Honey, you're a dark force
and I'm a dark horse,
maybe we can run together.

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 think.. I think I dreamt about you.
Or maybe its a memory...
just a remnant of your face
your silhouette before me
its dark and cool but temperate
and shadows dance upon your face
while my head plays that familiar
song repeatedly.

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

I don't believe in angels or heaven or hell, not honestly.
I don't believe in forever or in life or in death.
I've become a non-entity of self loathing for my lacking purpose.
Its worse when I'm alone.
I hate those people, the ones like myself.
They're pathetic and annoying and utterly loathsome little beasts.
So whiny and emotional.
Who the **** needs purpose anyway?

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.

Now I lay me down to sleep
Now the dreams will conquer me
Smoke that swirls is my death
My sweet sweet sin
There's nothing left
Now I lay my head to rest
And hope I may
For death in dreams
I know we're young
But we're not free
Not to die as we please.
So I'll smoke these cigarettes
Offer them my soul
And in exchange
They'll swallow me whole
This is the death I choose.
Amen.

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.

I need somewhere to roam
where my dark thoughts can be
without judgement.

No one seems to get my humour,
apparently my suicidal thoughts
aren't funny

My cynicism has seeped into my veins
and now my heart beats to its awful cadence
and I've found comfort in its crude caress

i see love and light and cringe
at its generic quality, all the same
all beautiful and endearing and encouraging
and i can't help but feel the cynic in me laughing
at the mawkish displays and efforts
and at my own generic skepticism

just one charming quality of my
self deprecating form of narcissism

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

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

I dream of ******.
My mistress, my mother.
******, ****** my dear...

I dream of Chaos.
My friend and my brother.
Chaos let them shake in fear....

I dream of Death
My reflection, my other.
Staring at me in the mirror...

I dream of Uncertainty
Or I think I do...
My father, oh father....
What shall we do..............

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.

You don't know the half of it
and I don't know the whole
so maybe in the middle we can meet
and compare notes.

My home is in the dark
the light will not abide
my home is stark and white
the world is standing by

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

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.

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.

a righteous contradiction
I'll hold your interest long
enough to captivate your soul.

Dragon flies and lanterns
cast shadows through my mind
causing jesters on the wall
to cautiously unwind,
with a heavy heart of liquor
I beg them to go on,
do try to heal my soul
its fallen, maybe gone.

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.

She's a boss *** *****
with diamonds in her eyes
and mercury flowing over her skin.
When she walks the world
tumbles, crumbles, easily humbled.
She's got a devil's tongue
with a lick of fire in her veins
and she's all I've ever
dreamt of being.

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

Oh honey, you'll be fine
divine and holding out hope
an angel with no god, no home.
Oh babe your ignorance
looks so good on you
stay steeped in wholesome lies
safe from dreadful truth.
Oh sweetheart, your dumb
******* head is so perfect,
so rottenly pure, its mawkish
scent brings me to my knees.

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...

I don't know who I am.
And I know I never have.
For some reason its hitting me harder than before,
or at least from what I remember.
I remember it being bad when my mom was a wreck
and I, a strictly A student, received my first F.
I remember it being bad when my first step dad left,
and the weird assurances he made that he wouldn't abandon me.
I never thought he would, until he tried to reassure me.
But the earliest memory I have of not knowing myself, of it being bad,
was when I was little, in court, because my dad wanted to adopt me,
and a man I'd never met wouldn't let him.
I was young, and I realized I didn't know who I was.
I was 12 and I didn't know who I was.
I was 16 and I didn't know who I was.
Now I'm 20 and I don't know who I am.
My mom was 36, and didn't know who she was.
I'm writing this as documentation.
A thought taken down, so as not to be forgotten.
All sorts of people talk about forgetting who they are,
and finding themselves again.
I want my future self to know, that as of yet,
I've never known who I was.

You're undeniable, deplorable and ultimately a hoax
that speaks to me on that superficial level that's sunk below

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.