A colorful, impressive, innocent life,
Sprawled out on a glitzy boulevard.
Those eyes are yelling for acceptance.
Those eyes are asking for attention.
White and black; blue mixed in as well.
A child´s strength simply isn't there.
That's what a family is for
Here, have some of mine.

That's love
(Or something like it).

Blurry stacks filled with lively smoke seeps out of the gray sky.
Reminders of death and love are stuck to the walls.
Its stench is depressing.
Its mark is repulsive.
Even so, there is a ******* hurt within these walls.
Sadness rains from the silver sky, but so does hope.
Each death is comforted by love ones.
For every goodbye, there is a hello.
The reaper believes it to be fair.
It leaves me feeling scared.

I sit here in this hospital chair,
Waiting for my time to rest.
Eventually I'll get there with a smile on my face,
My loved ones will be there, and finally, I'll rest.

The mad man
Mixed
With gin becomes
A praying man.
A dark man tied
Down to the awful
Stench of boredom,
Tired of playing
With others he has
No choice: he becomes
Death.
Transfixed and alone;
Come play with him.
Oh god and devils
Sidekick; stop it.
I asked what words
could not truly
Express. Is he dead?
Alive?
Or is he in the purgatory
Of his mistakes?
Listen to his voice
And ignore it.

He cried when the
Moon ran away.

The time of the world;
The time to formulate
Emotions is dead.

It's always been dead.
He's always been dead.
July was a mistake for him.

Everything speaks through the silence,
Like family heirlooms
Or
Picture frames of a time
Belonging to your past.

Listen.
Through the nothingness of it.

It is the sound of the tides slamming inside of your head.

Say this or look at that or avoid this.
Your head is polluted.
It is years of humanity delicately turning your heart into stone.
It has become an immortal God, flawed in all its beauty;
In all its silence.
In all its truth.

Feed me your revolting hate.
Please strike me down once more.
I love how you leave me drained,
leaving me,
feeling like a *****.

A victim has never said these words.
Ever.
The victim is never the one doing the attacking.
****.
They are God's mistakes and the devils
rejects.

I can't get your eyes off my skin.
It's my new tattoo; your tongue.
I can't escape from my best sins.
Your skin is my new warden.
Yes, ma'am
No, ma'am.

I had thought these days
Were over now.
I buries you under my coffin,
In the Arizona night.

No.

These days of love are back;
I'm dying all over again.
Holy hell.
I'm dying I'm all over again.

Now, now, child; the stars will
Take care of you.

There is a monster trapped inside my head.
Oh how it seeps deep within my inner monologue.
I swear it's the darkest voice inside my head.
It protects me from the things I've left unsaid.

She is engraved in my spine,
I'm unable to walk.
She is stuck in my throat,
I'm unable to talk.

But I can write
Type,
Put words together.
Structure my ideas.

I wish I didn't.

If I live my life second
By ****
Second,
Day by **** day,
I will die.
If I had you though,
Those seconds wouldn't  
Be enough.
Those days would
Not be
******.

There was a subtle, but yet aggressive tone,
In her voice.
This woman wanted to run away
And up into the stars.
She wanted simpleness to sweep through her veins.
That's the life blood she needed.
You can't have life without cracking
A few eggs;
Without dying a few times, in this, our only escape from death.
Life.
Life itself is the escape she longed for.
The type of life in which it's OK to lie and die, every morning, and smile over it.
Lie to herself and to her
Universe inside her head.
Oh how it rest there, subtle, yet eerily aware of it all.

The invisible sounds behind the door are reminders.
It is an unattainable respite from a future that is tied to past scars.
Listen to the waves crash behind those sedimentary bolder;
the black algae rest on damaged secrets.

Inconclusive results of a test failed many times before.
You could rest once; lay dead from this sharp,
crimson chance.
Let there be sand on my tongue, trinkets of a banned romance.
Your naked body is all that I remember, a crime committed.

Look at the moonlight, with its selfish, confusing rays.
One could see much, or nothing at all, from the miracle in the sky.
Do not ****** me with reminders of what I already know.
I labored in my fruits and rotted away with the maggots.

Pity, shifting, hateful rage!
Let go of something I cannot physically kiss.
Those suns you call eyes have left me,
Foaming behind enemy lines.

A square peg in a rusty, circled hole:
That's my tongue sliding down your throat.
Those wishful words are stuck,
Hoping, like you,
To not go unseen,
Even though you do.
Those words are daggers, behaving
As though they aren't mine.
I speak with knives;
I meant for them to be
Feathers.
Those doves were sacrificed, back in June,
For no honest reason.
I speak with charcoal ash,
Black as those knives I spit
At you.
Those apologies are weapons I use
To **** it.

It slips out of me.
This love of mine.
This black love.
I'm through.

Daddy,

I knew an idea of you when I was five.

Father,

I know the facts about you now,

I wish you've stayed.

A resting bee on a flower dies
After it stings someone.
I've been stung before;
Then why did I die?

I walk from a blue room to a red one.
I never know which one to sleep in.
One is for lovers.
The other is for pretenders.
Dance in either one, **** in only one.
One is the color of the sky, before hell approaches.
There other is the sky for a killer.
Ravaged innocence is spilled on my Atlas.
A tourniquet is wrapped around my heart now.

I looked up at the sky much too fast;
to early.
My neck is snapped by the sudden whiplash.
You were my blue sky; we danced.
Now you're the devil with no disguise.

I love you, but I am not sure
how much.
I'm afraid really, like the sun is right before
breaking for dawn.
I hide my love for you behind mountains.
I love you like I am unable to say;
Type it I can.

I am afraid.

Those tight cheeks,
Oh sweetie.
Vampires can never
Drain the red off your
Face.

There lies your grace.
Stuck in between
Frames and shame.

***** anything real
And call it truth.
My daffodil:
I love you.

The sun sets silently inside of you.
This is true.
Let it engulf you.
We all need to burn.
This is true.

Onto my flesh, under those wonderful
Green rivers, is your blood,
Slowly suffocating

In a body no longer yours.
That's your legacy.

Those pine tree hairs, no longer *****
At the thought of your

Name.
That's my remembrance of
You to me.
My goblin in the night.

My pact with you is broken.
I buried you six feet under,
Another six more, to
Be

Sure.
I buried your name here,
My dead rose.
I've stopped watering you long ago.

I suppose it's the day you told me
To take care.
Die, now.
Now die.

My tongue no longer enjoys your taste,
Bitter,
Like a pianist, with out his lover to
Play for;
I felt that alone.

Oh, but no more.

Die now, die.

The last one is always the best one.
The next one is only the next best one.
The one after that is what the last one was not.
The one before the last one was the best,
I swear...
I mean...
before the next one.
This is the ultimate rat race.

Our hearts are the hopeful romantics.
Eventually one of them will be the one.
Just not today.
Just not tonight.

Will you the my next one?
Will you be worth the try?

It hides deep in your dark trenches.
It is the boldness of joy!
Rip it out of you and be relentless.
Be careful though; watch out for those menacing decoys.

Your happiness isn't in others.
It doesn't belong to them.
Treat it like you would your mother.
Tend to it and whatever you do: don't pull out the stem!

Your chest swells up with sadness.
Don't think that's not okay.
I know that it may all be madness,
But after it, you'll be left feeling gay.

You will sometimes feel scared.
You may sometimes feel sad.
Although you don't know it you will always be prepared.
It's okay to get mad.

I will always be there for you.

A best friend to love you.
A lover who knows how strong you are.

Your soul is battered.
Life can be tough.
No matter what though,
I'll always be by your side.

You're not alone.

I love you.

-For Julie.

Depression is heavy.
Bolder upon bolder on
My heart,
Soul,
Joy,
Soars, moans, scorns.
It is a tongue ripped in
Two.
A spine that cannot support.
It is useless, like most things.
Suicide hides behind it,
Waiting;
Those crooked teeth and all.
It is a lost childhood.
Lost in time.
Frozen, really.
It is not this or that.

Honestly, it is death in youth.
The death of youth.
It dances at fancy *****;
In sequence and secret:
It will only take your hand
In a dance that will not,
Cannot end.
Depression is all the
"I love you" letters burning
In hell.

It is you.

Death has nothing to
do with
the end of my earthly body.

How those maggots will
feast at my innards!

Death is a collection
of the things that fear
lets us see,
but not touch.
Kiss, but not love.
Forgive,
and lie that we forget.

Death is all of this, and more.
It is everything and nothing.
It is That lover you should not
have loved.

I thought I would try though.
October is the time of hurt;
death.

The truly honest are the most brave.
They have us beat, with nothing to show for it.
These pumped up hearts always try and
escape. We always die, die, die.

Those unable to preach the only word they know.
Those unwritten notes live in our hearts;
never on paper: That is the only death
that leaves an unwilling imprint in our souls.

Of course, death does not care for us.
It waits, like a statue waiting for its artist to return.
Patiently, hopeful that this night the moon forgets
to shine as bright as suicide in July.

Death, in all its unknown forms;
is in her voice, in his unanswered request for
another chance. That is the death I know.
It is the one that needs to repent.

Death is the transformation that will not disappoint.
It is clock work, from boy to man.
Girl to woman:
It is puberty at fifteen.

My body;
skinny figure for a
fragile boy.
My soul;
invisible to me,
completely new.
My heart;
it cannot be composed.
Ever.
My tears;
those rivers that
never dry.

"I'll keep you company"

This must be the
fragments of love.

Come closer;
The anger will subside.
Go away;
contradictions never hide.
Will you take...
I'll take you.

These are the
fragments of hope.

My darling;
I never lied to you.
My Lover;
I won't lie to you.
Me and you;
I know no other way.

These are the
remnants of my
loveless youth.

You'd swear that I am
always being punched on the nose
from how much I cry.

Do you remember?

You made me tremble
When you put those lilacs
On my lips
And called it
Love.

Something close to that.

You said that all of nature
Was giving me a kiss.

I didn't taste the sin in that.

Do you remember our love?
The word itself is pointless
But
Worth it in the end;

Like most things.

I remember those blades of grass and how they cut as sharp as lies
And you told me...

This is love.
The scars and the cuts.

It is a bedtime story before bed.
The ones where everyone winds up dead
In the end.

In the end.
You'll wind up dead.

Saying that: take that risk.

Have honor in your scars and cuts and remember:  this is love

Just not all
The time.

Do you remember?
There are miracles in doing that.

I remember it all,
And that was the point.
I felt every infected scab
On my heart.
Bruised fingertips left their mark.
Your name screams within me.

There are black ghosts inside of me.
They leave their nails in my soul,
Broken off and bleeding through.
And to think
This,
This is all because of your name

I would bleed if you
Asked,
Every.
*******.
Day.

When they think
Of my innocent blood
Dried on the floor,
I'll be a rusted God.

This blood,
It reads,
"It's not me, it's you."

Bloated stems shoot out of my throat,
Reaching out for hopeful, yellow rays.
Repulsion sets in though,
Like your defeated Grace when you think
Of her face.
Your glass heart cannot take it this way.
These stems see this; they must escape.
Out of this sensation, there lays a
Hopeful lie.
(If there's ever such a thing.)
Gargoyles are the time keepers of her.
Oh how they stand guard of the memories
You still hold of her,
For her,
In you,
You're through.

Those pearls on your neck are
The eyes of angels.
Pasty white, with a pastier background;
I swear I were looking into the
Eyes of God.
Your milky skin, asking to be
Tasted on this January night.
I swear this is what dying is for.
To know that this was all real.

To know that you were real.

These things are never me or mine.
These clocks ticking are a maxed out card.
You
       run
             as if you knew you were the mark.
The collective outweighs my lies.
July rains;
September moans.
August though...it whispers:
"Order in the court!"
Control and substance are married lovers
whose pits are tired of the night time sun.
Those type or miracles don't have a place
in my head to make sense
(It has
           it's own bed
                                 inside my head.)
The stitching in my heart is slowly coming
undone under that night time sun.
Mothers can only do so much before their
hands crust over.
These months run cold now,
unaware that they each have cousins,
waiting for their turn.
July 20, 1987.
There was a mistake on that day.

Part I

Those car rides with you on Saturdays
were all I really remember of my youth with you.
There was little talking done because it was understood;

You had me when you weren't ready,
but you couldn't hide from me.
You knew everything I couldn't see.

I chewed on my big chew and watched you.
I had a father on this day.
You weren't a black snake wandering and squirming away.

Years later you apologized for what you didn't understand.
Vampires ****** my compassion out of me long ago.
I said It was okay when I should have yelled no.

No more.
No more.
Go! Go! Go!

Part II

Now I always call you in my mind
if I'm not hiding behind blue walls.
The words are always hidden behind black shawls.

I have pieces of you in me
and I don't mean the physical traits.
I know I have your hate.

Men with less of them stayed
for their little runts.
At least your denial was perfectly blunt.

At this age the cycle is complete.
I'm here and I will never understand
why you never stayed to be a DAD.

Wearing hard hats in permanent wars leaves irony trapped
between bricks.
Whimsical cement barrages the broken man,
as if God trembled on his throne of Gold.
Sadistic laughs echo out of a war torn time;
rivers of blood only flow in June.
A rag with embroidered initials dances in the sky,
only visible by the truths that it once told.
I swear I saw an angel in the sky.
The signature of man is only visible once the
rifles stop shrieking.
This humid day leaves hearts cold.
Once eyes set upon a hope gone black, all is lost.
Only the howling wind knows what we have done.

You can't go back.
The time of innocence
And baby blue bottles
Is over, like your favorite movie.
Those scenes are done.
Cut!
They belong to an idea now.
Your idea.
It only manifest just as that;
It can't run, crawl, or ask
For you anymore.

Being aware of everything is
God smiling at us.
We are allowed all the
Knowledge of the world
Now.
You can have it back.

You can't go back.
The days of surprise
Are dead.
**** that cancer!

Running for joy is
Now becomes need.
Crawling now becomes
Begging.
Asking for anything
Transforms into a cry
For help.

You can't go back,
As much as you
Need to.

I'm sorry for that.
All of it.
All of us.

She's the one with bliss
Parading all over her
Skin. The march of love.

Everyday, at the crack of dawn ,
I wake up and **** myself.
Instead of a knife, I use a pen.
Instead of blood, ink is spread.
Soldiers march in formation,
from left to right.
They follow the orders of their master,
always leaving blood and massacres in their path.
This war is twenty-seven years old now.
I cannot corral it though, I've tried to stop.
With time comes lessons,
some will never have the honor to be learned.

At the crack of dawn, I wake up,
and **** myself.

Every single day.

The birds and the bees
See what I see:
I'm a prisoner to your eyes.

The fox and the wolf
Taste what I taste:
Your tongue taste like lies.

The snake and the snail
Touch what I touch:
Your rotting skin.

The dog and the rabbit
Smell what I smell:
I'm your unwashed, decaying toy.

The bat and the owl
Hear what I hear:
I love you sweetie.

My senses betrayed me.

Weaving Spider webs on dried petals
Each one as yellow as the sun.
There are centuries resting on each
One
Of
Them,
Some become black when I cough.
The flower is made up of seven,
When it use to be eight and nine.
Those petals should be delicate,
But I only feel cracked rocks.
Its stem goes down to hell,
Along with any trace of you.
The flower is no more.

Like a dry petal,
Neither is my love,
For you.
Goodbye oh yellow sun.

He doesn't believe in you the same
Way you believe in him.
Those battalions, in his honor,
Spill the blood of a deity.
Half man, all knowing,
He whispers death, death, death.
Those rampant vultures fight
For a fight not needed.
They ****, not for one,
But for those who enjoy
The spectacle that is your death,
My death,
Our death,
His death.

This burden is Oceans heavy.
Or does it run away from me from
the sacs that are my eyes?
Deadly cursed fool!
Morality slipped away from me;
The truth of me is not from me.
It is swept under beggars carpets,
easily stepped on but never clean.

Burdens run black in the shadow
of the moon tonight.
Suicide is bouncing off these walls
again.
No.
It's me.

I can see the red blotches on the walls.
I slipped up again.

She won't climb down from that hill.
She has nostalgia stuck in her throat.
It's left her voice rather hoarse.
She won't climb down from that hill.

Forced rhyming cannot dance.
It only struts, like a bandit in the night.
It steals all the important things:
It's in the words!

She made a home on that hill.
Sadistic how she could only think
of her own.
ALL!
A much needed detachment from the world;
she's tired.

The grass will eventually die.
Show me what doesn't.
I'll show you Adam and Eve,
post Sin.

She won't come down from that hill.
Not no more.
She not needed come down from that hill.
She's her own will.
She's her own hill.
Free!

These slick people dance as
If they're off to war;
Fighting because
instead of
A cause.
There's blood in that.
September's ribs break under my
Rotting hands.
I have to try before the moon
Runs
Runs
Runs away.
My corneas are tired of seeing
And choosing to twitch at the thought
That this moon...
This very moon belongs to anyone
Else but me and you.

Armies died for you;
Medals were rewarded on
That white hill.
They say God stood here once.
We did too.

I'm sure those bronze medals are worn
Proudly around your neck.

All those soldiers are dying or dead.
No real difference to this or that.
Armies fought for us.
The axis won.

Your love is
A made
Up

Piece.
Peace.

Look at the marks on her skin.
The way they tell her pain.
Slit and slash and blood on the brim.
The girl with no name,
Only a snark and a grin.

Lets find out more about her though,
before she becomes a shadow adrift a
raggedy ship.
Twenty-two, a reader, and a Jew,
A master of none, but yes,
a seeker of truth.
She did love this life, a great pretender she was.
Suicide never reveals itself, well, in itself.
It's always because of others.

The man of her nightmares found her.
The rest does not matter.

Tick and Tock, they both go hand in hand.
Her time had come, her time had come.
With a broken heart, but a precious smirk,
She took that blade and danced on her wrist.

The light hides behind the grey jellyfish.
Boxed in and afraid of its own beauty.
Tin cup gems are stuck on my hands.
I remember when everything wasn't blurry.

A tiny universe rest on my skin,
A reflection of Amber and gold.
Belly flopped jives and reaping
Good times exists in the howling
Wind.

There is
Solace in
Being sad.

It's better
Than the
Alternative.

Thinking of you is peace on earth.
You exists in the balance of my heart.

within me and in
The lies I say.
"I wasn't awoken because of her eyes,
Her essence of calmness;
Her."
Ahhh.
I've put you up with the God's now.
They're now your protectors.
Grab my throat and choke sense
Into me.
This is death in the present.

Those butterflies flutter freely in
The meadow,
Each with a piece of you on it.
It's the butterflies I vomited out tonight.

Ah, yes!
My breath is back, you had taken that too.
How may I rest when you roam in the
Distance of my mind and my heart?
Those two winding intersections are
Blocked off now.

Her,
The her that can't,
Won't,
Shouldn't expect love.

It's a suicide of sorts, this love.
It reciprocates death in every
Which way.
Run
Tire tracks over me and love me still.
You are romantic in a time that hides
It so well.
Almost ready to both buy and sell.

Holy hell and her.
Reach down my throat and
Pull yourself out of me.
At this rather mature age,
I cry and this thought:
It will die, this love, and I.

Still, run.
Run to and from my
Needle point confidence of you,
Of myself;
Microscopic love.

My veins flow in spider webs now
No order, just chaos.

I smile and die.
I smile and die.
This is love.

Do not fall in love
Unless you can turn darkness
Into light for them.

Although my moon isn't your mom,
And this night isn't your night,
My heart thirst for your truth.
Did you think of us when you
Were with her?

Time relapses under my eye lids;
I cry again.
The ghost of your deeds always haunts me.
Does it haunt you?

Dad...you broke me.
I am weaker with you.
You still walk this earth,
Void in my heart.

I forgive you, though.
I can't love you, though.

You're old now
And I'll catch up,
To a point.
I'm you, in some sense.
I'm you.
I'm you.

Dad, I'm done.
Dad, I'm writing this
For you.
I'm through.