i made microwaveable noodles
they burnt my hand
i sent them to the floor
my stomach growls in pain

I cannot hate you
though only God knows how hard i try
It's not our songs that make me cry
it was the dance we shared
I rework the steps in head
trace the thread from end to start
yet the filaments fray under touch
observation, physics, shift
and the memories are never clear
the only thing I know
is i fell in a trap
deceived by my better half
my better half
no longer whole
bitter fermentation of the fruits of love
drown again in the bottle
of aged oak drink
hop and barley
they said I was ****** but can't recall
yet there's a picture of me unconscious
***** sprayed upon painted brick walls

vacancies upon the shelf
emptied souls upon the
almond scent aged
old faded pages
sooth the soul
voices of old
imortal ink
born new
speak

i wake up tired
and before i fall asleep
i feel the most awake
the most alert
my mind doesn't work
until the sun goes down
i don't know why
why its so hard to get going
my biggest regret
is waking up this morning
not that today was any worse than yesterday
or tomorrow will be any better
im not afraid
sometimes i think i am
afraid to make the choices i need to make
its not fear
its apprehension
not of what will happen
but what will become
what will become of me
i spoke to god once
just once
it was on a rickety subway car
we were alone
as only he would have it
i cant share with you what he said
im sure you'll understand
but i'll tell you this
he doesn't hate you
because of the things you do
or the people you hurt
he talks to you like a mother
with the wisdom of your father
his presence was fear
of his strength
i could feel it to the bones
his presence was love
because he came to me
and wanted to know my answers
which im sure he already knew
but to speak them aloud
to hear my voice carry
the answers within
the questions i knew
he broke the silence
and i knew why
he gave me a voice
so that we could speak
he gave me a voice
so that i could be heard
and as he approved
rejection
i of he
he couldn't change it
and so we sat
on a rickety subway car
i spoke to god
before i killed him

In two hours
you will be dead
skies will open forth
angels weep
and while the sky falls
the world turns
not an eye weeps
for the dreamer who wont awaken
for even in death
no changes
even the coffee
still tastes same

Catch a bullet
between the teeth
lead is surprisingly soft
compared to porcelain
yet
somehow the
bone is weak
introverted eyes see
the white
covered in red and pink

Worship in vanity the thread count in linen
Sacred vestments of Gucci Inquisition
Crimson is the season
She called it blood orange
I simply saw blood
Diamonds in her ears
Stole the glory from the stars
Dull brown eyes hide
Below saturated blue
Lenses to hide her shame
That she wasn’t born a princess
Perhaps prince charming awaits
In another dive bar
Holding a whiskey sour