If I listen quietly
past the creaking of this cave
I hear a monster, violently,
digging its own grave.

If I wait a minute more
Its tears will fade away
And all that's left is stupid lore
A monster steeped in gray

I love all things dark all provoking, touching, reaching, slightly beyond the bounds of the normal where the light will naturally shine.
I want all things beautiful all lovely, lingering, eternal, lifting high into the cloudy kingdoms of fairy and extraterrestrial.
I am all things lost all removed, confusing, unsure, stepping lightly in the alleys and the rooms of both strange and familiar places.

I wish the three knew how to collide in peaceful but pleasing resonance.

I don't know what I'm saying
drunk and covered in fur
I'm lulled and stupefied.

Dark languid creatures in dark lavish rooms, Lost listless voices pulsing as one, with no past, no future, Gliding above the ground, blood thrumming As one, the crowds, the masses, voluntarily deaf and dumb.

You're gone again and I know the feeling, a familiar lingering pain.
I knew you'd leave, it's not your fault, but it hurts all the same.
They say you're doing good, serving our country's valiant goals...
but the system is corrupt and its hard to pretend we're not selling souls...

Tummy full of worms and mind full of death
A wriggling roiling pain and painfully bad breath
I am not your babe nor a pristine lass
But I’m certainly the skinniest in this ****** up class

In the mirror I am grown.  Fully, and wholly, a human being.
Looking inwards I am small. 12 years old, marveling at the person I’ve become, and the person I somehow was and still am.
Separate, side by side, I exist on multiple planes, in many directions, through all dimensions, different but constant.
The same.

Windy blues and tortured greys, my nights are leaking into days, and over mountains cold and dreary, my bones are shaking, dry and weary.
I pray you hold your flesh close by, lest it catch the wind and fly.

I open my eyes to glowing stars
I close them to racing cars
Lights, lights in the dark

a drum beat thrums beneath my skin, steady,
tense and straining.
a widow dances deep within screaming of
death and rot.
with rhythmic steps and flashes of black
blood thickens...
expiration date determined, i eagerly await
my turn.

Your mood is mellow meek mild
until its not
You don't explode ignite enrage,
you simmer
You seep and poison and spread

A broken heart and seering pain bring words carved of gold and dripping in honey. To attain true art one must either die for it or lose a soul, as the cost of worthless beauty is everything and nothing at all. I hope you know I died for you.

Useless duplicitous skill rotting from within as you shun this world.
Your worth lies in creation, rendition, replication. Everything imitating another.
And without you, really, nothing changes. All that's lost is carbon copy, and I think we're all weary of repetition.

Give me a dream in ****** white I'll give you a love that's pure and tight.
Hold my hand and treat me nice and I'll try not to turn to my typical ice.

he was a desperate and lonely plea in the dark, she a nervous laugh and waning spark
together they scared one another off but contrast bade them compliments
and one without the other leaves a bad taste in my mouth

These many scars whisper I should have died young.

As I observe from my slate perch I can't help but wonder
if we're all meant to be old
or if some of us feel this discomfort in grown worlds
because we've passed our expiration date.

a knife in hand
wouldn't turn your head
strewn on the floor
you would leave me dead
with little notice
for the girl in red.

I hold you in the highest esteem
I hold you in the dark of night
I wish you held me.

you swallow glass to
cleanse your insides
and make room for
clear cut crystals.
holding hope out
in a dish for more
more high flying
death defying
pixie dust.

I am neither good nor bad,
Happy nor sad,
Ethereal and wordless
I transcend to
Nothingness.

I'm not the kind to let things go
I'm of a type that breaths in snow
and lets it build to glaciers .

For an excessively passive person
I'm easily annoyed, easily appalled.
People are so stupid, vapid, mediocre
and you know its true so you try to
be deep and meaningful, dramatic
to justify how absolutely and inevitably
pathetic you are.

You're out on the porch smoking again
and I'm in here alone hoping for the end
and slowly but surely we're both seeking death

I'm surrounded by people in similar states
and yet I'm the only one of my tastes...
I'm the only company I've ever known.

There is a cadence to life and its subsequent death
a cadence to strife and inevitable depth
and as I watch your eyes go dark
and as I wait for the still of your heart,
I know that you are the key to my life
and a craving for yours is simply my right.

A carcass of saffron rotting daringly in the streets
as the masses slow and drag their feet
to see its splendor, its grossly awesome continuance
after a decidedly less so existence.

What are you going to do
when everything you thought you knew
turns away and leaves you to the wolves.
What are you going to do
when the plans you once drew
are no longer legible.
What are you supposed to do
when your psyche turns to something new
and the voices in your head are no longer familiar.
What are you supposed to do
when you find out red is really blue
and you're a muddled shade between.

Feeling the thrum of ignorance and bliss warm my veins
and the cadence of rebellious refrain guide my steps
I can't imagine feeling any worse or better than I do right now.

I'm nothing more than everything
you ever wished that I  could be
I'm nothing less than a hoarse scream
that echoes through your empty dream.

There's glitter in the gutter
and your snowy steps won't help but slip
across the narrow beaten path
despite there careful hopeful placement

I'm always down, the gutter's my home
and the streets are strewn with plastic
and old cigarettes and syringes as always
but today I felt that friendly old surge
of an abnormal normalcy, as though
my ragged surroundings had elevated
to the level of the common folk.

I live for my manic high points.

I'll paint you a brain and a heart and some thoughts
I'll draw up some plans for a life that lacks rot
and you'll learn how to learn and to walk and to talk
you'll learn how to live in a life riddled with fraught
you'll stumble and fail and feel boisterous hope
only to die with a heart unable to cope.

I spent years spinning straw into gold,
weaving a cast to make myself whole
to guard and heal these once brittle bones
but you make me feel stupid and soft and squishy
and sappy and mawkish and awkward and pretty
like a vapid princess in my black tower
you, dumb prince were meant for the living
but stubborn and young and without misgiving
you fell from the light and the grace of the gods
to be with a girl with many facades.

I thought you knew my lowly mind was too sick for your strife
I thought you knew if you were hurting I would take the knife
You're a more perceptive being, you know how small I am
You're a beautiful enigmatic storm and I'm a mere flurry.

I, a puddle on the floor
lying lowly evermore,
while solid structures
rise above and worry
little about flood.

You don't realize how hard it is to be effortless.

You're a stumbling fumbling child
with pretty words lacking context
and an pretty face lacking depth.
You hold your head high as you
spout loudly with an air of intellect
that would only fool those without
such an inclination.

Its a good thing you're pretty.

I'm a lost cause
with a crush on frost
and a fear of the cold.

Hold me closer
hold me tight
close my eyes
and **** my fight
let me sleep
let me fall
I don't think
you cared
at all.

our spindly legs carry us far
and brittle bones make for light cargo,
with sweeping steps and toppling grace
who cares if the skin sinks deep in our face.
you're all pigs, rolling in mud
and here we tower, watch from above
sure bones are sickly and skin translucent
what a small price to pay to rise above your dirt.

hold my heart between your teeth, and squeeze until I know
that love is dumb and blind and feral, and sappy gooey sentiment
is only present in the blood it spills.

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.

I have a fleeting mind of a higher grade,
and no one to sharpen my wit on,
so I seek conversation in the saddest places
where depth is a trend and people wear melancholy as fashion.