Half eaten chocolates mingle with dead leaves
as wood floors yearn for elbows
and I crave the fluids
of Paradise
dripping like sweet nectar
from
your vile and wretched

Gate to Hell.

What do you do
when you feel useless
to the world that
you're trying to save
from yourself?

The revolution remains
in our head
un-manifested
just like us
trying to formulate
the message we want to express

Or the demons we want to slay
with telepathic laser vision
Burning through our third eyes
with our sights
set on the Goddess

The muse in the mayhem
marching away through the chaos
The thrill in the chase
is the biggest cocktease

Meeting us at our sacrificial
sacred places we like to invent
Meet me under the Moon
and I'll make you howl like
watching the best minds of our generation
destroyed by their own madness

That's how to get back at the world
that tried to make us feel useless

...
Your name,
a stab wound in the neck.
Memories of you,
moldy coffee grounds
and soggy biscuits;
your taste, spoiled milk.

Black, oily tendrils spill from my dying lips each time I say your name in my head.

I do not say it out loud

You are she now, I must
remember.

She...her.

She was the only one
I would have
completely submitted
to, had she only asked.

Her juices, sublime.

She ruined me
for the rest of you.
Cold and dark, her love
is the shadow in my eyes.
These bloodstained years,
ashes, weightless.

I cannot love anyone now.
I gave what little I had to her,
and she killed it.

I let her

This purging of her,
will it ever end?
So many dead memories
taking up precious space.
So many lies, so many lies.
A soiled sanctuary,
dripping in poison.

My dearest and darkest love,
my only.

They were all for you,
these poems. These futile
attempts to reconcile my reality
with my guts. Even the ones that weren't for
you carried your shadow.

Her, not you.
I must remember
This one broke me
because she didn't know
how to wield
the immense power
I gave her.
She was careless.

This has to stop.
Soon.

I want to hold someone
else and not think of...her.

You

I want to make everything right.

No

I want revenge.
I want her to suffer.

These dark reflections
from my nothing
inside
are innocuous.

Pale skin, bleach and rotten milk.
Lies and lies and lies.

Her grey garden is barren
but I still have sight.
She was supposed to
pluck my eyes.
Communion, this eating of
my flesh and
drinking of my
blood
has left me
bereft of anything
worth wanting.

*I crawl through stone