Innocence-
a myth,
a joke.
we are all but wolves in sheep's clothing.
blind cannibals blindly feeding on kin of flesh,
feeding on illusions and delusions.
you know you've seen it all,
when wolves bleat instead of howl,
grin and bleat "good",
when inside is a growl.

Lustrous tones,
and vibrant hue,
calls affection fingers,
clear and true.

Amber thorns,
guard beauties stem.
The more stunning the rose,
the sharper the ends.

there once was a true bloom
petals dripping off in tune
serving as playing pieces
affections unhealthy game

blood  red on satin black,
petals turn to silk; and are put back.

red is passion; also blood and pain
yellow is death; for sickly gains
white is purity; ready to be stained
yet cut out of silk,
they are all the same.

silken crimson
in place of roses red
live to the eye
yet to the touch, dead.

Here is insult to injury,
here is rock salt for your misery,
to further bruise and ****** needlessly.
Here’s salt for your wounds.

Here's the truth,
naked and uncouth,
tis simply th’ sooth.
Look not for sugared tongues and candied lips.

(Such are *******.)
Look not for chameleons, molded to fit,
Nor jesters dancing in horses bit.

Too eager to please, too scared for any risk.

the pain of rejection pre-forming it’s tunes,
driving away lady luck with whips and hardship.
making relations short, and conversation brisk.

The more I hear the more I’m disgusted,
by the fact that I have any relation to these.....
Crude creatures;
classless;
shameless beasts with no insight, or self reflection; no clue what they want; why they hurt; refusing to question;
refusing to even admit there's a problem to begin with.

Drugging themselves with god knows what.
Drowning themselves in that fondly and excessively drank poison,
we all love our al-co-hol,
but not our livers,
nor our lovers;
it seems.

why?

such things only numb the pain
pain one could avoid simply by confronting it;
addressing the problem,
and dealing with it.

so what use is simply numbing pain;

again why?

the hour you go without a visit from mistress jane
the minute your foul intoxicating stream(river?) runs out;
the second your angel stops giving you her dust to snort from her bust;
the millisecond you lose the trail of the golden dragon

it has you by the throat
pain.
memories.
guilt.
shame.
humiliation.
pain.
memories.­
guilt.
shame.
humiliation.
{viscous cycle is it not?}
the sick little game is over.
the hiding is over.
guess what!
life has found you-
and it always will.

morphine, *** and *****
crack, acid and shrooms
lovely playing pieces
lovely game
but in the end, it will end
all games end someday.

Let me keep my wagon,
let me keep my horse and cart-
your bullet train pulling me along,
is pulling it apart.
quick quick
hurry scurry
this rushing along,
is leaving me behind,
losing me,
he who prefers not to sprint.
he who is of a slow steady gait.

lost time is time lost
and idle thoughts feed on things as these
affections turn to annoyance
patience to pain
speak all you like
it’s almost too late
not much time remains
before apathy shows her face
stealing me away
from our waiting game
take your turn,
with a simple caveat
the rules forget not-
---
once a week
and all is fair play
exceed this-
and the game rules twist-
and change.
come roll the dice
see if it’s fatal
this twist of time

---
find what time has been lost
make it if you must-
remember-
patience to pain
and apathy’s sweet foreplay
leads to ashes to ashes
and dust to dust.

Bloop went the raisins as the fell one by one into the buttery goodness.
The liquid fat burning on the heated metal like so many soiled babies locked in a room together; with nothing to eat but each other;
jumping off the bridge of life one by one to keep the others alive;
leaving just one massively obese baby
(well not a baby anymore, but a child.
As it would take several years for them to all eat each other until only this one morbidly,
massively disgusting creature remained.
After all his were brothers gone, calling for food
only to be found by some kind soul
who later donates his body to send the child to a state mental institution.
As the man is found partially eaton and the child goes free on the basis of insanity.
however the mans family never forgets him though his wife eventually remarries.
She is as ill fated as her husband; less fortunate as they never found her body
(she was ground up and fed to her pigs).

And through her spirit the pigs became sentient;
and though her body was never found.
The pigs went to the police and told them about the ******-
but when the officer tried to arrest the ex-husband there was not enough evidence;
and the insistence that talking pigs had told him about the ******;

landed the officer in the same institution as the child;
in adjoining cells.
Where they conversed my smashing their heads into wall speaking morse code.
Through the child the officer learned how to become immortal
(as the child was in fact a genius having absorbed the intelligence of an entire room of babies prior to being locked in his cell)
The officer also learned how to teleport ,
but the pigs had told him how to do that; not the child.

After escaping their cells, the officer and the child went to go find the pigs.
But were sad to learn they had built a rocket and flown to mars;
and would return in several thousand years when mankind was more tolerant.
A local mongoose had revealed all this too them.
Only later did they learn from a cross breed of a hawk and a pidgin that the rocket had crashed.
And none of the pigs had survived.
heart broken the officer and the child mourned for many years-
their tears forming what is now the great lakes.

Where the child and officer still live to this day in an underwater lab,
conducting experiments on rocks from mars (their rocket did not crash).
As the world moved on the two continued to do research-
until they had a break through. Cloning the life that had originally built the canals on mars.
Emerging with the little creature stunning the scientific world
and giving the two instant world wide fame.
As the founders of the great lakes and the bellwethers to the third scientific revolution,
but unfortunately they both perished when their lab flooded.
they were greatly missed.
and in the afterlife they had endless parties with their friends; the pigs.
Though the kind farmer never forgave the child for eating his brain over buttered raisin bread.

I’m a rooster!
Crowed the happy man.
As then men in white helped him fly,
To the happy can!
Where he could eat,
All the Campbell’s soup he liked,
And crow like a rooster;
Be it day or be it night.
They gave him his own jacket;
One of charming white.
And a matching mask of steel and cloth,
When he began to bite.
Crow he did,
Day and night.
Till a needle in his arm;
gave his guardian angel’s ears,
Sweet silence’s delight.
Needle, mask, and white;
Day by day; night by  night,
The rooster in his mind took flight.
When at last; away hobbled the beak-
He was in his pointed box.
And had began to reek.
It said,
if you go,
To his grave at dawn,
And knock trice times slow;
You can still hear him crow