Tell your gods we call for blood
We're stirring hurricanes in your teacups.
It's an instant headache cure at the end of a barrel,
Though a worthwhile gauntlet to continue to breathe.

We’re stirring hurricanes in your teacups
It might be easier to crash and burn.
Though a worthwhile gauntlet to continue to breathe,
We should never measure our breaths to our steps

It might be easier to crash and burn.
Children die from the painful things they learn.
We should never measure our breaths to our steps,
But the dignity in life is too beautiful to regret.

Children die from the painful things they learn
It’s an instant headache cure at the end of a barrel
But the dignity in life is too beautiful to regret.
Tell your gods we call for blood

How pretty the skin on the worthless *******
With hair that caged the essence of strawberries
What a soul that burns electric in the common neon night!
But all he can see are her legs.

I guess those are good too.

Oh Kronos, you left me behind,
Speeding down the track to Oblivion
The seconds, the minutes, the hours fly by
And yet your hands pull further from mine

Dear Time, leaving me to wander,
What depths are there left to ponder?
Leviathan will consume us all
While you wait at the end with the glaring gall.

Speak to me through the threads dear tourist,
Lend me a sign, a clue, a hint you friend and altruist.
I cannot be left to drift in the futile battles already lost
My heart and soul are the final tokens to pay the dear cost.

You would leave your Rhea to suffer her children’s slaughter?
Eating the small things she holds dear, only to satisfy your lustful fear?
Time, hand me no more. Lead me elsewhere than your gut.
I am not to be fodder to the fireless man waiting at the end of time.

Every morning I see the sun rise.
Opulent, magnificent,
Color splashing on the renewed Earth,
Opalescent wonder reminding onlookers
That color is only a feast for the eyes.
Mountains of clouds break against the ocean ceiling,
Asking the onlookers to dive deeper into the
Depths of the endless, glorious sky.
A master painter could not compare in excellence
Opposed to this ephemeral masterpiece.
Such detail in grandeur,
Holy awesomeness in finesse,
No mark absently fashioned
No stroke of paint unadorned.
Yet beneath this wonder
My heart longs for a sunset with no sunrise.
Let me play my part in the morning’s scene
Rather than sit as the passive onlooker
Never to create such beauty.

Sleep, little girl, where the nerve endings died,
And pain no longer finds you.
In the sun’s thoughtless light your heels are too high
With your chest falling away from your body.
It’s on the edge between dreams and waking
The shore of feeling and thought
That those gentle storms kick and shake you.
Don’t you see it? Sitting wide
A hole with a mouth to swallow you.
It’s the place where the glass kept cutting and cutting,
Where fires burned and the salt ocean burned worse.
Memories forgot about it and they’ll forget you too,
In the place where all nerve endings died,
Where the little girl forgot she cried
And drowned without pain to alarm her.

There is beauty on the horizon that I can almost see
A dream dances a breath from my fingertips,
Ghosting in the corner of my eye.
Yet all I find is the winter in my heart and the burning in my throat.
Yet all I see is a watery landscape disfigured through blurred, infected eyes.

This beauty on the horizon calls to me
Leaves forgotten sticky notes that won’t stay put,
Fluttering around the caverns in my mind.
Yet all they do is land in puddles of venom.
Yet all they do is make me pain for what I could be chosen to forget.

That beauty is almost past me now
In search of another lover to spend the night
Or a ***** to pay to hold him for a while.
Yet he doesn’t know what I’d give to be near him without this broken shell.
Yet he doesn’t know how easily we could intertwine and never be broken.

Those beautiful dreams could be mine to hold
Weighing less than a handful of sand,
Phasing more quickly than smoke through the air.
Yet my heart feels knives smirking in the shadows.
Yet my heart has nothing left
        Except to bleed.

There are secrets I tell to the demons in my heart
Secrets that had torn me of peace long before they contaminated the air.
My mind screams to shed these weights, the crown of thorns sitting on my brain.
But my lying tongue holds these flames for beings who care not for fire.
Every whisper in the dark echoes these trifles
Every breath exhaled sings of my malice
To my hate, I beg it to leave. Attract other things to replace it.
But my limits are human. Though I strive for wings, only arms remain.
Bare backed and lashed with my own whips.
So I’ll spit on the ground; masochistic to the core.
Dear demons, do not betray my goodness to these angels.
Let them think me, as you, demonic. And therefore, forgettable.

It’s breaking and it’s lifting
But **** the alcohol helps
When the cold taps your shoulders
And clutches more than yourself
I could stand in darkness for these next few days
But the fear of trying
Oh, it’s gone and passed away.
I know the end, know the struggle
I’ve cried many a night
But the dreams that still wake me
I’ll be **** sure the win this knight is mine.

And I stretch and I breathe and how the mistakes help
With the twisting and turning beyond the letters
Into the soul.
Into the soul I delve.

Let it be dramatic, you’ve thrown bigger things away
In the rotten garbage I thought I’d remain
But I rose to the light, rose to Heaven above
Not because I’m some silver winged dove but because

Because, because, oh friend, I don’t remember where I belong
In the nights with the cold tapping and the street clapping
Oh, I know this worn song.

It used to press me from bitten skin
And torn flesh
And forgotten blood,
…my God, what did I give?

I gave everything I had and still he took more
From the liquid release I REMEMBER.
I KNOW.
I SEE.
I FEEL, my Lord, I feel what’s been stolen

And in the brisk night
Between the twilight
With the wind aloud
Slapping streets proud
I have been wasted
My soul, been tasted.

But tonight I belong to myself and no more
With the sunlight scratching deeply
In a drunken, morning chore.

The light that seeps, sunlight is absent
How this soul glitters in the blurry wasted seconds
And I know, I know, that some poor soul will hear my cry
Instead of pity I’ll find the dreams of another kind
Together we’ll rise in the frosted air of light

As I sing drunken lullabies so sweetly in the rhythmic night.

Your heart is a clock; each beat a tick closer to midnight. But what happens at 12:01 when the world doesn’t stop and the clock’s run out but you keep hearing it beat and beat and beat until there’s just a melody? Just a melody floating in space, no time to guide it, no heart to keep it, no body to dance with it? What happens when you’ve perished but are timeless, half life over and radioactive all at once?

I’m sitting on a shelf with an old expiration date and yet buyers are still looking, still considering. I could go. I could move today, right now, this second, with this breath. But I am not now ripe, yet ancient and withering. Youngest of them all, older than the rest. I am the moment between waves, when the water flees the shore and the sand and shells believe they are dry and safe, but I know, I know, the wave is coming, much stronger, but no one believes me because I am too young to know, too young to have seen the previous waves. And yet I know. Because I am eternal. Midnight passed for me; It’s 12:01 and the stars are still shining and I’m waiting for dawn, even when no one else believes in dawn anymore.

There is a body beyond the door next to me. He listens at the door, he peers from the dark, and he watches and he learns. He is the buyer considering. I am the expired ******* that has no brethren to follow, yet will never mold. I am always viable, a cockroach among mammals. I am different. This does not make me valuable. This makes me dangerous, this makes me another rat in the race, because the paw prints next to me also belong to a different rat, but he is not dangerous. I am dangerous. I am eternity in a cell, screaming with insanity because I know, I know, there is a melody floating in space without any time and I hear beating, beating, beating all around even after the clock has stopped and it’s 12:01 and midnight was supposed to be the end but I found the back cover of the book and kept walking.

Your heart is a clock. Mine is a time bomb.

Brittle bones and dulcet tones
Of monitors beeping their last.
In a sunny room with a sinless floor
White sheets of purest perfection
Cover the only blemish
In view of Eden.
A casket of flesh hangs in tranquility
Over the hollow structure of mud and man.
Angels blink and do not see
The raging lacerations cradling
And caressing the final pieces of life
In her.
Her visage drapes to silence the mind
And will never be held again.
The winter of her absence is already felt
As her hands drift away like smoke.
Never took more than was hers,
Now this takes all that ever touched her.
The payment for a well-lived life is love
Hers wandering after the dulcet tones
Do cease.

The terror sunlight brings makes the shadows of the night
       Mere church mice.
The beautiful, waking seconds more disconcerting than sun showers
       Bathed in certain ambiguity.
The moments engrave their records in our eyes,
       Reminding us of our eternal fixation.
The sleight of hand that brainwashes us in favor of long hours of conviction
       Instead of the truth in a storyteller’s gorgeous fiction.
The lies our sight sings to us are only digging deeper in the soft earth,
       Our graves swallowing us as we breathe and don’t speak.
The dirt of the physical, the mud of the popular and the worms that carry them,
       Knitting through my eyes and ears and mouth and nose.
The sweet suffocation of silence will carry me to darkness again
       Where the church mice and I can plot our escape.

My kiss burns like a brisk day in fall
When the leaves all change
And everything is dying
But apparently it’s beautiful
Even when plants are going to sleep
Because the world needs to be different now.
My kiss burns in the way a shelving unit is frustrating
All the instructions are in Japanese
But you took high school Spanish
That should’ve helped
But it didn’t
And neither will the IKEA hotline when you call.
My kiss burns like an empty room
Where there’s just one naked lightbulb
And the light is too harsh
So you squint a bit
The walls are white so there’s not much to see
But there should be.
My kiss burns how empty tuna cans smell
The whole room reeks like it
Your roommate judges you for eating it
But you’re too poor for real food
And cans are fun to open
Though you really need pickles with this.
My kiss burns as badly as middle school photos
When pucca shell necklaces were cool
And baggy t-shirts hid the fact
Yes, you are a girl
Comb your hair
Because this moment will consume your memory.

You’re the closest thing that I can’t see
Dust and smoke and rubble all around.
My mind reeling with things almost forgotten
My head, my head, it sings with delicious pain
Running forwards and backwards in the sunny day.

I am safe on a park bench.
Children play around.
But when I look up, all I see are bodies on the ground
I hear sirens in the air
Coughing fits in the distance
I am alone in the midst of persistence.

Sing to me nightmares of the future
Breathe in me the solitude of the present
There are blisters on my feet, calluses forming proud
And yet I know the past nips at my heels urging,
“Find him! Find him! Take him as your own!”
But I know, I know the moment he’s mine the world loses hold.

Who am I to take this sweetness for myself?
To condemn the world on a brink of war
Because I don’t want to be lonely anymore?
He’s been lonely for so long too, lonely and singing and reminding me of the blues.
I can sing the blues because as he walks past me
He’s the closest thing that I refuse to see.

And what’s the story you want to hear?
Been a long time since you’ve captured blank pages.
Sit close darling, I’ll whisper in your ear
The sad sung spins of repressed, burnt-out ages.
I found the Mocking Man,
Though his charms are better kept in their cages
They’ve all run wild against the master plan
And left you to your worthless weeping.
Sprites will trickle back over the paths they ran
Simply crawl into the memories you’ve forgotten without seeing
So don’t ask me heedless questions yet,
Your memoirs of blood will be written amidst your screaming.
Take the blank, take the bet,
I’ll be surprised if you survive without him, Dear.
It seems your heart is dancing forever in his well-spun net.
Don’t cry to me when you realize he’s all you’ll ever fear.

My heart is pumping
   On the floor.
The blood it cries
   Carries my life away,
      Dripping down the steps.
The memories I hold
   And the love I bring
      Cutting deeper and deeper
         Each moment.
These new wounds
   Have even broken scars
      And revealed the pulpy muscles
         Down below.
Nothing is left now
   Except love.
Light shines through all
   Because there is nothing left
      In shadowy cover.
My heart stopped
   Pumping
      In my hand.


And instead began to glow.

Everything you say and do,
I still resent you.
And from my heart of hearts,
I wish your horrid, drawn out death
       the easiest of starts.
Your lips breed putrid cologne
That rots me from the cores of bone.
Your presence drags on my flesh to make it crawl
Enough that i'd rather bang my head against the wall.
My poetry even suffers from this burning hate
And leaves it to a simple, rhyming fate.
I crossed the line from passion and grown to detest
The time spent with you, which began so blest.
My mind is bare and uncomplicated thanks to you
So just remember,
Everything you say and do,
I still deplore, detest, and loathe
Myself.

And the floodgates opened
We watched as the debris floated away
We felt the water lash at the edges
We sang as the rotted things ripped and left
We danced to the heartbeat of the river
We slept with the murky depths surrounding
We breathed the clean air that ran above
We swam through antique transgressions
We coughed old water from weary lungs
We ached with the newfound strength
We reached across and fell in
We drifted down the pristine path
And thanked the gatekeeper as we passed

And I saw you one day
Burning in the pit of your
Careful mistakes
Dying through wasted breaths.
Every second branded into
Forgotten passion, your
Gross miscalculations apparent on your
Hide.
In that day
Just for a second
Killing you would have been kindness
Left instead to your
Monotony
Not the greatness you deserved.
Only God will remind me how
Painful it was to lose your
Quiet calm, the
Rest you filled my soul with.
Scars support what is left
Tossing me from sleep at night
Under the glaring judgment of stars,
Vindictive in their stares
Weary in their weight
Xenon-like because they don’t exist without
You and I together

But the story isn’t finished and I refuse to submit to structure,
Especially that made by stars that have forgotten what it was like
To be dust.

Alone in a bed
With arms wrapped around me.
Real, transparent arms.
The ghost of a memory hugging me.
Imaginary friend, where did you go?
You used to be real.
But what is real?
You’re here now, in my bed.
I still taste your cologne with my nose,
The smell of your last cigarette in my hair.
How did I get here?
Walking through this life alone,
You promised you’d always be here.
I can feel you still playing with my hair,
A hand caressing my knee.
You slayed dragons in my mind,
Set up fortresses that even make God proud.
But still.
The moonlight is my companion.
Wind the only whisper I hear.
Yet you are here
As I lay
Alone in a bed.

There is an ocean I swim in every night.
The water a gentle womb,
My body shrouded and lifted, pressed and forgotten.
I am lost in the waves that roar
The silent water whispering siren songs
That no mortals ask to hear.
There is an ocean that drowns me in my sleep.
Lava pours down my throat and burns my song to ashes,
Raging vengeance that seeks, but never finds, purchase.
I am gone in the bloodless ire
The embers twinkling with the knowledge
That I was once mortal.
There is an ocean where I stand
It is made of fragile glass, constantly shattering
Bleeding wounds cry out against the shards that tear
I feel in the crystalline night
The red stars surrounding my feet remind me
That I still have yet to bleed.
There is an ocean sinking my mind
Freezing water stabbing this intelligence
The assault has a soldier’s cadence and obedience
I perceive no reality in my tangible post
Darkness tracing my features with her loving embrace
That the mortal may fight and rise.

Save me, dear nightmare, from the monster I will become
Your darkness alone can shroud me.
Of blinding sun and free thinkings of the day no more,
Only to the shadows do I profess my intimacy.
Breathe your worst down my neck,
With scratches of your fingernails I implore you to infect
The spotted mind, the burning woman
Lost in her own vagrant fantasies.
Feel her fire coursing in dying veins, for,
You told me once that empty veins do burn.
I’d rather they burn than grow cold from lack of touch,
Explode with misplaced passion than be forgotten for later.
With a dying breath my sanity asks your permission
To be torn to shreds from these beasts in the night
Rather than let you meet that fate.
Take your whorish damsel, your hero friend, your family too
But remember the fiery heart that remained monstrous for you.

“State your full name for the record.”
       Already guilty before the impartial audience
“Please raise your right hand…”
       Do the hokey pokey, turn the truth around
“Remember, you are under oath.”
       For doing what was right, you’ll be punished to the end
“May the record reflect…”
       …That we couldn’t break this one.
“Call the next witness.”
       Since this one’s honesty bores us
“You are excused.”
       Oh how I wish that were true.