Disconnected syllables of broken names trying to be whole
fill my dreams and echo through my home
while the eyes of a billion childlike selves cast their judgement...
Who are you.
Dislocated limbs pile in corners of my room
and I've forgotten where each fits,
and to which long past figure they belong, but still their eyes question...
Who are you.
Disappearing thoughts leave mist in their wake
only remembered by their now empty space
and a distant weakening whisper...
Who are you.

Forget rabbit holes an brambles,
I have a nice neat doorway
you can step through
with a nice neat mat and
many smiling tenants to greet,
and we'll have such a good time
good clean fun with card games
and, if we're feeling risky, maybe a
touch of champagne.
Or *******.
And the kicker,
oh my ******* loving lord,
the piece de resistance,
is just how clean psychosis can be.
How neat and pink and rosy,
these yellow pills can keep you cozy.
Forget being mad, be happy.

feeling the sloping curve of your lips
stroking the cold brittle paper of your skin
gazing into your deadened graceless eyes
I can't help but think your beauty surpasses
any that one of the living could achieve.

I'll rate you bubbly, you rate me bogus
and we'll be happily fraudulent in our demise.

the coaxing leering laughter and the coke crusted smiles hold me together through my daily trials until the mountains fade and plains stretch far and my childhood chains resurface along with old scars.

lately i've been wondering how I'd look in court room,
fitted suits and clipped banter as i juggle right and wrong
another case another day another life flushed down the drain.

I like long walks on the beach
with your hand in mine
and the heady sensation
of finely aged wine
I like this smothering heat
and my toes in the sand
like the hot coals of hell
in an underground land
I like the feel of your bones
between my teeth and
the squish of your veins
and the life you breathe.