Teen angst poetry
dribbled in red pen.
Well, ideally.
I only have black type.

In fact, I never have experienced
teen angst. I only have
the perpetual piece of blackandred
corners me alone

The beast beneath my bed ceases
whenever daddy checks
but I never had a daddy
only a mommy valiantly battling the
blackandred demons her daddy
never scared away either.

and in the
end we feel nothing nothing can
touch us. We are the empty rusty
pail crying out from the Dripdripdrip of
our loneliness because no one comes in
because, in the foggy glass, no one can see each other
and coldandclammy jostling elbows
do Not touch- NeverNever

We hope the redhot heart of the
lovers we hold so closely will defrost
our windshields to the world and let in
Lightlovehopejoyhappiness
Contentment

AND THEN
I have hope enough
that the monsterinmycloset
cannot grip my dangling elbow. Hope that the steep
fall of bladeandblood and littleroundpills
Always stays a few feet away

I call and pray for stray sunbeams.

Later- I pull
out the quicksilver shards of glass
from my eyes and under my polluted
fingernails.
I shrug off their sodden coats.
I won't borrow burdens. Anymore.
So that my light may shine encore
Abeaconpillar of radiance
Est deus in nobis

A mysterious asymmetry
for a mirror.
A passing fancy-
maybe
I should jump in
and risk silver shadows of glass
in my throat or drowning in the tepid
pool which never was
a mirror.

One wonders at the Other.
Too timid to reach out
and hold the Other's hand.
The dread of grey disappointment
is too heavy to stir, but the
canary in One's throat longs
to test the air. Patience
was never One's virtue. One feels
more prone to
anguish.

Extend your hand and I will not
let you fall.
A grasp of relief.
One and the Other both
free from marble waiting and
free also from the
emotiondeath of
the mirror.
andsowewait

The pin is frozen
inches from the floor.
But I am deaf anyway.

Not to mention
the photoshop desaturation
of life.

I'm stuck.
At that place-
the top of the ferris wheel.
The pinheads are lackluster
and dead.

The bitter despair of the world,
its entirety,
profanes and shrieks
louder than banshee
or immense Tourette
for release.

and no, it isn't fair
that one should carry
alltheweight
but itisso.
static and frigid
perpetual panging echoes

and so the sooty waterfalls
erode Grand canyons
from the sandstone, the ugly grittiness
of my poisoned empty essence.

too charming,
rhyme and rhythm
slither greasily and gassily,
segregating.
bourgeois and homeless verse
never Touch.

and so even my Own words war
and hack more than cult horror films
that flicker on the moldy bleeding brick
of narrow sweating alleys
that have seen
rapeandmurderandfearandlustandgreed
and muchworse.
but it is all of my kind; the residence of my mind

I always skip the last step.
It's a matter of doubt
and defiance.
Disappointment,
which deafeningly rings
down to my imperfect toenails.

Skipping the last step
is a step away
from envy and lust.
It's that gray silk screen
behind my head.

Left foot first-
just like dancing.
But only one step up,
then it's counting by twos.
Coming down, the same
as you do when you're high,
onetwo, onetwo, a delicate prance
MUST be bombed into the thousand pieces,
all because, (though it is also why),
I always skip the last step.

I don't care who
hears me anymore.
I long to taste the sweet psychobabble,
so I lick my lips
and it drips out,
splattering on
the psychovirgin shoulders
of innocent bystanders.
I shrug. collateraldamage.

The loonybin flies
mumble around my face-
growling with disgust
at injustice and the
moldy, grimy consciences
laughing as they peer out
dusty boxcar windows
as the coaldust and asbestos
poison the vessels to match
the sour wine within.

I stand, marble, cold, alone,
except for sticky padding fly feet
across my lips.
The chill breeze of whispers
and the snowflakes of their
beady possum eyes
fall dead as they hit
my lifeless immortal marble.

The deadgrey stone
awaits with dread and ecstasy
the day of apocalyptic fire
when the Great marble pillars
fall victim to the gravity of all sin,
crushing the grimy greedy Watchers into pulp,
quarry-blasted Michelangelo perfection.
Sacrifice! the end of static immortality.

the flies feast on the charred and vacant carnage

A pounding
seizures and nausea
violence, fountains of cascading
mankind's bleeding, gushing
puncture wounds of wine
Dreamkillers out of their way to wreak
smoldering, rancid havoc
Epilepsy and ******* muscles spasms
Brain-tissue scarring from the rocking
between heavenhell and deathlife
Give me your soul and I'll
twist it into strands with which I
hang myself and make a tourniquet around your
neck
Dancing or slaying be one
I **** and lascerate the remnants of my
skin, my soul stretched across the
traintracks, waiting for pleasure
pleasurepleasure in gore and flesh
and wriggling maggots in the eyesockets
of children
Too bad
we all have to wake up come down
inandout of this horrific flying breathing fantasy
rapture of adulterated movement
Sin in all its glory licks the black flames
ashestoashes and dust into mud
blud across the vacuum