter the names, but it’s so unkind.

A murmur and tremble unlock the lips.
Bloodshot, goosebumped, love warbling on through.
I stab and stab and through the cracks I slip,
******* it all I don’t know what to do.
Scorch the earth, salt the sea, begin anew.
Scars be ******, they belong to me and you.

Here nor there good Pip, don't stir the ***.
Just blow your tin whistle, leave it all behind.
No family, no friends, no love, just wealth.
Estella's teasing flame burning in your eyes.
Dashed again, gone with no name or time.

What is life if not a lie?
A beautiful fairy tale?
A sunrise on Winter's day?

I look in the mirror
and a devil looks back,
a stone-faced testament to the dead.

As flame licks the boots
and the noose pulls taut
I end this poem with one final thought

What is life if not a lie?
It is loving, laughing, and waiting to die.

Come now.
Chin up.
Eyes wide.
Stomp on.
Dance boy.
Dance boy.
Dance.
Dance.
Dance.

Resting blindly with smoke staining his teeth,
a white flag stuffed in his jeans' back pocket.
a tongue tied, trapped by the words underneath.
He holds tightly to a rusted locket.

Placing it nestled closely to his chest.
He smiles for life. It's truly his best.
He smiles for love. He shall hold it yet.
He smiles for light. He will not forget.

Walk past with your roses painted purple.
Go on down with your drum and a prayer.
Who cares what they'll probably say or do.
One hundred thousand moments of pain,
and this one darling, this one chose you.

Fire and whispers pour down your spine
as you taste the salt upon your fist.
Mops and boiled milk and crows take you back
Oh my lord what are you going to do?
I suppose you'll know, so go, take your cue.

Do not fear the silence of solitude.
Embrace it as a father his lost son.
Allow it to consume you in its chill.
For better or worse it shall shape your soul.

Thank your stars for each moment spent alone.
Learn to love your mind, and call it your home.
If not it shall destroy you.
You shall be nothing but sin.

Pin the faceless inside the bazaar
with my identity etched by your blood.
Let the world bow beneath the fox-toothed grin
swallow your fears and show pride to the stars
please remove the porcelain mask from the mud
wash it, wear it,  move on from the past's sins.

Allow the citizens to gasp, so awestruck
by the beauty of this strong unity.
Kissing the feet, lepers cured by this strength
The impoverished weeping at their sheer luck.
You show them the potential of humanity
and we are at peace, the joy knows no length

But alas a dream is a dream they say,
so for now in your pocket we remain.

The grass once seemed green, and the sky bled blue,
dreams felt alive as they are wont to do.
A dance in the dark held love in its lap,
Moments tied to joy, a worry-free trap.

And then you had to go and ******* die.
Look me in the eyes, spit on the floor.
Why? What am I even doing this for?
Wait, sit back, listen, let me clarify.
*******.

**** this gut-wrenched demon molding my mind.
**** the dull ache finding home in my chest.
**** our night-time chats that made me go blind.
**** that you're gone, I don't care if it's best.

I'll love you til death, and life in-between,
and yet you'll never know what these words mean.

Who do you think the tourniquet twists?
Perhaps a stranger is within out midst.
A sign points upwards, a god points down.
Mirrors aligned. the angels now frown.

Far away the devil sits in his sorrow.
Leaves his kingdom, waits for tomorrow.
Ashes and murk rest at his feet.
For the ends to the ends must meet.

I still
wear your
spirit
around
my neck

A crow bathed in sunlight sings once again.
Silent attempts at capturing the light.
Grazed against nature, a sorrowful sight.
A desolate life, enriched now and then.
Nevertheless, it spurs the poet's pen.
The embers smolder, the crow lost the fight.
With a stifled guffaw, his bones take flight,
leaving nothing but monsters among men.

As ink pours down the cracks of ice-filled veins.
As Gods embrace devils, and we make three.
Perhaps in this moment the crow grows free.
Perhaps in this moment we find our way.
A glint of hope, an escape from the pain.
Alas alas, we live another day.

I taste an afterthought of blue.
Melancholy wrapped in my tongue.
I want to slide into the river.
Someday I'll find the house on the hill.
Until then I shall scratch.

Mercy John peep into the collard green.
Dance until your bones' souls shiver and ache.
Murmer to mother with your possum's grin.
Allow the summer scents to bless your praise.