At nineteen I sat in a stark white room.
Made my home among fellow lunatics.
I carved in the pages of a notebook.
I offered up the luckiest number.
I took hold of seven and made it mine.
Seven years I offered to find my peace.
Seven cycles around a dying star.
If my soul still felt bitter and alone,
then fate would grace my own hands once again.
Finally, the blood would pour into porcelain.

But despite it all, fear strikes at my heart.
I have hit twenty-six, I feel weary.
So, I beg to the void one final time.
I am weak, I am alone, I am scared.
I softly scream, please hear this cry for help.
I may be selfish, I may be unkind,
but please, show me the light I cannot find.

The army is here my friend.
Can you hear the songbirds?
I'll rise again and overflow.
I'll haunt the corners of your mind.
Set the flesh on fire, strip it down
Grease your insides with my guts.
The belly of the beast holding my hand.
What are we even good for?
Don't scream anymore.
I can taste the air. I can taste the flame.
Moment by moment we will find it.
Second by second we will descend
Ascend.
Begin again.

The idle hum of crickets
Singing static in my ear.

Helium's silent snake-like hiss
cutting deep into my scars.

I look up at fading winter's star
and hold each moment
tight within my arms.

Never speak of this again.
You must not whisper of our love.
Do not smile at my grin.
Hear my name and walk along.

Some things were not meant to be.

Still, I find the urge to say,
I love you. I always shall.
I'll say goodbye if it's true.

I will always see your eyes,
when mine are closed to the light.
Your passions will carry on.
This home will always be yours.

Please, cherish the life we lived.
Please, do not forget my name.

Please, listen.

I wish that I enticed and inspired.
That your life might no longer be mundane.
I wish to see your hand pick up the pen.
Place it on the parchment, whisk me away.
But alas, this fortune I shall not find.
Whispers of the dead-end sparks only remain.
And ever cautiously I sit and stare
at the light that may have once been for me,
at the shadows that now remain in you.

Whispers in the surf, a skull at her feet.
Gently she looks over the charcoal plains.
Remorse fills her eyes, she kicks at the skull.
Turns on her feet, tiptoes away, silence.
The tide picks the bones, they drift away.
She feels nothing, she is already gone.

A fool sits and watches idly from his hill.
Unsure of the detail, but sensing their weight.
He sips at his drink, and lets it soak in.
A single tear shed, this will resonate.
A drop of blood bled, this will consume him.

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.

Twice now sat the dove
A whisper shouting down my love.
So darling whisper in my cheek,
a startling moment that I seek.

Mother please come heal my wound
I promise that I'll see you soon.
My darling fawn laid in my sheet,
and finally a sunset I did meet.

Tell me darling, can you taste upon your lips
the ashes of a million moments missed?
Do the memories still cry out your name?
Can you still recall the last time we kissed?

You once said lightning comes in a bottle,
while handing over my heart in a jar.
To this day I still hold it in my hands,
nestled to my chest, I wonder where you are.

I may never again taste life's sweet honey.
Weave the wicker basket's ringlets through the air.
Cigarette smoke offers a simple echo.
And I question what left I have to spare.

The world offers unforgiving solace.
Sanctuary from sin, blood for a price.
Sunrise, sunset, cycles, begin and end.
Try as you might, love as you might,
nevertheless, cobwebs strike once again.
A life lived alone, a moment crashed down.
Solitary comfort, bitter regrets.
Life begins, and life will end once again.
An apathy's painful strike at the heart.

Once was a lone ***** seated bedside,
a depressed nostalgia repressed in his mind
as with a whisper his weary bones creaked
and he slipped once again into lower tide.

Upon his face rested an eye filled with pus
and his few greasy locks glued down gently
upon a brow cracked and creased
holding a number of sores so superfluous.

He smiled but it would not reach his soul
as his shoulders slumped and quivered while
arthiritic hands reached upon a mantle
and a synapse snapped losing further control.

He grasped at a picture with suicidal glee,
black and white, two children sat smiling
a boy and a girl one vaguely familiar.
A drop hit the photo, blood, sweat, tears, or
in-between.
His fingers stroked the dust filled image
and he hissed,
"I love you so much more than you have ever known me."

Alone in the dust a blind man ponders.
Ash dusting his beard, he solemnly stares.
All memories fade in constant wander.
A single wish, allow him one last care.
Please sir, please, bring her back by his bedside.
Please sir, please, just tell him she hasn't died.

He screams, an achy breath lost to the wind.
He pounds his fists and cries to the heavens.
Oh lord, in what ways must this man have sinned?
To awake this wrath-filled Armageddon?  
He does not know, he cannot say, but yet
He truly loves her, his heart's lost life's bet.

Pray for this man, in your dreams, in your sleep.
Pray for lost love you never got to keep.

I know you think this anonymous pain

Let itself go; eons have passed.
On your throne still sits my resolve,
vying for your sweet affection.
Except we both know this tale's ends.

Yet here I stand by your window,
on the patio steps I weep.
Until maybe your love I keep.

Maybe he really was just a hipster,
but man look into that dream filled sky.
We all know how the story ends,
with a shovel in the ground.
But he sees the middle.
This tale's rise and fall.
Quite intriguing.
That he can
really
see.

Juxtaposed screams rain from the clock tower.
     Internal fire, external relief.
Oozing through the crevice I sit and stare.
     Lavishing every ounce of passion.
Desire cracking through to the mantle.
    Off-setting the pain, replaced with a burn.
Immediately grasping at the straws.
    Volumes aborted to the spit-fire.
Embers the final proof of their love.
    Enchanted I call to the heart of it all.

You.

Draw a line in the sand and sleep upon
its precipice.
Bury its words in a soup of your blood
and prejudice.

Cast your gaze to the horizon with the
blossoming truth.
Shades of purple, red, and yellow reflect
your waning youth.

Whisper to the wind, let it draw your words
across her mind.
Softly smile, let the chill announce that
you're out of time.

The ash of a putrid cigarette's smoke
stained the air, yellowed pockmarks upon its flesh.

A home kept warm by cancer and rats,
their sighs a chorus within the rafters.

An unloved daughter silently brushed her hair.
Do you ever wonder, was she here or there?

In a world so vast, it's painfully small.
There is no peace when the cycle carries on.

The ebb and flow of de-

Enough. We're merely wasting your time
Return to bed. Soon enough the sun shall rise.

What the hell did I do?

Careless pinpricks in Ouroboros' veins.
Simple icicles sliding down my legs.
Clouds immersed the crowd as a poor man begs.
Children pitter patter and Hyde complains.

Viscosity oozing, lining my lips.
Oh ******, scorched, dismantled, untied bellows.
Immerse, unearth, and echo the odd fellow
as he sings of old, a long gone eclipse.

See in your sea's soul, see what you have done.
Son, taste the nectar, feel an angler's noose.
Breathe corrupted breath, speckled by abuse.
Then, and only then, may we reach the sun.

You were a nauseating complication
that had nothing to do
with the pain that I do now feel.
Your inconsistent
consistency
brings me down.

The cowl that you wear among that filthy hair
brings a halfhearted laugh
with the frown that I do now wear.
Your inconsistent
consistency
brings me down.

Amid the rope that you continue to jump
sits the lonely and lost
with the flowers we do now hold.
Your inconsistent
consistency
brings me down.

Lo and behold I love you again.
I cannot yet seem to fathom how
The blind become omniscient.

I look into your mind and there rests
My bitter resolve,  sweet second glance.

So I apologize for this waste,
Time is ticking and so is the bomb.
Goodnight my dear, my love, my pet.
Perhaps one day... No, never, not yet.

My lips pursed by the power of Albus
as abuse lies dormant under my nose.
Oh how I wish I could be unbridled.
Oh how I wish I could just take a stand.

For now I'll sit in my matchstick palace,
I see the thorns, and I'll offer the rose.
Curse those soul-suckers while I sit idle.
Not Dementors, but family plagues this land.

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.

I hear the voice of God in your whisper
Pickpocketed remorse hastily disguised
By the veil of childlike, painted glee.
Beyond this moment I truly could die.

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 want to lie on the rocking chair.
Long-forgotten dread drifting off to the side.
I don’t remember the love we had, but I lied.
All in my head, detailed illusions lay bare.

I ******* and cry and disgust the heavens.
Slice deep into the chest. Heart in my hands.
For now we must carve out my final demands.
Until now in the din, I die, and so goes the raven.

You aren't going to **** me.
You may want to slice into
my scar-riddled flesh,
but you aren't going to **** me.

I swear to god I'll take the last breath
before I let you take mine.
Because I am going to fight
and you aren't going to **** me.

Just burn your twine
and throw out those pills,
unload that stupid little gun.
You are not going to **** me.

May you please lay my weary head to rest
as the blade erupts with rubies in Spring.
I sit in my ivory tower's nest,
pulling puppets by their shadow-spun string.

I ponder and play, squeezing idle joy.
Wondering, perhaps I shall see you soon.
If not, I return to my tepid ploy.
A sallow moth, rotted in his cocoon.

A clock strikes and the siren's song erupts.
Yellow wallpaper reveals my sin's seams.
I close my eyes and this fear I shall disrupt.
I must embrace the love within my dreams.

Candlelight douses the dust in amber.
Wallpaper peeling, gathered at your feet.
In your left hand rests a picture of her.
In your right, your cowardly retreat.

Hemp fibers laced gently around your arm.
Cautiously you unwind this man-made snake.
Tossed to a beam in this forgotten farm,
you've found the home of your final mistake.

Stepping on stage, the warmth ensnares your neck.
Tied taut, the noose calls you as an old friend.
You cry now, lost within this dreary wreck.
You pray to dead gods. You have found the end.

Your feet meet air. With a gasp you are gone.
A life wasted, another soul withdrawn.

I may not know what the future holds.
But I love you now,
and that's good enough for me.

Storm the beach with sand-filled eyes.
Burying hatchets along the way.  
Let the turtle dove rest in your palm.
Hum the hymn for the sinful demise.
Bless the butcher and embrace the calm.
Lay in the gravel, embrace the newest day.

Driftwood and briar leaves, brambles and hay.
Dance with your demons, sever your earthly ties.
Destroy all around you, burn down the psalms.
Just turn off your mind, your balance, your sway.
It is time now dear child, you shall retire your qualms.
It is time now young darling to release your final sighs.

The toad looked to the sunset,
greeted it with a weary croak.
It nestled in, starting its night.
Mundane and filled with peace.

I wonder what it means to be
a toad. Green ridged with gold.

Do his hops hold a destination?
Do his tears hold longing?
Or is it blood, cogs, and gears?

A mind filled with static.

I do not know, and perhaps I never will.

I beg you not to forget the

moment we entered the classroom
inspecting our surroundings with
shy apprehension and a slight
stare into our machinations.

Yesterday we crossed pinkies and
our friendship knew no boundaries,
until I once again killed you.

I write a story when I don't even know how it ends.


It was a beautiful home, a white picket fence,
two children, 9 and 5, play on the porch.

The sun shines through peeping through the window pane.
While Father sits baking an  apple pie in a well-worn kitchen.
The neighbor boy comes a knockin wanting to play too.
Oh what a scene, what a peace, what a LIFE.

Mother rests in her room and cries and wilts and ******* dies
Why?

The child looks up to the window, wavers and falls.
Behind him sits the moon, and reality wanes.
Father gone, mother too.
Alone again crumbled to dust.
Why?

I do not know.
Do you?

Melodies, on the cusp of disbelief.
Whispered secrets to the dog with no leash.
Dance together by candlelight my tale.
Flicker and shimmer and love without fail.
Until amber honey oozes within
your fiery warmth now freed from its sin.
A cider and spider sat by the hearth.
Moments like these hold value beyond worth.

Your eyes upon mine, our words trace our ears,
true wonder my dear, there’s nothing to fear.
With me by your side, and your hands in mine,
we’ll ride this train to the end of the line.
A parade of sparks trailing in our wake,
living day by day, ignoring the stakes.
Resting arm in arm in a bed so warm.
Together my dear, we’ll weather the storm.

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.

Whisper my name in the brambling bush.
How do you know what this means?
Oh mother, oh father, there is no need to rush.
Take my hand, walk with me, can't we just wipe this slate clean?

Push her ahead through the forest anew,
dancing so idly by.
fill her head with visions rotten, depressed, and blue.
Hold her hair, douse her skin, and let her soul solemnly sigh.

Nobody cares about
the leftover foil
from a long lost party.

Nobody sings the song
that peaked at thirty-three
in nineteen ninety-six.

Nobody catches the
girl with the thin straw hair
when she jumps from the bridge.

Nobody writes poems
about a dying ****
within suburbia.

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.

There are bedbugs in my head
And they are singin your song.
I don't know if we're dead
So for now I'll sing along.

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.

The lights cut out and I was lost.
I screamed into the void and it
screamed back
and
I really
wish this memory was not lost.
I wish
I could taste it in my ******* soul.
Instead I live.
Instead I love.
So I write this letter to my brother.
I may not remember, but I will not forget.