I give zero ***** anymore.
I have no more ***** to give.
I'm totally absolutely incontrovertibly
fresh out of *****.
My supply of *****
is completely out -- see??
[cupboard door swings open
Only to reveal
a fuckless cupboard]

Even the **** Store is out of *****.
I called them just now,
The guy on the phone said he was
Fresh out --
He told me:
The production and manufacturing
Of ***** has been outsourced
To Shenzhen China,
And the workers are striking
Because they are getting paid
Fifteen cents an hour to produce
6 ***** a second --
Which is inhumane and just wrong.

I asked him why they didn't pay better --
He said, ***** if I know! Like I said,
I'm fresh out of ***** to give
So who gives a ****?

She looks at me with that ***** youthful smile
Happy to be hunted out in daylight
From her permanent abode in the treasure box
Fully enjoying the remorse shimmering my eyesight!

She looks unreal like an alien from a land too far
Frozen in that mocking smile in prime’s full vigor
Proud to have made her place in forever love’s mime
Occupying a chunk of me a part of space time!

A wave of desire passes through me bleeds anew the scar
I let her go couldn’t possess her **** I still love her
Or is it that lump of fire still burns alive inside
That years cannot extinguish time’s layers cannot hide!

She lives there in full moon’s glory right beside me
Shining light of a dead star in old album a galaxy
That in June sky on the meridian waits for my eyes
Wakes with the grass flower blooms with the sunrise!

Young lovers I beg of you once you love never dither
Before summers pass you by come winter the leaves wither
Hold hands tight not let them go travel in love that far
Where you rue not like me in blurred eyes **** I still love her!

last night i couldn't stop thinking of the way your head always fit into the crook of my shoulders,
or the way your tiny hands would wrap around my warm waist.
i kept feeling your bright blue eyes burning through the back of my skull,
pleading for me to never lie to you;
never leave you.
but i did i leave you.
you had nothing to call a home anymore,
because i kept you so high up in the clouds.

all i can say
is that the way your lips curved up whenever i smiled at you
is haunting me,

and i think i need you.

He sat on his weathered couch in a dark and dank living room.

“Can you hear it calling?”

He seemed to speak to the silence.

“It yearns to lunge from my chest….Sometimes it pushes so hard.”

The words bounced off of walls and refracted…into…spider webs…

The heavy air loomed about his thoughts with unbearable weight. The darkness surrounding his cave seemed to expand forever.

“I don’t understand who has blessed me with this curse…is it arrogance or destiny?”

He sat with his large hands caressing the many wrinkles and divets of his wearisome and weathered face.

“You bring this upon yourself, you know.”

The voice echoed and boomed, enshrouding his very being.

It seemed the voice came from the walls…closing in….

“How can you say that?? Why would anyone do this to themselves??”

He shrieked in despair.

The walls themselves scoffed and howled in offense.

“This room. The blackness. The stench. The rotting carcass.”

Again the voice boomed with unrelenting and disconcerting authority.

“Who else is their origin? Things don’t just grow. Something manifests them.”

He pulled at his cheeks with his long and sharp fingernails, exposing the heavy dark circles below his bright and sunken eyes.

“How can I escape?? I never wanted this for myself! I can still hear it calling!”

His words pressed hard against the walls. The pounding energy of the blast continued to reflect and dance around shadows and spiders.


“There is no escape. You are a child of your choices and are chained to their destiny.”

At this he stood. He threw back the tattered and stained quilt he had been quivering beneath.

“Then I will face the darkness! I will stare fury and fire in the eyes and I will not quiver!”

He shot his hands into the sky and blasted a billow of flame at the rotting wood he called a ceiling.

“If this is my home then I shall call it my domain! If this is my destiny then I shall be its master!”

With a great toss of his hands he banished the darkness from him and walked out of the door.

“The twinkle in my eye”
She says

The twinkle in my eye?
He stripped of passion.
He stripped of feeling.

Such words sang from a freshly cut melon.
Smiling up at me
Eyes glistening from fascination
Chest glistening from the essence
Of a coconut (and a small amount of saliva)

Curves of unfathomable length
Lips of explored (and unexplored) depths
Luscious locks of the moonless sky
Leave me lavished with listless languish
For just a moment

But my breath returns
My energy rebalanced
Spirit re
Invigorated

Satine
Sweet Satine

I am an unhealthy person.
I have an unhealthy mind.
It searches for ways to cope with things,
Ways I know you wouldn't find.
It thinks of needles, lighters and blisters,
Of bite marks and bruises and hating my sister.
It thinks of benches and doorsteps and two **** soft beds,
It thinks of that kitchen, that grass hill and when the moon turned red.

I have an unhealthy person.
I am an unhealthy mind.
Together I make a combination
Of the likes you would never find.

Memnoch,
My Devil,
I don't know what to do.

You speak of lies,
You speak of life,
And I know you speak of truths.