Her hot breath bathes your bare chest in the warmth that nothing else can provide. One hand wrapped around the waist, legs intertwined, she sleeps, her gentle, steady heartbeat as infectious as any melody you've ever known. The only source of light is a flickering candle, casting dancing shadows upon the walls and ceiling. Discarded garments and drained bottles of wine litter the floor, the obvious aftermath of an evening quite certainly well spent.
The stage is set, and the actors are in position. The assembled crowd holds it's collective breath, both eager and fearful of how this tale is to end. As our two young lovers sleep deeply, the candle continues to fade, it's once exuberant and animated flame growing ever dimmer, until it fails in a sudden plume of smoke.
On cue, the comely lass springs to life, situating herself to straddle our poor lad. Her auburn hair falls to form a curtain around her suddenly nightmarish features. In one swift movement, she swings the dagger 'round and plunges it deep into his flailing torso. With sickening precision, she reaches in and forcefully removes his still beating heart. She makes her way to the door, the heartbeat fading to a gentle throb as she increases the distance between you, until it disappears into the cool night air.
The curtains fall. Applause. The audience departs, returning to their lives, unaffected by the passionate butchery they've just witnessed. The female lead goes on to enjoy the accolades and affection attended to shooting stars, as our unfortunate male is relegated to the role of bit player.
Oh, how I miss the days of dreamless slumber.

One bullet. One bullet is all it would take to drain away all of the disillusionment and dishonesty, all the tears and silent screams in the middle of the night when I can't see any reason to stick around, when all I want to do is set myself on fire and throw myself off the roof, for no other reason than to actually ****** feel something before I go. But I can't. The recurring thoughts of sweet release are always soured by thoughts of the aftermath. My parents. They would never recover. They'd spent the rest of what they don't even feel like you could call a "life" wondering where they went wrong, why I didn't come to them, why they weren't able to help me. Why their baby is dead. The image of my parents weeping over my brutally disfigured corpse is something I've never seen, but it haunts my ******* dreams every night when I close my eyes. ******* it mom and dad, why the **** do you have to care about me so much. I love you two, so ******* much. It may seem like an end to the pain for us, but for parents, it's the end of their lives.

I want you to look into my eyes and see shelter from the storm of society and selfishness that smother our spirits and leaves us broken and alone.

I want you to rest your battle beaten body in my warm embrace and know that the wars of yesterday are over. That you can lay down your arms while taking up mine, leaving the attacking forces behind and staying home to defend that to which your heart has been entrusted.

I want you to hear my voice and know that nothing else matters but we two. To know that calmer, gentler times are on the horizon. Times safe from uncertainty and fear, loneliness and solitude.

I want you to accept my hand in yours and know that, from this moment forth, everything will be alright.

The window panes
Silence the rain
But cannot dull the thunder.

You are the exact opposite of nothing. You are the scalding cup of coffee that screams at the frozen February sky. You are the meteor that must perform a show for thousands of people, gazing blindly past you. You are the toy broken by careless hands, but repaired by a master craftsman, made even stronger than before. You are the exactly perfect diamond, in the exactly perfect cut, in the exactly perfect price range. You are a God ****** tornado, lost in chaotic splendor. You are the crushing wave that left mayhem and panic in your wake. You are the most ******* amazing catastrophe I have ever seen, and so help me ******* God, I will not let the world lose you.

Only once has love ever opened my wrist,
Twice more with a rope, my neck has been kissed.
Three panic attacks on the floor of the shower,
Six nights have I wished to see my last hour.

Bare feet work the pedals as I cruise down broad street.
The papers vapors flutter through the window, the breeze feels so sweet
as it passes through my hair, without direction or a care.
So much like me.
I wish I could be.
Me when I was you and you were we, and we would kiss beneath the trees.
But now that's gone.
And so are you.
You left me here, now I'm all alone, and there's no sign pointing me back home.

The street lights bathe with golden glow
People passing on roads below.
Where they come from, who they are,
All meaningless, beneath the stars.
But when two people chance to meet,
And share the loves they seldom speak,
They form a bond no test can break,
Love to give is love to make.

The mystic Mys-Match of Mew Manor mounts the moon at midnight. He flies freely, forgetting the faltering fallacies that fold this failing facade of figments of the imagination and inglorious nations into a crooked caricature of creeps, clowns, and carcinogens to our culture. From crack and **** to casual deaths, the population prays for post-******* match days.

What's the reason of rhyme if you don't have a reason to see a new season of sweethearts and treason? The mystic Mys-Match of the planet Piblatch has snatched nary a glance of this reprehensible romance. He hums happily, hovering over the homes of the hurt and the helpless, unaware of the ugly and untrue souls of the suffering below.

Due in part, perhaps, to the planet Piblatch, whose population prowls playfully amongst the pipperplitz plants and the tinktertip trees. A civilization unaware of Gods and demons, *****'s and dip *****.

At sunset, the Piblatchians partake of rackaday root and crushed up clibber clatch cuttings. They see the psychedelic sky ways that sing of sweet things and spacey swings.

As mankind manipulates, murders, and maims itself, the world which waivers with weakened wings is consumed by the carnivores that **** off the common crowd and leave only the corrupt and cantankerous crooks that fall to the depths of despair when the bomb goes off, blotting out humanity's light forever.

But the mystic Mys-Match and his planet Piblatch live on, past the end of time itself. The peaceful people continue to enjoy their lives and never know of the negative notions that drove the dimwitted denizens of Earth into a violent and gruesome grave.

Mankind could have learned something from the Piblatchians, if only they had opened their eyes and seen the light.

You said you were fine.
The stains on the carpet,
You said you spilled wine.

Over the first half of this dreadful decade, I've been played by women quicker than I can drain the comparable bottles of liquor.
******, fed, and left to fend off a debilitating mental disease dubbed depression, all alone, once again.
So I wander cracked sidewalks and pockmarked streets, in a vain search for meaning, or even something as simple as companionship.
But to no avail, I trudge back home, head swimming, body lost to the waves, another failed attempt at soothing my emotional hangover.

Taking notes, sitting in the back of the class,
People around me act as pleasant as broken glass.
Marked up notebook full of toxicity,
Aching for the days of childish simplicity.
The kid in the front called the teacher a ****,
And none of these ******* will shut the **** up.
I don't even care, cuz I'm smarter than them,
But once I make my fortune then they start to depend
On me paying my taxes while they sit on there ***** poppin out ******* then preaching to the masses about how they're being oppressed, this place is a mess, I wanna walk into the hood and take two to the chest.
Cuz nobody cares, if they do they don't share, that's why my only goal is getting the hell out of here.
Out of this town, out of this state, off to where the leeches won't steal off my plate.
Somewhere with people that still wanna learn, not content to sit back and watch the world burn.
I'll set it on fire, my burning desire, is to grab everyone of you and tattoo the word liar,
Across your face, so you'll know your place, and you'll understand why people always called you a ******* disgrace.
You take, and you steal, and you bleed us all dry,
But I'm out, I quit, break chains and and un-die.

I tell myself I write these words for no specific face,
But I can't lie, to my mind's eye, when placing them on pages
Bound in leather, held together, by the loves I never knew,
Doesn't matter who I flatter, still, I dream of you.
Your name, as sweet as honeysuckle, passes through my lips,
I miss the sin of your silk skin beneath my fingertips.
Thinking thoughts of drinking, drowning memories turned blue,
A million months of nights spent drunk, and still, I dream of you.

Your smile was a blessing when my heart felt ****** to wandering a barren, pathetic wasteland.
Your arms were a safety net for a soul stuck in free fall for longer than it can remember.
Your eyes were warm fountains of water for muscles that were torn and sore from years of fighting losing battles.
Your heartbeat was a meditative drum that could calm me when nothing seemed to matter anymore.
You're my sun, my moon, and the air around me, and I promise that even if you aren't mine, my heart will always be yours.

Quivering hands as soft as silk,
Skin as white as mother's milk.
Hair the color of sunsets glow,
Gentle as the falling snow
Outside my window, chilling winds,
Flawless lips form a tremulous grin.
Tangled bodies trap the heat.
Where clothing ends and bare skin meets between the mattress and the sheets, two bodies sing unsung desires.
Those piercing eyes like emerald fire
Bathe my features in warm affection.
The chance to form a deep connection
Guides a driver without direction.
Demons dwell in lonely nights,
I beg you, please, just hold on tight.

It would seem, that at some point, people got bored.
No longer do the masses beat down my door.
Though I love being lonesome, I long for companions
To keep up my spirits and never abandon-
A knock on the door! My breathing grows quicker.
Just UPS. A package delivered

Greetings, hello, and welcome to the end.
Come become anonymous, like all your other friends.
Cast aside the velvet rope, step behind the veil,
Enter blackened plains where the weeping sirens wail.
Comfort is a vapor rumour in this unending gloom,
You dreamt of glowing paradise, not this barren tomb.
No mother hears your cry for help,
No father hears your scream,
It's time to grasp what you have done, that this is not a dream.

Head fractured in two,
The juices taste ripe and sweet.
Heart sour and stale.

Rubber chicken bubble bath,
greasy chicken nugget,
Never learned a lick of math
How many in this bucket?

Counting on my hands and feet,
Spilling sweet and sour,
Wolfing down this deep fried meat
By dozens every hour.

Teriyaki, honey mustard, Barbecue, Atomic,
Churning in this raging pit of lava once a stomach.
Though many hours pass, a fire immolates my mouth,
Then I feel the terror of what waits for me down south.

My body is a war zone, a broken ruin burning,
Though I may never eat again, I’m bad at lesson learning.
For if I ever do, I will forget this day,
Once more my organs pay the price, the spice will have its way.

I'll bend over backwards till head touches heel,
If you'll be my back brace when finally healed.

Our time limit is uncertain, but the time is certainly limited.

Ballyhoo, humdinger, funky macaroni,
Nibble frozen kerosene with my cousin Ptoneigh.
Herd of camels stampeding through the needles eye,
Masquerading as the clergy, no one knowing why.

Filling pages every day with random bits of knowledge,
Been treading water every day since graduating college.
I’m no adult, but not a boy, stuck somewhere in between,
Development, for years arrested, since I was a teen.

Staring through the windshield, blindly contemplating space,
Laughing/Crying Hoping/Fearing for the human race.
Criminals in tailored suits, dementia plotting wars,
When the conmen call the nukes, I hope I have clean drawers.

Bury me face down cuz I can’t bear to the see the rest.
Flabbergasted daily at humanities arrest.

Nobody knows, nobody asks why,
My body’s a temple devoted to eyes.
Within and without me, they gather all sights,
No secret forbidden, I bask in their light.

Eyeless scarred zealots cry out my true name,
Lost in an instant, devoured by flames.
Their ashes swirl round me, like snow on the breeze,
I lay bare their sins, and set their souls free.

One man lingers on, though charred beyond rescue,
Raving lunatic prayers, he screams “I condemn you
To sightless despair for eons to come!”
And with this foul curse, at last he succumbs.

With a scoff of dismissal, the heavens alight,
And scorch every eyeball, banishing sight.

Chocolate, bear claw, Bavarian cream,
Am I really here or is this a dream?
I can smell coffee and fresh baked goods,
Swaying in line where so many have stood.

The lights are too bright, they’re hurting my head,
Can someone just give me some jelly filled bread?
And three apple fritters, a cruller or two,
At this point, any old fry cake will do.

Rev up those fryers and ready the glaze,
As I’m very drunk, and just as amazed
At the flavor they pack into frosting and dough,
Now stand the hell back and watch my bill grow.

Dozens or hundreds, I can’t get enough
Of these twists so sublime, ah, that’s the stuff.
The driver is ready, it’s my time to go,
I think I’ll just grab a half dozen or so.

We get in the car and start to head home,
What’s this in the bag? A bagel!? God, no!

Lungs now constrict as the strength flees my knees
And I drift through the years on antiquities breeze.
Visions so vivid, the present dissolves
Till I’m standing in memories, fully resolved.

I’m drunk in a dorm room, surrounded by friends,
Not knowing I’ll never be with them again.
We revel and toast the delights which await,
Until the dawn breaks and we’re forced through the gates.

Impaled by the arrows of numerous clocks,
I fall through adulthood and beg time to stop.
A day’s now a decade, I’ve nothing to show
For the years that I’ve wasted not chasing my goals.

I stumble through life like a drunken old coot,
To numb to suss out the dregs from the loot.
Scenes spiral out from my blind inner eyes
And dissipate swiftly as dreams become lies.

Snapped back to the present, I stare at a screen
And continue my work as I hear my soul scream