I'm sick of bringing welcoming baskets to my brain-dead neighbors;
They reek of reoccurring favors and fading candle labor;
I mean...
It's to a point I fell asleep by the wishing well;
And woke up counting sheep frolicking piggies playing kiss and tell;
Debunking trumpets of cachet telekinesis;
I'm a hidden sinning villain with chewable junk as his personal Jesus;
Evade gratuitously from all kinds of communication;
Never wanted the attention, but I caught it's contamination;
And my face melted;
But kept a defunct smile just in case;
I need to worm through the dross and cut myself into the chase;
I'm a motley of misinterpreted mayhem;
A clothing shop for a wandering vagrant's cloudy stray phlegm;
Trying to comfort the uncomforted;
My life is just a Death Row inmate's last words with unwanted conjunctions;
But somehow through misery
I pride myself imageless and infinite;
Reeling in the years to blow that last smoke before the finish;

Decipher the bowels
that slushes out through my imagination
Crystals and xylophone chimes
Pouring out the ink wells of sensation
Don't pivot pickets to my position
I can't stalemate this war for expansion
For my tongue is a swollen pickle
Dipped in bitterness
and ****** by the lips of semantics
I groove in the basses of basics
and grow a garden for further foundation
For my tongue is a swollen pickle
And boy is it's perfume amazing
I mean
Can you smell the awkward amps?
Pumping veins with Crayola visions
or a Chaplin transcript with deadpan humor
Are you experienced enough for social division?
My tongue is a swollen pickle
Say whatever the hell I wanna say
Crunch me when you digest this sour thought
For the reign of excitement's here to stay

May I have your hand?

Okay....

I would like to tell you
how you were made
And what these folds mean
Inside your hands
I know it sounds silly
but please listen to me

Haha okay so...

That crease right beneath your fingers
Means invincibility
The ability to ensure serenity
when encountered by enemies
the will to build
the power in your veins
strive during the worst
to prolong a better days
A creative freak
A pursuing perfectionist
Etiquette of measurements
Treasures endeavour unhesitant
And you care for it
Your strength will prevail
Take your time
And you will see
How your mind is unparrelled
Do you see it?
Can you see it smiling at you?

And that crease at the bottom
That cups your thumb
Represents your beauty
And your the rarest that they come
But you haven't realized it yet
And its frowning at you
Your potential to succeed
And the elegance you brew
Your smile is of wonders
Your eyes are a universal sunset
Gorgeously burning
But you haven't realized it yet
Do you see it?
Do you know how beautiful you are now?

And now....
Its your middle crease
That bounds your strength and elegance
With such unravelled symmetry
Now I want you to look at it
......
Stare into its shape
......
Now I will hold mines up
And if they all match
It means we are soulmates

Wow,
They look so much alike
So give me your hand
Let our fingers interlock
And our uniqueness will stand
.......
For the rest of our time
Look into your palm
One will frown and one will smile
And the middle will keep you calm
The middle is me
The reflection of your soul
And it will be there
Till our spirits are up with the nightsky glow
I want you to look at me
And repeat what I said
Because no matter where I am at
I will be in the folds in your hands

I hurt myself the other day
Stared into the mirror
And was disappointed at what I saw

When your blood taste like coffee
for the reaper to drink
Will he ever tire
Will he ever tire chasing me?

Eyes of Eden
Are now empty field of billowing sands
But I will trick myself
Trick myself into believing that I'm okay
Paste a superficial smile on my face

Temperatures drop inside my organic pump
and my rising sun
Has shed its last smile
Is it save out there?
Can I ignore their stares?
Is this my final goodbye?
Am I too unkind to eyes for social communication?
The day my lover died
I lost my will to breathe
For she was the only one
Who could ever relate to me
Like I said
Is it safe out there?
But who am I talking to?
I'm so glad I met you
I could never forget you

Oversaturated in grease,
Frying in the light of embarrassment,
Here,
Take a plate and pick off the unnecessary,
With oily fingers to stuff your bellies,

I give you my pleasure and you give me pain,
Bite off the circuits of my love called an aorta vein,

I can't sit here wondering if you love me,
I need some source of validation,
So stop chewing on my heart,
For your own parasitic elation,

the bottle's like a violin,
screaming demons in my stomach,
a cyborg forging information as lunch,
purging an urge for self-destruction,
my outer shell's cold but the circuits a storm,
of electrical database lifespan into megabytes of ****,
see death is a story,
and my analogies are allegories,
mourning after the goriest morning is NOT worth storing,

blank pages turn into mythical dissipation,
and with that loud speaker you'd think he could pen down imagination,

a midnight gig playing with cosmic instrumentation,
for the humanoid race place your conscious on your invitation,

Sometimes my identity,
Feels like my enemy,
A charred carcass of the artist with Bohemian symmetry,
It feels like my brain leaks from my ears,
When anxiety has poked holes,
My nauseous kicks gears,
But in the sky,
I study these black helicopters circling ,
A merchant clergy demigod machine that can grant me serendipity,
Am I that peanut gallery displaying a wickedness grimace?
At the show where the iceberg never sunk relationships?
I'm just poorly cataloged,
And I'm here with a lion in Oz curse,
Dispersed into realms where courage is brought in a hearse,
Now let me wish these helicopters,
Were an implied gesture,
Mankind and nature divorced in court,
That's why I'm messed up,
So to the wings of machine mystique please come true,
I am desolated greatness on the apocalyptic ground below you,

Everywhere I go,
Everywhere I sleep,
Someone has their life,
Except for me,
Everybody is born to die,
But its the time you spend,
That makes it worth the pain,
But lately I wish it would end,

But there's another sad story,
That irises deem redundancy,
If I told you that you are beautiful,
Would you comfort me?

Everyone knows,
Everything goes,
Even the sun,
Even the snow,
So why was I born,
When I wanted to end from the beginning,
I am not scheduled for this game of bluffs,
Why is life so belittling?

Throughout time,
I've contain the most treacherous of thoughts,
Pots of boiling frogs,
That my ignorance help caught,
My zodiac has disappeared,
And my driveway is stained with blood,
The corpses of my exes,
Met my own OJ glove,
What is love?
A belly up cadaver in the river of depression?
A place to float above the loneliness?
A temporal boat of protection?
Well I've died and came back,
Dumber than ever,
Maybe in time Ill adapt to this numbness,
A sponge unworthy to sever,

They point exaggerated barrels at my temple,
But they can't go through it,
The act alone is miserable,
The bittersweet police ensues,

My swan song's consist of an encore,
I don't want to be depressed,
Another cliche statistic bliss in the obsolete of death,
Or a string of narcissism,
Fitted within' a poetical prism,
A postcard of ill remembrance,
Soaked in vats of venom,

The bittersweet police chase me,
Bitter is my imagery;
and there's a sweet spot in my apathy

Through the whispers of a kiss,
Misguided video kite flying blissfully ignorant of this,
Double life tragedy,
An unreachable majesty,
Of first impression dissatisfaction and no love actually,
Or one who's too cute to fall for your imagery,
Sick of hearing soppy similes,
Sucker symbols and sentimental soliloquies,
Angels ate my face and gave me this grimace,
Dwelling with the devil's delinquents influenced my appearance,
Fallen archetypes of valor and prestige,
Resurrected by the words of the assassin's creed,
Memories are paintings hung up by despair,
As I drift in this blizzard taking in more cold air,

The beast cobbler somber suited to putrid minions,
And picked apart the whiskers of death and scribed a diction,
"He hath no fury than an arcade weapon scorn"
Tis I blasted through virtual vitriol levels with life unborn,
Licking the literature scriptures and propagandizing dilemma,
I trained Cerberus into a vicious *******,
Biting heathens with the molars demons fear to run from,
Too **** farmer to sail away from my problems,
I reaped too many seeds to bleed,
So all your fuming won't do absolute **** to me,
I'm a dark stepchild of instability and fertility,
Shallow stocking delinquent seeking fire with an angel match cracking humility,
I'm a typhoon buffoon with Hanna-Babara tendencies,
**** with me and get a lethal dose of dynamite and Trojan Horse remedies,

These lines experimental but elemental to your mental,
My creativity,
Will never submit to the minimal,
Isotopes subliminal penetrating the simple,
Similes send criminals to infiltrate your biochemicals,
Infected stanzas with stacked syntaxes sickness,
My subconscious semiautomatic and stimulated,
Formulate semblances of Leviathan illuminated,
It's a tragedy my soul's has become a victim of gravity,
Now my temples been raided,
My nirvana's disseminated,
And I've contemplated annihilation of self,
Picturing my end as a senile senior citizen,
With no one by my side,
My mind can't complete a sentiment,
Remembering has become my source of a smile,
But it's making me even more curious to taste the end of this projectile,

Check me out this hospital of woe,
Just use your love as knits to sow,
My wounded heart punctured with hurt,
Clean me with empathy and wash off the dirt,
I'm not to fond with medicine or needles,
But I can shut off fear just to be there near you,

I know angels fly,
But you're too close to me,
And I haven't prayed that much,
For your kindness to pursue,
I heard from the radio,
God was missing an angel,
But ****** I bet my life,
That that angel was you,

I've acquired the dullest of modern memories,
Circle around the complex of life to find its asymmetries,
And I'm hung,
Like calender's past its prime,
Marked into a blockaded day with numb sun,
So now I'm emotionally fertile with moonlight in my gun,
Aim them at the lions that maul the flesh from my sanity,
Turn them into hairy cherubs for bliss tyrannical anarchy,

Give me a command,
And I'll obey without restraint,
The wilting between my lines,
Are like the lead to my paint,
The music to my angst,
The fuel inside my tank,
But no matter if I'm free,
I'll always lay in front of your tank,
Acknowledge me,
Properly honor me with serenity and love,
Instead of meeting the boot,
Like a 100-legged bug,
So color me passionate,
Because my ashes flourish with glitter,
Till I tie a hammock between the sun and the winter,

She survived the thunderhead of domestic disturbance,
She never planned on becoming the black sheep's shepherd,
Of her own meaningless drawings and poetry creations,
The demon split dimensions and how feeds on her patience,
That was before the red slits on her pearly white wrists,
The teddy bear thrashing and her hormonal cyst,
But that gave inspiration to climb out the abyss,
And continue writing what she liked and would love to coexist with,
Psychedelic language,
Her graphite's anguish,
Persisted to punish the the notepad with poetry painted,
But yesterday was cloudy,
And the short hours it felt,
That's when I realized I was writing about myself,

I'm an armless appleseed drowning in a pool of liquor

What is prayer?
Hope?
To a wishbone,
Make it snappy,
My dreamfields are *****,
And lately I've been lacking a comb,
I guess that's okay,
For those who suffered every night and day,
Whatever makes your flowers bloom,
Whatever should sooth those scars and wounds,
I guess I'll never walk those shoes,
But do what you absolutely feel you need to do,
Take the pain and wash them away,
Rub the memories into the sea then run away,
All the torture you store in the genius chambers of your mind,
Will depart as long as you acknowledge that in time,
You are not alone,
Physically and spiritually,
Me and you will never die because our matter matters 'til infinity,
Till the universe expires we are here and always be,
Rubbing out our pain to the depths of the sea,

I'm the sorrowful circumference of everything nothingness,
Night swimming in perplexed psychosis and paranoia amiss,
Sour patch grimace stifling posture,
Behold the flames of yesterday's meeting of love gone autumn,

Cut and paste alertness to server overtime,
Digging up a grave for my hollow mind,
The midnight hawk glides over blank terrains,
And inserts its abstract provisions and declare it's his domain,

Jackal in his church pants,
Bad kid with punk jams,
Cramming nonsense in his conscience,
Skateboarding prophets,
Dividing light into chambers,
Bag of **** for his neighbors,
Turned into a living demon bleeding thru the paper,
Applesauce in the inside,
A coconut shell for the front,
Pineapple knives for the slaughtering,
Right into a strawberry's gut,

He was not a normal scorned, occulting youth,
But the lore of a regretful teen plaguing the afternoons,
Till that strawberry gut cracked his coconut noggin,
And shall he rest in bygones and Hanna-Babara monsters,

A frostbitten temperament,
A trout mouthed citizen,
Elephant tusk gentlemen,
Jamming my nose in businesses,
Crooked like question mark,
Squares etched in purple chalk,
On the pavement where the Martians walk,
All around my writer's block,
My head is drum machine,
Cymbals crash through misery,
Impregnated symphonies,
With snares ******* the violin strings,
Headaches are a *****,
Excuse my French,
I got a lisp,
The bass drum is thumping,
And the hi-hats are talking ****,

I could unwrap your mummified heart,
But I'm too much of a coward to know where to start,
Working myself into a replicated gentlemen,
And this time,
Ask her out without winged middlemen,

Sometimes I think I'm truly wasting my time,
I'm just an expired grandfather clock passed it prime,
So if I ever squared off with your elegance,
I'd just back off and drown in regrets and negligence,

Am I waste to you?
A *** with burnt flowers,
A darker shade of blue?
Am I just too radioactive to touch?
Am I just too closed casket faced to love?
Too jellied knuckled to trust?
I honestly think I'm just ******,

When I skip rocks,
They sink,
Down with the trash,
And so it seems,

I have nothing else to do,
But wish I could spend my life with you,

Call me your *****,
And I'll call you my muse,
Rip the seams off my flesh,
So I be free from the rules,
Human limitations are all milk and honey,
A pig mask latch on a car crash dummy,
And I'm thrashing thoughts,
Because of you I'm a mess,

The pyres of loves,
Sparked a lot of buzz,
In a bag of tattered memories,
Gnawed upon by Louisiana bugs,
I'm a would be killer with a open book of matches,
But will I draw the first flame,
To turn these pictures into ashes?

Or will I still be that lover,
That nailed a stop sign on his chest,
Hanged himself on every question mark,
That you sent to me direct,

See I'm no blind fruit rooting from your garden,
I'm just that dummy who believed you never leave me hollow hearted,

The circulation has been constricted,
Painful memories indented,
I'm just a mooring of ******,
Carrying a shipment of resentment,
My organic piston is done repenting,
My aorta's done it's sifting,
But now I'm down and out,
I'm not worthy of remembering,
The makeup is addicting,
The flesh of my rose is lifting,
And now I've lost my pedals,
Down a river woefully drifting,
There's a thong around my heart,
Tightly squeezing,
The juice of my love,
Now I'm a loveless human being,

Helium halos fade,
So often I'm awake in my coffin,
Coughing out a blackened soul,
A stop sign nailed on chest,
This is the crossroads,
To an unknown wasteland,
Where the angels are hung from cactuses,
A fire struck the marker holder in the chalkboard sky,
And there lit a billion, brilliant stellar matches,
Now where do I go,
Away from this desperation,
Away from the smiles,
Of fertilized desecration,

Do we ever forget what we see?
Do we enact what we believe?
Do we arm the spine of our diaries?
To self-detonate to remain drama-free?

Sometimes my intent indents ignorance,
But maybe I've umpired too many bazookas,
And wore out the strength of my remembrance,
Catching rockets aimed at this loser,

Loser?
What are you talking about?
Lost the L in Laughter
Lost the O in Optimistic,
Lost the S in Simplicity,
Lost the E in Expressionistic,
Lost the R in Reality,

So now my soul's succumbed to gravity,
Tragically hatching my apathy with a Whack-a-mole mallet,
A dastardly dressed casualty,
Actually,
I'm trying to reverse the black magic curse and verse my happiness,

Swirling a frosty straw
Stuck up like a victory flag in winter ground
With my lips wrapped around it
I stare into this empty canvas
of a vanilla malt
And project my cartoonish headaches
into it to devour it
Oh those ****** Doo monsters
Shadows that lurk to cut my Tom & Jerry humor
Only to formulate semblances of evil
A Mojo JoJo caricature
I then project into my milkshake
His smirk haunts the smile of Tweety Bird
In my Hanna-Barbara mindfield
Colorful spirals of animated joys
Let me know slurp Elmer Fudd shotgun
That was mugging my creativity
And robbed me of my motive
Let me taste the refreshing winds
That flow through the deserts of Road Runner
Taking laps around my heart
With its true intentions in a love letter
I will never get
Soon slurped and eaten to take away the thoughts
And now I hope I can drink another
To rip out the rest of the pain that in my heart

I know it's tiresome but it tangles the mind,
Sometimes I commit too much into wasting my time,
Like chewing gum fat,
Spat back out into the streets,
You ***** me of my trust and wash me out to sea,

I was foolish to think I had a place in your heart,
Soaked in a whirlpool of regrets and I'm back at start,
An astronaut trying to soar into space,
Where I'm granted a longer expiration date,

Or maybe my naivety capsized my sanity,
Built a rocketship to resign from humanity,
My attachment to you is the latches that grabs upon the rockets,
So far away from you where my insanity never goes rotten,

Her Cupid arrows has sunk,
Into my xylophone spine,
She has me singing notes,
Every single time,
Her ice cream clouds,
Gets me high,
And her marshmallow smile,
We are two of a kind,
She has me here,
Singing blues,
And there is no other place,
I'd rather be,
Than to be next to you,
The kitchentop you sit on,
The coffee you sip,
The bug spray when you camp,
The float when you swim,
I wonder what your doing,
As I write this mush,
And when you read this looking back,
I hope you are still my smush,

A rattling machine gun aborts it's brainchild
Throughout my vacancy cerebral cortex mausoleum;
I'm just a jar of butterflies sitting on a log cabin stove
Burning
Churning a purging urchin out of turbulent ordeals;

Good thoughts hang along with trench coats
So it seems I'm jaded;
Catered to crushed normalcy
I despise my dormancy till my retinas are faded;

Seep into the cerulean belt
that watched over every soul dead;
Morph into a cloud
then graduate to a thunderhead;

Pouring my tears to a headache cacophony
Everyone is alerted;
So when I'm a surfacing tropical depression
I'm a ominous weapon
Here to annihilate the surfers;

Everyone is a brick in the wall
Covering the light of enlightenment;
I heard someone fell from that wall
And I'm that ******* that piloted it;

Drunken kamikaze;
With homage enough to honor honesty;
So I'm just here armor free;
Numbing the trauma center to give air to all

Tragically;
the haphazard me has dampened
the fun has numbed
the gun is jammed
spirit slammed into the pavement
where shadows haunt benevolence
which is where I reside
eye foam kaleidoscopic
and my dreams are between the space
of this bullet and I
obsession isn't the question
where is the message is boredom
and it will reign
attention deficit
plastic hollow skulls laced into necklace
a damning evident pain
that worms through my rotten heart
swallows every bit of aorta residue
that was annihilated eons ago
when I hated being next to you
cue the dramatic
off with his head theatrics
then hear more blabber and fractal *****
giving a **** about my existence
pension is a speeding ticket whereas the soul
moves slow
so give me the gun my kind sir
and I will calmly let myself go