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decompoetry Oct 2010
Can’t recall the last night I slept
without awaking multiple times
under the serpent’s cataract eye,
mistaking a midnight whisper
caressing my defense systems
as the shiver-inducing slither
of a mercenary’s lucid blade.

Hours afterward, eyes stretched
in fear of invisible shadows,
as the sun rises to meet my gaze,
I can’t help but wonder
when the night will arrive
where imagination
isn’t the villain.
--'In the Wasteland'
decompoetry Oct 2010
There was once a time when my wife
would have made a fuss over my nails,
nagged me to scrape the dirt underneath
until I was presentable to guests.

But that was a long time ago,
back when my wife was still in my life,
and not a memory distorting mindwaves.

Now the only guests I am able to endure
are the vultures impersonating Death’s halo;
enhanced in a game of waiting the other out,
determined to last until the other cracks.

The dirt under my fingernails worry me;
ponderings of how long they will remain,
and if I will ever clean them at all,
actions depending solely on
the annoyances of a lost void.

Where are you?
--'In the Wasteland'
decompoetry Oct 2010
Sponge eyes twisted in duration with the machines
installed six hundred feet under the Earth;
lips chapped and tongue unfulfilled,
a slight itch molesting my throat;
juice yearning, hibernation warning;
total shutdown following global release,
spasms on the floor along broken glass,
content with the shards scraping death
from behind my eyes
and flinging it in the pan
beside my feet.
--'In the Wasteland'
decompoetry Oct 2010
nose like a sprung hose
benadryl refuses to open
and I’ve had enough of
trying to crack its code

throw the pills across the room
along with the rest of common sense
and punch the wall in with my fist
frustration through malevolent bliss

can’t stand it and I don’t know what to do
you’re so far away and I am acting up again
don’t know how to solve it and not sure I’d want to
unless I could take advantage of my medicine

want to inhale it inject it live it bleed it
snort it but never hurt nor desert it
high on our time and I am going broke
another stage of this ****** up jester twist
and I am not sure how I will ever maintain this fix

this fix this fix this fix
this dream this dream this dream
this memory memory memory
oh my God a memory memory
a memory I can’t even remember now

now remember
no

withdrawn from this life
and drawn into the withdrawal
and I can’t focus on anything else
besides the cracks in the structure
of the building encasing
my own sizzled brain
and the chains that I pay
to keep me insane
insane

keep me insane
decompoetry Oct 2010
Attracted to the moon
with as much attachment
as my mind holds on you.

Distracted by the glow
singularizing its presence,
like when you enter the room
and the music forgets to breathe.

Knowledge of contentment
drifting in this Poetic awareness,
the moon’s kiss like a favored abyss.

High on the chemicals between us,
losing myself deep within
rare subterranean spirals,
where everything is made,
save for the bed.
decompoetry Oct 2010
Zen
Whereabouts unknown;
no concern for the burn
inflaming our insides.

Paradisiacal vertigo
swallowing all we know.

Muscles uncontrolled,
voice boxes cracked,
released into the wild.

Nature startles,
flinches in the wind
and whispers in the sky,
boiling *** on the stove
with melting metal.

Aware of the world
spun in unity,
but forgotten of the world
way out there,
down the steps
and away from our Zen.

Rather stay chained
up in the cool dark,
with my lips locked
on your lips,

and my serenity locked
on your serenity,

while the townspeople
continue to ruin
perfectly good
torches.
decompoetry Oct 2010
The drums of life
beat rapidly,
as the Nymph polishes
her red velvet knife.

The black hearted army
of gargoyles
sharpen their nails
on the outlines of Hell.

Rumbling like a lion’s roar,
black clouds of trouble
float their way,
to this brand new day.

Lightning crashes
to the ground,
marking the sound
of War on Earth.

The grass ruptures,
lava erupts,
following a flow
of the Devil’s corrupt.

Our winged savior
swoops among the hordes
of cruel intentions,
studying their battle behavior.

Searching for a hole,
a flaw,
a way to erase
every last one of them all.

Quickly she sees
an opening
of flight,
and thus begins the Fight,

The blade
slices through
the leader’s masquerade.
Nothing evil is allowed to stay.

Wishing stars
crash from the world above,
flaming the trees
like God’s cigar.

The arrow of hydrogen
rips through
the monster’s face,
as done by a true ace.

The Nymph is knocked back
from the recoil
of the
imploding gargoyle.

Soaring through
a flaming forest,
unable to stop
and unlikely to drop.

Speed decreases,
falling increases,
wings inoperative,
laws of flight uncooperative.

A splash
as a little
angel lands
in the river.

The current
carries her along
to the waterfall
of endurance,

of imagination,
portals zapping
to any chosen
time location.

**

Eyes open,
here we are,
strange thunders
cracking from afar.

Men in green
uniforms and hats,
shocked and appalled,
wondering what the **** is that.

But not in her
native tongue,
Что трахание является этим
it more likely rung.

Broken from this daze of
Beautifulness,
they open fire on this pure
piece of mythology.

A shred
in her wing,
knocked down,
she cannot let this swing,

A glow of ominous
green mist
conjures in her palm;
our Nymph is quite ******.

A flick of the wrist,
the soldiers freeze
like stone, in fear,
as their souls tear

apart,
like a sheet
of paper:
incomplete.

**

The Nymph
walks this
newfound Earth
of mysteries and fallen lymph,

searching for
her own kind,
the ones she
had left behind.

A journey
that never ends;
everyday begins
like the day before.

The drums of life
beat slowly
as the Nymph polishes
her red velvet knife.

Off in the distance,
it isn’t clear.
Is it near?
She holds her breath,

and awaits the Elephant of Death.
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