Everything was as it was when  was was at its everything.
The prance of the gay and the love to dance had made its way through death and trance.
Yet life yet sprum from wherein it bloom,
its fancy's can
oh spare the timids tomb.
"Here i lay," i yell i yell.
"Here i bay the fickle and moot!"
"Still i play on mornings fooot!"

Stop.

And all was quiet for a quip and a yup,
although for the wassits,
was was enough.

knife sinks in
a smile spread across the lips.
Like cancer, it ate.
Like a maggot, it ate.
Undermining god
if you shall take such a bold stand,
might you have a glorious decent.
Voices raised in cheer
daggers glint and fly in honor
the machete drips the tips
of the fingers held to high
and the guillotine promised,
“your knees are where you lie.”  

The tongues of the wall  lashed out.
Hoping,
no.
praying,
no.....

They fell their own for the touch of a soul.
To lick its sides
like the ***** to the bull
they envy the eyes
of the martyrs idiocy
and honor the flies
in hopes of validity.

How do i lay this into you?
Eye with eyes and ears for naught,
yet i can not stop wondering.
The sun will never rise in the west.

Passed myself again to yearn.
I empty the cesspit and polished the edges, "good sir!"
Oh, i want to fill your treasure troves to the eye with ****.
Empty my throat for promises; tongue forked to pussyfoot the bits at the zenith of your bone plates.

Out my throat a night-crawler pirouettes.
Up the spiral on waves ridden only by an igno-rant; terrified.
to say sorry for the plague.
Oh yes he OWES YOU!
Owes you only the pock and rust.

to see something else broken,
and then to feel your own cracks.

the shattered lines that form the distinction
of me vs you.

Coronary arteries, ******* ****
like smokers ******* cancer sticks.
All pulled apart to find
that gorilla glue is thicker than *****

what connection is there in falling apart?
When the pieces are but a farce

apt at choosing word

inept at choosing

faking everything

in hopes that maybe,
when it feels,
I can go from there.

The eyes are there again
egging for inspection.
Look me in the face
and lose your muse discretion.

The weight it bears
ill prepared
to flow without repression.
To know there is a place
where the lion sleeps
moans and mimes
the holes, they blind.

Not a thing in mind.........
Get out of my mind.
Out of my mind
something I force....
farce.....
Faust...

Its blinking at me,
And its listening.
Its pondering my friend,
yet we are mincemeat
in the presence of absence.
The hole of the whole
Devouring, and falling out on its own accord.

Let the hand go to work and put the mind to rest,
Quiet the outside and lose yourself to dying-
on a sheet of paper,
on your way there,
in a waste basket ,
in a blown gasket.....

Find a space between the void
and peer into the eyes of a world
a tad perturbed
when you look too long
and things move to fall
that would not have before.

...but who's to boast?
Encapsulated in capsules
to see where my cap goes
to see the eyes of souls.
to know to atoll.