What has the world become,
when zombies have jumped out of their TV screens.
Faces of men in the streets of Miami,
have been gnawed off by human teeth.

Bath salts empower the mind.

And now "zombie" is dead;
shooters introduced him to his grave.
Do they have that right?

Sweet world, there are sinister things living within your confines.

My loves a battered box
with odd shapes
of wood
oak yew and pine
carved
with hearts
from time to time.

A mis matched
assortment
of broken pieces
glued
and repainted
though with age
the pictures
tainted.

Theirs no picture
on the lid
that's long since
faded
by the water damage
tears
from eyes
past players
jaded.

I hope you understand
this is more
than just
a toy
this is the
very essence
of a
very lonely boy.

Close the box
if you
can't help me
leave it there upon
the shelf
and let the pieces
feel untouched
as I do
within my self.

I would like to say
that you were my favorite mistake...

But

(when it finally had the chance
to get inside me)

the double bacon cheese burger

made me feel
so
much
better
than you did
when given the same opportunity.

She's a pretty little thing walking the streets alone.
Once, she had the world in the palm of her hand.
She let it all go.

Now she wears a smile that doesn't reach her eyes,
A heart filled up with deadened dreams.
She does whatever it takes to pay her bills and buy her pills.

Another night with another man.
Waking up alone feeling bruised, abused and broken,
Drowning in cheap wine, doing another line.
There is no love in her life, and as she holds her head in her hands,
The tears of emptiness, loneliness and sadness stream down her pretty face.