I saw the future and it was seeping with despair.
The women forever held there breaths as the children longed for death.
The men drunkenly gouged logic from everyone's head
Consumed The logic then fell, falling, dead.
And it continued for none of them cared.

And the
And the mountains echoed
And then there were none
And the band played on
And the waters turned to blood.

He laid in the sun
    like he ruled the earth,
    he held onto the
wine bottle
     with a hand heavily scared
      with the marks
of suffering.

    He toasted the
sea and the surf,
    cursed the
gulls and the gnats.

     Then brought the bottle
to his dried and
cracked
lips and drank
as if the
    last grape
     of the world had
let its blood
     into his bottle.

     He laughed at
a memory
     then yelled at
the sun and
       everyone around
him was a peasant.

    His lips bled red
as he gulped mouth
fulls of wine.
The memory of
her along this very beach
caused his inner
rage to drum forth.

     He gripped handfuls
of sand as he silently
Dammed the serpents
all to Hell.

  He mumbled drunken
thanks to
    Minerva, Osiris, Hera
     and Anu.

      The shadowed world
looked down upon him
     and the feral cats adored him.
     He lived like true royalty,
drunk and alone.

Care free and forgotten
he had become once
he had awoke to it all.
Ridiculed and labeled CRAZY
for his ability to see
it all for what it really
was,for what it really
still is.

She left this page
on a Saturday as he
slept on a chair
beside her hospital bed.
He buried her
on a Tuesday,
then set about to
drinking.

He broke free
of it all,
detached himself
from this farce
and
set about to wonder.
Now free of the
pollution they call society,
he waited only
on the next life,
on that next page.

Where she had promised him
they'd meet again...

hope called through a
window's pane, the scratch
marks in the single glaze
opens my letters; they
sit down to honeyed
conversation out in
the back yard. my throat
rakes small tendrils
billowing up through
the gravel, i slumber
cradled between soft
hot patches of afternoon, i
call nobody lover but misery,
still.

moribund, late light
crosses the neighbour's
rose bushes and cries
from the fenceline. all
is broken like me, but i
do it better. that, i promise.

now, finally slowing in eyelid
beat counts, my dreams tell
truths of my own small life; the
ones i won't dare live by, but
instead lay down and watch
ribs lain below
asbestos skin: i lose
hope's screaming in the garden,
knowing no fingers would want to
cross their lines,
who'd edge up to ****** up
tired little i?

I am a thief.
I am a child who doesn't know what he wants.
I am a ******.
I am a lost.
I am the cause every trouble.
I am not worthy.
I am nothing.

And yet I try to prove it all wrong.

Liking the Straight guy
Is like liking the white wall
It's there to amuse
but won't catch if you fall.