Passing through people
Is scarier for me than it is them.  
They feel cold for a second.
          I feel infinitely alone.

I shake them and they don't move.
I try and kiss her eyes closed.
She doesn't even blink. I sink
              into my nothingness

I think just as they do.

I feel like them too.
But whenever our paths cross.

I pass right on through

Today:
My heads a little cloudy.
Don't think it will rain though.

Run your mouth till it runs off
and bites off her tongue.
Words flung like phlegm from
the bottom of blackened lungs.

The singing hero becomes the unsung.

The name don't ring bells,
it breaks down the house door.
Lays the residents down flat
on the floor. Panicked to their core.

Then cracked tiles snap.
Falling through the floor, as the
water pours. Floods the basement,
drowns the poets and the dwelling.

Smelling the decomposing, the
neighbours dread the scenes gore.
A simple drug scandal?
Or the ****** of a *****?  

For years they couldn't bare
to think for any more than two
seconds about what stories played
out behind that door.

But their tongues twisted truth
like it was a noose for a neck.
No empirical evidence, yet told
all when the police did inspect.

Funny how the mind winds fiction
out of nothing but simple prediction.

One for the morning.
Instructions in the same print
as the side effect warning.

One for the pain.
Another into the vein.
And another,
just so every day stays the same.

One to fill sunshine
In days consumed by rain.
And another
as you lay in bed cold & slain.

Overdoses- the closest
You ever came to seeing it.  
You're able, already a being fit
for purpose.

Our arrogance deceives us.
It blinds us in our walk.
Those poor souls believed us.
They recite us as we talk.

The circles are in motion,
The potions all been taken.
The purpose wasn't spoken
It was entirely mistaken.

Misinterpreted; lovers hating
love like it was over stating
itself. And harvested wealth
like it was the only thing
more important than health.

We are broken.
Our arrogance deceives us.
We are not chosen.
Why did they believe us?

There’s a place in the corner of my eye that is only for me. It’s cluttered, a real mess, with things piled on top of each other precariously.  As much as I try and ignore it it is always there lurking reminding me of things to do, things I haven’t and things I will never do. And this corner is growing, taking over my sight;

Pretty soon I’ll be blinded by my yesterdays, my fears, my dreams and my love.

But at least one eye will be kept clear and I will try and see clearly through it. Until the yesterdays become today, my fears appear real, my dreams drown and my love succumbs to pettiness- tainted by green.

Without sight I’ll soar through darkness; spinning, twisting and evolving my other senses. Melody will paint my memories to keep me pushing through my plight, Hair pricking soft fingers will flood my head with colours.

But that fowl stench will linger. The cluttered abandoned mess doesn’t rest in its decomposition. It will invade my other senses until my false expectations appear real.

blood thin. her arm was at ease,
but cooked in her mind were beings like fleas.  
They only grew fowler, more putrid with the heat.  
she only grew weaker as you do in defeat.
well when you accept it anyway,
Ive known a thing or two about it
but she couldn’t hear me through curses she was shouting.
I guess that was the hardest thing:
My mind would keep guessing
as the fleas were surfacing.  

So thats why I put her at ease.
For her head was for bed,  so take her now please.
My own head is sweating, I need her still and to sleep.
So take her now please, before they burrow deep.