Today is the death of hope.
It sees these leaves fall to gloom
and all that was spring
loose its sweet perfumed softness
as bright white blooms disintegrate,

Watches the clock tic tic tok
till time collapses and grief stops,
all moments ceasing,
all beings no longer being seen.

As all winds carry in
the burning stench of carrion,
and bitter stinging rays of radiation,
clouds spitting sickening poison
as mother nature screams in frustration.

Thus, the memory of humanity
recedes in embers and ash
burnt so quickly
and gobbled up as fast.
Till, only the void remains,
to mark the space where we
once rose and fell.

There were erratic outbursts
of rage and violence.
No bruises, but welts,
all the pain that was dealt
wasn’t as bad as what I felt.

There was depression
and parental inflicted
isolation,
a barren wasteland
of being forced to face
a life of submitting to
the beast hidden from the view
of everyone but me.

There was manipulations,
a parent taking
what sustained me,
that which helped
keep me from killing
every inch of my being,
of driving sharp things
into my skin
and letting all that is red
flow out from within.

There was years of
debasement,
and a parent
that blamed mistakes
on the figments
her religion created.

I wasn’t a bad kid.
I didn’t deserve it.

As an adult
I strive to be the essence of
compassion and kindness.

But I have no patience
for the parent
who did this,
and feel no obligation
to keep her around
or pursue a new relationship.
She can keep her distance,
and we can both go on living
our own separate lives.

You are a musical epiphany
that echoes gently in my memory,
the tiniest of tinglings
in all of my extremities,
a vague but pleasant recollection,
a strange lyrical collection
of poetry the inspires me
to rejoice gratefully.

You my dear are the highlights
of my imaginative nights
and queen of my daydreams.
Elusive as you may seem
you still bring me
soft syllables of sweet sophistry.

So, I gift to thee these words.
Yours to do with as you please.
I release all this artistry
into your gifted hands,
and let what will be
come graciously unto me.

Listen to the sounds of drumming,
that is coming through.
Baby, I am the predator
that is hunting you,

super serial killer,
crazy ****** hummer
of a creepy tune.

When you hear the sound of knocking
you should runaway,
cause toe tapping maniacs
in the carnival
are coming today.

See the sad clown,
and watch the ****** carousal.
When the lights go out
we will all fall then crawl.

The melody is haunting
like those glowing eyes,
semi-circles spinning
in the darkest night.

If it was the devil
that would be a relief,
but this is something darker
then an ancient angelic creep.

Hunger and jagged teeth,
congested growls,
nipping at my feet,
fur so thick it engulfs everything,
when I turn around
and look into the mirror
I see that the beast is me.

It’s a circus of terrors
with too many tops to count,
and there are new nightmares
in every brand new town.

Little zombie dwarves
that claw the ground
riding decaying ponies
with flesh that falls
from their ribs,
while bits of viscous mucus
slides down the strong mans
chiseled vampire grin.

Steeped in all of this horror
how will anyone survive,
and to top it off this is
Halloween night.

Goblin fingers grab you,
laughing at your terror.
You might get a way
for a moment,
but running
will take to nowhere.

Sleeping eternally silent in the void
where no one comes back from,
a place no one can avoid
forever.

They murdered the romantic in me,
cut him so deeply he had nothing left,
no blood or organs, no hopes or dreams,
leaving just this floppy lifeless thing.

One knife at a time, in each point
his heart’s affection would find
pure ******* and devastation,
stuck like a pig and drained

put on a hook of pain to be hanged,
one big heartbroken meat sack,
one more rejection like a sword
larger than expected but he took that.

The proffer of perfect prose and
presenter of poetic affection,
princely pauper pushing daisy daydreams,
with rose petal cliché schemes.

Pink prickles, portly pokers
that poked holes in his swollen
but oh so hollow heart.

Then in the end
this sloppy sack of skin
just up and blew away.

I know that
the sun will
still shine fine.

But that
ain’t how
it feels now.

I know life
will return from
winters revenge,
and when
spring
comes back again
that vitamin D
that I need
will replenish me.

But the days
keep getting shorter.
The nights keep
getting colder
and I keep feeling
older and older.

I know I will
feel less stressed,
depressed,
and ill
when I get
a night’s sleep.

But at this moment
work is keeping
my sleepy time,
rest for my mind
hours behind
this long shift.

I crave an old school love. The kind where reciprocated effort is displayed effortlessly. A mutual respect that doesn't need questioning. Trust in the fact that no matter what life disrupts, compassion will not be one of them. The days can get complicated, but an authentic love has the potential of pure ease.
I have no desire to settle or entertain the idea of a temporary fix for affection. I am too busy falling inlove with the girl I am becoming, the best version of myself. Independence is one hell of a drug. And I am happy with the "right now."

I know
its time to go,
even though
I wish time
would slow.

I know
that seasons
change,
and summer’s
elations
will be
winter’s bane
as I recall
them
in the heat
of a cold fire
pain.

I know
that you are gone
bone thin
goblin
elderly
grandma,

and the guilt
I feel
is still
a very real
***** deal.

I know this
is a cheap verse
but I only got
a few minutes
to jot it down.

I guess that is just
the gist of all of this
amidst all I know
I am certain
I have lost a bit
of bliss
in aging.

So, now I know
I miss the past
and feel like
replaying
the memory footage
of old days,

But I know
that this is
lazy writing,
and I won’t
get back that way
anytime soon.

There may be
some grief
calling me
back to my
strange history.

Some inner aching
pulling the strings
of old memories.

With leaves that leave
a cold fall tree,
I see spring colors
transitioning
to summer shades,
then autumnal tints,
till they crumble
under my humble
feet, fading before
the coming winter wars.

Like sweet pets
who have passed,
like the few fallen
life companions,
and family members
who fell to embers
then to the smoking ash
of time’s eternal flame.

I am pulled back there
for just a second,
take stock and own
all those precious moments
I have known
recalling all that I can
with a nostalgic appreciation.

Then let it go,
if I am able to,
and move on.

All that stupid poetry
Makes sense to me
Tell me everything
Lose your shirt
Like your dignity
Get an answer out of me
**** me with poetry
Inside
Like that pain
Behind your eyes
Tell me why
I don't
Or did
Or do
Mean anything to you
***** me
Over
**** me
Over

Push me
Closer
Tell me why you couldn't love me

But you could **** me

Over,

And over
Again.

Criticize
Fantasize
Tell me
Why

**** around
Don't make a sound
Choke an answer out of me
Lose your mind like your
Virginity

I can tell
You didn't give it to me

**** me with your stupid
Melancholy poetry

Tell me why you didn't love me

Tell me
Why
You do now
You can't have me.

A streak of flames
chases me
down familiar
family streets,

pass memories,
those sweet vagaries
of yester year,

and in their wake
the fires take
all that I was,

incinerate
all I hated
and what I loved.

Smiles and friends,
fun weekends
turn to ash.

Faces of
my loved one
blur and
fade too
freaking fast.

Childhood homes
and adult apartments
crumble under
the burning fury
of all the rage that was lit.

School playground
and the campground
where grandpa worked,

like all of us
turn to black dust
and disappear.

Then all the stars
that I once watched
blink out of
existence,

the last thing
that I feel
is my consciousness
disintegrating,
as tingling bits of me
are being rended from
my dying reality.