The End Times

Repent, the zealot dinner guest, invited
For purposes of theological correctness, chides.
Repent, and sin no more, he advises, for the end is near.

But isn't that like asking a carnivore to turn vegan
Moments before the serving of  a pampered calf's liver
I ask

he takes special care in the fall of a sparrow
The zealot replies, eyeing me as I set
My peas to one side with my fork.

Yes, but it was just that one, I retort.

His first.

The Dullard

A well intentioned
Comrade dropped
Off a basket of learning
Tools for my niece and nephew.

Among the colorful array
Of big red dogs
And purple dinosaurs
I find a book titled
"God Thought of It First."

I paused to consider
Pernicious Anemia,
Gary, Indiana, Republicans,
The Ford Pinto...

I sure never would
Have thought of it.

Breakfast
The morning spins lazily
out of the Universe’s black eye
like a surveillance camera
******* my paranoia.
I eat a small breakfast
of toads and do my coughing
exercises.
In the cellar the flesh
incinerator purrs for dinner
and is only satisfied with
one species of rare mammal.
My exotic summer guests,
strewn on the floor
like pickup sticks,
are becoming a burden,
so I toss one in the furnace
and hazily return to bed.

I was never good at writing love poems untill I met you

we all have this one person you would do anything for, like anything
you could die for that other human without hesitation, without doubt

they know each other for almost a year now and a lot had changed
she fell in love with her that year and it killed you inside, everything
she wanted to give up on her so many times, it was so so hopless
and I knew, I knew you loved me, I knew you were in love with me

maybe she was just afraid to let someone in, to let someone love her
it was the darkness that was always haunting her, the demons inside
I remember the first time the razors kissed my veins, it was a thursday
I remember the blood and the crying, the shame and the crying, crying

it were the wodka and punk rock music the piercings and tattoos
the time of high wasted jeans and timberlands, red lipstick and eyeliner
the stories the kids told on the street were probably made up, fake
even the broken childeren needed a laugh once in a while, fake
nobody thought that we also deserved to be happy, just for once..

we could blame it on the internet or television, the time we live in
blame our parents for not loving us the way they should love us
the pills we ate every night just to find a way to escape this **** hole

this girl always made feel a little bit more alive but now she's gone
she's gone and I know she is coming back soon but she feels gone
like that part of me that was made for her is gone, I feel alone again
music is filling the hole what is left crying in my heart, my soul

and if I begged you would you stop this, the feeling of loneliness
can you stop me from hurting myself, stop me from being worthless
happy endings are made for happy people, I am not getting one, ever

I always was a sucker for attention and cheap love, dont blame me

love poems aren't a thing for me.

it were the dreams in which I was living that made me wanna die

the summer was ending and the cold of the winter was filling my veins
you were leaving my mind like the sun was leaving my dying fantasy..
I am getting older everyday and everyday I need a little bit more *****
running away with you, the person I adore most was all I ever wanted

and every night before I fall asleep I aks myself.. why don't you love me
why don't you have the need to touch me, to share your deepest secrets
you were mysterious like the moon, like the meaning of my tattoo's..

there always was a path of light were you have walked
the riddels you spoke, your angelic voice that haunts me everyday
but you also were dark my dear, dying and hopeless

it felt like flying everytime we kissed, I was happy, you made me happy
but I was fragile, a daughter of the dark, the keeper of sadness, demons
eleven years old when everything went wrong and it all is still wrong
the voices in my head would never let me out of this cage, trapped

september was coming and the clouds coverd my sight of happiness
it was a long way to find a way out of this dark and ****** up forest

and so she died at age seventeen, the graveyard never was this pretty
the stars of the heavens and their constellations didn't shine their light
there were flowers laying on the girl her grave, all grey, black, dying

it was the perfect night to share your tears with the world, so we did

some people think math is beautiful because it's the same in every country
I am not one of those people, the people who see beauty in everything

and I dont needed math to count the days since you have left me..
it were 129 days.. 3096 hours.. 23 minutes and 31 seconds.. since you left
maybe the nigths were harder since you've bin gone, longer and sadder

I wanted to go with you but you never allowed me, he needed his space
I don't believe in 'space' if you love someone you want that person near
he never found that necessary, he never found me necessary

but don't you feel sad for me please, after a while the pain faded away
I learned to deal with the fact he was better of without me..

the picture of his face just wouldnt leave my mind
and the need of wanting the chase him grow everyday..

I waited for days, months, I would wait for years, hours and minutes

waking up every morning still wearing his Iron maiden shirt..
only because I don't want him to leave my life, not for real, imagine

this boy was like a hero from the movies, a prince from the fairytales
a beautiful human being, so different, a melody that kept following me..
he always gave me the feeling of belonging of being worth existing
when I was with him the world was a bit more beautiful

that feeling when you dont even know what the ******* are feeling

I had that, always, whenever I was with him.

Swaying on the swing set in the warm summer breeze
I close my eyes and smile
I love days like these
Days at the park are priceless
I let my mind go free
I dance as the leaves make music
I run feeling the cold grass on my feet
I sit on the bench and watch others live their lives
I am in awe with what I see
There are no celebrities walking the red carpet
I see average people like you and me
I come to the park to escape the teenage life
whenever I'm here I feel like I am four again
No girl is judging me or my clothes
no guy is calling me a *****
As the sun touches my skin I feel a warmth that can only come from love
I think about the scars on my arms
I cry until I have had enough
I get up and I spin in circles again
with each circle I make a piece of my past falls off of me
and that moment becomes a brand new day

A not time night time.
And maybe.

Freedom exists.

Love.

Cans opened.

A blue door opens.

Lexis.

Let's us.

Record plump in Lexus.

Little he'll hurt.

A breath and my back performs over you.

August Twenty Fifth

Avenue.
The sky with your family.
If we had more information.
More lies.

Without a vocal why.
I ask.
Words dying silent.
These minutes define a life sentence.

I stop.
Examine shoes.
Reveal to you.
Grave spectacle.
Tar soaked heel and sole.

Cities swallow.

Lies and *****.

Dyes of the month.

Years later, alleyways  beckons.
Skirts slid towards Hell.
Dull knife.
Reminding her to dive deep into royal gene pools.

Reminding her to avoid boys with boots.

Retraining my exhalation sacrifice.

Difference of four hundred thousand dollars.

It is this effort is too much.

Exhale.