There's a certain type of vileness,
Only seen inside her iris,
The dagger lips and forked tongues,
Only add to the surprise
That you believed she was genuine,
But the detail's where the devils in,
And I can see it all clearly,
In the feature of your face.

There's treason, ****** treason,
In every single reason,
Why I love you, I still love you,
Won't you come and stay with me?
In this house I have built,
From the cards up my sleeve,
And I promise it won't blow away
As long as no one breathes.

There's a certain kind of violence,
Only seen inside his kindness,
The wine is spiked and the roses,
Grow sick within our minds,
The worm that flies in darkness,
Laying eggs in broken hearts,
Plants its seed inside of me,
Left me labouring the dark.

There's ******, ****** ******,
In every single word of,
"I love you, I still love you"
What a tender little curse!
Why don't you spit it in my face,
From the depths of you lungs,
I'll be waiting in the bedroom,
Just to catch it with my tongue!

There’s beauty in this life
Such abundance to suffice;
The sick, the ******, the beggars cursed hand,
And all their eternal strife,

You’ll be forgiven for your youth,
And every badly told excuse
When you stumble, fall, and dent the wall,
In your drunken search for truth,

So when you pass the places
Of past humiliation,
Look only with kind eyes in hindsight,
As you’ve grown so old with age,

If your heart is getting fond of
The darkness you may wander,
Remember, love is, most certainly,
Just around the corner.

In him inexplicably mix’d appear’d
Much to be lov’d and hated, sought and fear’d.
Opinion varying o’er his hidden lot,
In praise or railing ne’er his name forgot;
His silence form’d a theme for others’ prate;
They guess’d–they gaz’d–they fain would know his fate.
What had he been? what was he, thus unknown,
Who walk’d their world, his lineage only known?
A hater of his kind? yet some would say,
With them he could seem gay amidst the gay;
But own’d that smile, if oft observ’d and near,
Wan’d in its mirth and wither’d to a sneer;
That smile might reach his lip but pass’d not by,
None e’er could trace its laughter to his eye.
Yet there was softness too in his regard,
At times, a heart as not by nature hard,
But once perceiv’d, his spirit seem’d to chide
Such weakness as unworthy of its pride,
And steel’d itself, as scorning to redeem
One doubt from others’ half withheld esteem;
In self-inflicted penance of a breast
Which tenderness might once have wrung from rest;
In vigilance of grief that would compel
The soul to hate for having lov’d too well.

Her Dad rolls cones, her Mam racks lines,
Her home is built from lie on lie,
She lies her bones on the bed thinking why,
That boy took a rope to the neck and died,
She held him high in her arms;
Higher in her mind.

He looked at her with reluctant love,
Reluctant enough she’d think nothing of,
His seductive eyes; the boy was shy,
He tucked his pride deep inside his sighs,
Until she held him in her arms;
Held him high in her mind.

The river cries;
Walk beside it.
Untie the love locks,
From the bridge that flies it,
And if they sink,
And Venus floats,
It’ll wash up at your feet,
If you walk far enough.

And now she sees it for the first time,
Beautiful Venus undisguised,
Looks that shook the butterflies,
Inside the veins she cut with knives.
When she remembers she held him,
Not just in her mind.

I’m the master of darkness
You can’t seem to find,
I’m the recluse in the light;
Too divine,
In the bedroom waiting tight,
Inspired on the balcony
With the rhythm alive,
She seems to curse me
With every sound she makes,
And disagrees
With every breath I take,
Another love on a starlit night;
Wine is blood,
Heart is spite.

At the bottom of the pit
runs a river of spit,
In the subway, rough play
pays out a quid,
Sally's getting pally
with a scally in the ally,
And there's no time to dally
if she wants another hit,

Because it hits the place
that's away from here,
Where the kids don't die,
and the kids aren't feared,
Where poets and dreamers
escape fate sealers,
And the doctors and dealers
are not one and the same.

But when love is laced with
intoxication,
You find no shame
scraping up the pavement,
Twitch the fiction from your lips
when they ask about your kids,
Let them think that your a victim
when your asking for a payment,

Because it hits the place
that's away from here,
Where the kids don't die,
and the kids aren't feared,
Where poets and dreamers
escape fate sealers,
And the doctors and dealers
are not one and the same.

We feast on the rotting corpse,
Of the dead horse we beat,
The words unsaid are the maggot heads,
Stuck between our teeth.

You ***** a smile from a wincing face,
As your stomach bile regurgitates,
All the promising lies contaminated,
within sour skin.

Dont spit it out in front of me,
Don't tell me your not hungry,
These festering worms beneath the bones,
Are still good to eat,

See I've dressed it up all nice,
Peeled lemon zest with lice,
With spite infesting every memory,
All crawling inbetween the lines.

I kissed a girl with a broken smile;
nothing could come near.
She carved it with a pocket knife;
slit from ear to ear.
And she wears it like her favourite scarf;
it keeps her from the cold.
So I told her its only woven by
her enemies of old.

The stars don’t define my life,
But the specs of mould on the ceiling,
I study them carefully at night,
Reading them in true light,
A sickly soul they’re revealing.

A wondering eye sees all,
And repulsion overwhelms it so
Much that one gives out a hopeless sigh.
The ceiling is too high,
To wipe Aries and Leo.