I'm not the man in my words,
I'm just the man in my mind.
No, I'm not the man that you heard
In my sentences, poems and lines.
I'm not the man of emotions
That you see or that you read,
I can't accept the notion
That these feelings come from me.
I'm not some broken artist
Or some once forgotten poet,
I'm just an empty shell
Although I didn't even know it.
I just don't see the point
Of writing rhythm, soul or rhyme.
I just don't see the point,
And yet, I do it all the time.

Trembling fingers, silence lingers,
Scarlet forehead, love-struck horror.
Lacing fingers, getting closer,
Too much perfume, lip explorer.

Public figure, steel concussion,
****** sidewalk, broken nation.
Catching glances, false romances,
hands all over, copulation.

Vivid nightmare, cruel black raven,
in the alley, final blessing.
Skin and heartbeats, never retreats,
never ending, sweet caressing.

Stumbled right on through my crooked door-frame,
Took your jacket off and put in that thing.
You could not reply when I asked your name,
Knew your name was Harry without asking.

Laid with me, your head was in my blanket,
Helped you and you didn't even hear it.
Left you with a chrome and crystal trinket,
Pins and needles meant to ***** the spirit.

You fell into me just with a mention.
Bubbling lava meant a sure transgression.
Your eyes never fully paid attention.
These white walls they channeled your aggression.

Love you say, it slept beneath my ceiling.
All I saw was lust without the passion.
She left you, your bleeding heart was reeling,
Then you asked me for another ration.

Where did all the time we spent together?
Why do all the moments run in circles?
Did I tell you I was there whenever?
Who could ever help you cross those hurtles?

Since I've crumbled you don't even notice,
Even when I saw you standing right there.
Dreamed I was your dream, I was your lotus,
Now I see I'm nothing but a nightmare.

I hate my, hate my, hate my...what?
Never mind, my hate is shut.
Want to **** it, **** it...why?
I can't because this ****'s a lie.
Burn it, trash it, leave it...how?
My spineless hands, they won't allow.
You don't, you don't, you don't...do you?
It's okay, I see right through you.

How do I change this passion into burning love?
I want to rip your eyes out but I want to be your drug.
Somehow, someway, I want to hurt
Make you suffer at my leisure
Your eyes, they make me want to flirt
And not just for  the pain or pleasure
Can I take this black frustration,
Turn it into copulation?
I'll kiss you then I'll tear off your lips,
******* then I'll slit your throat.
Grab your hair and grab your hips,
Pull you close in your leather coat.
Do you see the ice in my eyes now,
Do you see the cold on my heart now?
Ooo, I want to feel your blood,
Ooo, I want to feel your love,
I don't want to hurt you, sweetie,
I just want to take your life.

Ode to beauty, sick and dying
Ode to truth, but it is lying
Song for the birds, song for the waves
Song for the bodies that fill up the graves
Poem for love, poem for hate
Rhymes for perfection that isn't so great
Sonnet to ******, frustrating tension
Sonnets for feelings I don't need to mention
Ballads and limericks, it's all just the same
Untitled pieces, art with no name
Sing for the broken but sing not to heal
Sing to relieve but don't sing to reveal
Words on the paper or words in your head
Don't worry for words, all the letters are dead