I’m the sickness,
the grotesque singularity that envelopes and gropes that sick nectar.

The sickly substance drains so subtle upon the cut edge of lips
and the pillar draw strings stitched and bound between cardiac flesh.
I’ll cleave,
cut and seethe,
suckle upon the sin I glower as I twine
and tug at those piano puppet strings caught in twain with every heart beat,
just trigger happy nerves spackled in misunderstood concept called love and impulse.

Pluck the collar cuff at your guttural sing and sentence,
those ballots fluttering from between pearl teeth,
I’m stealing those breathing gasps and loving longings;
they’re all just flecks and fragments of lackluster human baggage,
just mannequins treading sluggish,
fractured splinter frame and hinge fickle.
I’m the socio experiment,
the fiendish distaste of a chimera,
the zealous of corrupted cold hearted,
faux feeling skin wearing thing.

Just a copulation of electrical splatter and liquid tissue,
inorganic animal,
snapping jaw and glass shard fangs.
I’ll rile and reeve between the click and snap of your heart beat,
coddle the smoke of prey’s scent,
I’ll parasite the life blood that courses and holds beneath your emotional connect.
My cancer’s a slaughter fed consolation,
ever feasting malignant circumstance,
it rallies a thousand eyes,
irises blood thick,
fragments my moral conscience with teeth riddled limbs,
claws that chew and tear.

A multi-armed fiend,
segmented soulless and black tainted blood lost long ago,
all that remains ***** is the tissue wearing skeleton I claim domain,
fragmenting the soul into steel shards,
all’s just razor edge mechanical once the human feel falls to ash amongst the clutter of bone.
You’ll find the soulless circuit board in the gulf of your cancerous conscience,
as the human corrupts to cancer

Thatcher vacuum seals nicotine
Slurps cigarette like mosquito
Ravenous lungs gnaw and grind for the slow pander,
Thatcher’s just another name for the labeling
We plaster and pine for an out,
Stitch that finite lie beneath squeamish child skin,
Thatcher’s the black lung paradise,
******* infancy coddling cigarette stifle,
The caloric crack of his canines fletching out lust and sickly groove
As he’s scopes out fiend and vexed vandals,
Clutches the sick theistic *******
Cuddle those bruise licked hips
Give God the gross percent,
Cause heaven’s in those greenbacks
and God’s in the ******* kick,
Suckling bout the American tip
The Christian capitol,
Seething on shadow puppet ****** and American dream,
Gods got nothing to do with the slickened crinkle of gain and glamour,
Thatcher’s just the candy man give and cult,
Cough the crutch of contagion greed
And clutch the cuff of your porcelain sleeve,
Thatcher gleans your blackest suite tight,
Struts raven blade shoulders perched on American made spine,
Thatcher does as Thatcher please,
Thatcher thinks as Thatcher bleeds,
And Thatcher bleeds venereal blend,
Gout with the American veneer of broken girl and scabbed moral traumatic,
Trauma tastes as the hollow pixies give out the get out,
Bandaged baby girls,
The teenage horror show,
Just another blazoned hit of one two take the hand me down generic give away,
Desensitize the humanize,
Girls got to get the days glossy puff and sniff,
Thatcher’s content to satisfy,
Callous coroner a spectator suckling Marlboro lick,
Lodging thick smoke and toxin between spittle slick lips,
Albino plumes clotting and unfolding,
Thatcher clicks back the cartridge
Filter and cigarette,
Thatcher gulps back the need because brain’s got a favoring kink for the buzz,
Thatcher sings with the screaming in his straggling lungs,
Hums the western creed
Laughs fickle with God at his need,
Thatcher’s the true American dream

gonna speak the words
that quake the christian
that crucify the jew,
it’s gonna bar the torah,
build bridges upon the hindu,
god and great power,
war of mortal
where is your father,
your creator,
mother,
blesser,
such sub-deity,
such inferior,
man manifests God,
constructs the divinity
to self satisfy,
I speak no lie,
speak no truth,
just the way
of our weakness,
just another
lost boy conveying,
just a repetition
rerunning,
solving nothing,
just an artist
poetic
playing out
the crumbs of
ideas long lost
and reborn,
living on
reincarnated
everliving,
just a philosopher
readvising,
just god in
meek
human
skin,
just no one,
another voice,
another name,
I’m just you,
and we are we

We put bad people in boxes
with bad people
so multiple wrongs will make a right,
we trust our security with faces
that have to prepare a conference to tactically decide how to answer a personal question,
we smile and say good morning cause we can be bought,
we all want someone,
we all want to be left alone,
we want the lights to stay on even when we’ve voted for poverty,
we want perfection while we belittle the astounding,
we’re wearing masks cause it’s easier to be hateful and indifferent than show compassion,
while we keep begging for someone to love us,

“someone please,
I’m so alone,
please just some love…really you like that band?
that idea,
that belief?
you’re *******,
you’re weak and mentally below me as a human being,
god you actually care what I think?
you’re so pathetic,
cause I don’t care about anything you have to say,
you actually want to help me with my problems?
just because I complain every second of everyday doesn’t mean I give a **** about you caring, that’s weak.”


we have always been ******,
we have always been stung,
we have always been dumb,
and you’ll learn nothing cause no one does,
keep building bridges made of match sticks into that black hole mirror
i’m just here for the fireworks

you think you’re crazy
don’t worry,
god’s crazy,
god made the demons in his head ,
made beings to carry the monsters seething from his omnipotent,
gave you a brain beating to the chemical cocktail
blood and ****
pain and instinctive lust
gain to gorge,
you’re just the issues god takes his prescriptions for,
stop asking
pleading,
groping why,
clutch that 20,000 leagues deep self esteem
and cuddle the cockroaches slithering about your skull line,
cash the cracked aspirations
and scar barren flashbacks of childhood and fleeting “innocence”,
you’re of it
made for it
just another it in the frontal lobe of the big mans ****** ******,
bludgeon the reasoning,
the self serving
“why me?”
“why this?”
“why good?”
“why evil”
why not just accept cause and effect,
things break,
things fix,
things die,
things live,
there’s no
westernized
white bread
european cast deity judging these play toys
on a singular ignorant perspective
known as “morals”
of which we as american christians know by birth
even though perspective’s just a shaped system
clay formed by surroundings and conditioning,
meaning is a lie we manifest to make living comfortable,
accept and live,
die and ascend,
be bliss
coddle the drug,
and take your place as gods little chemical embalance

There's a tiger in the tree top,
playing checkers with the sun king,
cutting light across the cloudscape,
as black takes red for another king me,
God carves the stubble along the jaw line,
clean cut remedy
we all sing for the twenty-third century break me down,
break the matchbox,
light us up,
burn the red wood down,
tiger's gonna swallow the world,
tiger's gonna bleed a rectified rainbow realist chorus,
all the pawns are at root,
all players underfoot,
God's got checkers playing with the son killing world feaster,
tiger tiger, what do you fear?
oh tiger tiger, what hell do you bear?
oh tiger, how death plays you so
so foolish,
tiger tiger,
you fall

Where does the world go when it’s swallowed into abyss,
sodomized selectively with its own abandoned sins,
self induced lies and illogics,
it can’t drag it’s eyes across the gritted mirror,
stained scattered across its frame,
It’s drag marks burrowed into its arms,
veins a scab of ache and infected grit,
the world festers,
it’s gaunt and slender,
a skinny ****,
eyes carved deep within the bowels of its skull,
coke left overs flecked at its bleeding nostrils.

Everything is a consentuated trip,
the world’s gone sour,
look at her,
used and hollow,
thighs voluptuous,
yet bruised so tender beneath the surface,
if you could strip her skin rye and clean
to see the muscle tendons beneath
then you’d find hand prints scattered across her,
down through her curves,
violating and probing deep inside her,
no place the wicked haven’t been on and inside her.

Fingers of spider and the unnerving maggots that crawl beneath,
she scatters the buck shot shavings
abound the blood screened room of bodies and fiendish men long lost and bullet beaten,  
the shot gun barrel tokes a puff of gunpowder exhaust as she swings it levered spewing
it’s shrapnel with laughter,
and her grin,
the world’s broken smile,
disease ridden and staunched,
it burns ember as the bodies stain the hotel carpet,
stain over stain,
sin feasting on sin.

World, where does it end?
World, where?
World, will it ever end?

World, death doesn’t take a day off.