This architecture of oppression, will begin to crumble
And will crush us all into pools of maroon, intestines spilled as leaves

I hope when we crown our court jester, to be the king of this wretched land

That he sets fire to everything standing, poisons every river

For we will have deserved it, for our years of hate and ignorance

Sickness is the laces of our words we burn into skins

Meandering like scholars in this play yard of our generational whims

We will soon have to reap what we sowed, in our irony and inactivity

All for the sake of status and hedonistic introspection

Staring into that foggy curtain
That drapes across the forest window
Hiding all the creatures in cloaks
Blurring all the paths with annoyance
So you must walk as a stranger
In a land made of twilight shadows
With you eyes focused to the ground
Your hands gripping at themselves
Waiting for the surprise to strike
And cut your throat in a shower of maroon
But all the while you must remanin stoic
Lest you find yourself no longer on a path
But in a maze

Standing on borders
Of all that is light
And off that is dark
Do you see man
Jumping across
Bleeding between two worlds
In his hand he holds bread
In his heart holds blackness
One finger to the sun
And one on a trigger
And before you can see the truth
He slips into the confusion
And we are left afraid

Under all the rubble, does the light still flicker from the gas lamp
A remnant of hope, that lays in the shatters of once standing prides
All that screams, is now silenced by the ash coming from the destruction
But the gas lamp still remains, waving its flag of war in bright orange and yellow

In the wake of the dogwoods death
Does the woods around mourn in whispered sobs
For it was the catalyst of the point
To where this empire of green
Could look upon to gain the wisdom of peace
Now that the dog wood lay rotted and scattered
On the ground of dead leaves and fox trails
Does the forest tremble in fear
For the chaos to come

Staring into that foggy curtain
That drapes across the forest window
Hiding all the creatures in cloaks
Blurring all the paths with annoyance
So you must walk as a stranger
In a land made of twilight shadows
With you eyes focused to the ground
Your hands gripping at themselves
Waiting for the surprise to strike
And cut your throat in a shower of maroon
But all the while you must remanin stoic
Lest you find yourself no longer on a path
But in a maze

m sorry I couldn’t produce a fantasy

To give away those awful memories

That you had been given so many times

But the world can’t grant those things

And I am not a mystic

Even if it seems to be harsh

All that can be done

Is to keep going

Rare it seems that I am, a creature of idiosyncratic eccentricities

To some it is a badge of individuality, a crest of creative virtue

For this soul, it seems to be nothing more than just sorrow

To wade around in the waters of humanity, floating with stunted breathing

Never catching on to limbs, rocks that could become my sanctum

Looking at the sky in hurt, wishing to float away from it all

To see the infinite wonder of the cosmos, where I feel I would belong

And maybe it is an attitude of naivety and pretentiousness that I carry

But no joy is taken from it, only dread and somber rains in my hands

And hurt is given to others, from this

The room painted in crimson
The body posed with biblical grace
Heavy breathes are the only presence
A stunted panic in them
There stands the beast
Or so we would say
But as human as the rest of us
Why it occured?
That is where the pain lies
Not in the death
But in the meaning

Here is what is craved, the sensation of seeing the blood, the lifeless flesh of something once person
The blood that seeps from the open head wound, the scattered matter of brain that paints against the ground
Like a lullaby for our apathetic ears, we tune in to the morbid display of death
Look for the pain, in the face that is blown off, can you see the fear?
Only do you see flesh, bloodied flesh, ripped and shredded
Is their satisfaction yet? I hope it can come quick
Was it worth this? Can you appease that fanatic hunger?
Listen to the lullaby we create for you, our electronic, angelic hum
Feed the black claw that reaches from your skin
To touch the corpse of your satisfaction

Here is the pit

Where the bodies are stacked

From the endless battles

Son’s and daughters sent to the earth

No savior, no redeemer

Only the grasp of the earth

Shrouds follow the confused

Prey unaware to their fates

Walking to an unknown

That they never will see

In the summer, all those lies told take flight in the gleaming sky, soaring like dreams of better innocence

But when the winter comes, those lies roost in the trees, and the eyes see them

In that harsh chill, does the still honesty bring back those lies, and the truth roosts right next to your window

The pain of losing, is never something you can adjust to
It’s always a knife into the veins, tiring your senses, bleeding your tears
It is only when you learn of the trials, do you know that it is natural, and sadly inevitable
But we must remain steady, for life does not stop in the blizzard for us
We must follow it’s footsteps
Or be lost

When the wind brushes against the windows, the sunlight halo settles on the green grass below it
There your voice will be, as subtle as the rain that falls in the evening grey, so calm and timid on the blades of the small churches
And when the wind goes away, the crunching of the dead leaves will be your steps, as you walk eternally through your wooded kingdom
You have become the princess of the forest, you have become the spirit of the animals, the protector of the trees
The flowers bloom as your eyes, the petals the color of your smile, the stem your arm reaching to hold me close
You have become the infinite universe, you have become the stream of life, that river which flows through all of our mortal bodies
Never will I see the sadness upon your face, for you will always be in the majesty of the pines, the grace of the weeping willows
The fox will be your words, the orange of it’s tail the hums you will sing all along through those woods
And when I find myself in the tendrils of darkness, weeping hollow tears into the palms of my hand
You will be the moon, shining on the crowns of the trees, singing me a midnight song in the silent solace

cigarettes were made for the poets

Alcohol made for the writers

Drugs made for the actors

*** made for the painters

Vices all created

To the self appointed one’s

Of art’s vast wasteland

Time is cold, it is passive
It leaves scars on the glass
And erosion on the nail

Here is were the bodies rot
Under the gravel, under the lot’s
As the sun burns the flesh around
None of those griefs make a sound
So much is the way things can be
Futile and barren, under a willow tree
And the devil sits with tobaco in pipe
And he will leave his mark, at first light

Oil runs in the veins
Coats the teeth black, makes the lungs ashes
It filters the morals with an axe, it makes the ground barren
It becomes an ocean filled with blood, and the shores scattered with bones
A catalyst for the grip, that wraps around the throat and chokes
In the desperate hours, it becomes like a drug
A ****** unlike any kind, it’s a most vicious bite

We lost ourselves a long time ago

What stands isn’t bone and flesh, no pulse, no feeling

Something very jaded, apathetic, bitter

Maybe it was always that way

And those hurricane songs washed the paint away

To reveal the cracks that were always present

And when another body lies dead in the locust’s pit

Will walk over it, like it never was anything

But a body

I’ve tried looking to the horizon

But it’s blocked by a smokestack

So I’ll stand here and rust

And just sleep, until I become nothing

The king of sorrow

I sit on a bench made of bird wings

WIth a crown made of ***** leaves

I call out to a land, that cares not for me

Maybe there is something, wrong with my rule

Why there is so much loneliness, I don’t know

I’ll sit on this bench, and shed tears all the day

King sorrow, I’ll die and lay

Over head there is bombers, they shake the houses with their roar
There is an end coming soon, one of beautiful madness
The sun is blocked out, and the world becomes dark
And the candlelight, whispers a song, for the coming hellfire

I stand in a bathtub of oil
I light a match, in slow action
And set it on fire
I go to sit down
And bathe in the flames
To cleanse myself
Of my pasts and regrets
For maybe if I survive
The skin of my former selves
Will have burned off
And I will be something new

How soft that world felt
It was something very different
No meandering in darkness
Just walking among the sunlight

But it was only temporary
It was never to last
And with my heavy eyes
I stared at a sun

Inside the skull, of the forgotten oak

Do I sit calmingly, and listen to its ghosts

For they talk, of most wonderful tales

And the winter winds, construct the tone

I constructed a piano, out of dead leaves and pine needles

Frail it was, pitiful it looked

But I played it without shame, as most as I could

To create sounds, to my desolate landscape

And for a moment

Break away, the chains of the lonely sin

The rains is falling harder

And it is become acidic

Now my skin is just matter

Disappearing away, becoming thin

I am the messenger of exhuastive sighs, the wondering bard of the tooling mind

Closely I thread my skin, into the sanity of a self that never has pulsed electric movements

I am the ghost of a present, that was never real

Only a past, wearing a suit of terrocata

Time is mere dreams, that rewind and loop consistently

Like waves to a beach, endless it becomes

It is a tool we use, to make sense of this chaos

This space we call life, in all its whims and terrors

We progress to a future always unsure, never knowing if the past is really past

Like a stone in focus, sitting on the edge of a riverbank

The water goes on, and yet you seem to stay

As if time has left you, out of the stream of linear dreams

So you dream those looping dreams, for it must be the way we are

Maybe this is the desire, to not have those dreams any more

Or if they were ever dreams, just sins that became something real

We attack the tender hearted, and pretend we hold their values like our own

The honesty is, we like to pretend we are good people, and wear that mask to judge

We are not a generous, commpasionate society

We are not this glistening humanity

We are a dark primordial sludge, that still values our reptilian hedonistic desires

Over what is right

That is always how it has been

Everything begins at zero

All beginnings, never start with one

Zero is the inception

The eternal nothingness

The unsure fate

The restless abyss

The infinite zero

The human will has become proxies

Morbid terracota’s left to their own whims

Once the mind held liberties of peace and progression

Now the flesh is all that resides

It seeks the greed of Jesus, the ignorance of faith

The blood of the innocent, the denial of patriots

It is a program that follows orders

Set by the hivemind that created it

We are not a nation of equal happiness

We are something crueler, something darker

We are a breathing husk, rotting from disease

Self-inflicted from the sins of our elders

Now we pay the devils due, the young and cynically aware

Our agony will not be our triumph

We will await a future

Set aflame

By our parents

Our elders

Our protectors

Our

Humanity

The sky painted in oil and blood

dripping down against my forehead

I am a chemical division, a science of erratic nodes

Swallow of another pill, to keep my mind from the depths

I am a bard without a mouth, a fox without its wit

There’s too many stories, that will be told

Of when we were okay, and when things were clear

But those times are over, and we no longer stand under oil lamps

I wish you all the lighting, that the thunder can offer you

For we must make our departure, we must meet at the crossroads

I’ll head towards the mountains of soot, you swim those rivers of unknown

And I know that I will be blinded, by the black mist in the air

But I will have known that, I was able to separate from a poison root

I don’t wish you ill or pestilence, only that you go

We have taken up too much time, more than Ulysses

This is our swam song, so lets finish please

This is a forgotten moment, lets start forgetting now

There is much to feel good about, in our modern age

But there is chaos, in this present time

When the citizens of this nation, wish to elect a miserable jester

To be a leader

We see ignorance at such ridiculous heights

There’s always a still, before you take to sleep

When the mind goes blank, and you grasp the lonliness

And you feel the weight of the world, for a moment

And you can feel the collapse, in your lungs

Some call it awareness, others call it stress

Maybe it’s just reality

Reach to the mist

That lingers in the air

Grasp it softly

And let it carry you

How faint the birds chirp, the wind brushed against the grass

My body weak from the walk here, to the hill I expell my stresses

Sitting at the top, looking out to the sea of trees

The birds follow me as I walk, giving me songs to keep my energy

They lower their song to a hum, for they know I enjoy the solitude

How I envy the melody they carry, how natural and gorgeous it is

Looking out with my wishes on my tongue

I speak them to the breeze, so that the wishes may travel

To somewhere else, were they may come true

How I saturate in the flames of chaos, and sit calmly with a cup of tea

How I spit out my vicious blood, and watch it spiral to the abyss

For chaos is real, but so am I

I sat with the devil, over tea and plates of lemon squares, why he must inflict so much pain

So much suffering

He looked at me shocked, and said he was not the cause, for he had been on vacation

I asked for how long

He said the moment God exiled him from Heaven

I asked what he did in Hell then

He said watch re-runs of 227

Is your hate for fat individuals truly so? Or are you merely expelling what hate you have for yourself

Why does their happiness upset you so? Is this because you envy what they have? Or are trying to get?

For I know they are fully aware of themselves, is it really about their health? Or is it just… Sorrow of the self

This nation does not value, our fellow citizens of color, in reality it never has

Denial is quite the dessert for those that are oppressing, but truth is an acid, that burns all materials

This is a nation of wolves, feeding on the meek that have no ways, to combat the rules they force

Be in the party of denial, that is quite okay, just don’t expect respect or decency

For you are as guilty as the oppressor, for you are the problem, not a solution

Give me all your cosmos

For I need to get lost in eternity

To find something called

Happiness and stability