Go on and write, if write you must.
But you're words are hollow,
and not one will I ever begin to trust.
Talk of today, of yesterday, of tomorrow.
Talk of frailty, of failure, of innocence and lust.  
They are all hollow,
and not one will I ever begin to trust.

Go on and write, if writing will heal.
But you're words are whispers,
and not one can I begin to feel,
breathing down my ears and standing my hairs.
They are hollow, pitiful, and unreal.  
Go on and write, and see if I ******* care.

15-10-19
I want you to read this.
Know that I'm a psychopath.
It would be easier if you hated me for creeping up your neck.
For holding a snare around your ankle.

For being obsessed and inhuman.

If I'm not human. If I'm not real. I cannot be hurt.
And since your opinion matters the most in this hour, tell me I'm surreal. So I can surrender.

~

Barefoot.  
Floor.
I wish you could see me now.
Slowly moving my body to his lyrics.
"Oh mother I can feel.."*

Breath in my mouth so I won't die.
If that lust is too mad.
Then bury my flesh and mind among the soaked leaves.
As long as your skin grab my limbs, I'm fine.

white powder mildew in my ears
whisper something I can hear
it's fear
give me something to harness
maybe fill this emptiness
it's clear
two blue eyes and a mouth full of doubt
I want to hear you shout
that you're here
Feeling broken all the time I lose myself
within the rhyme
my dear

cold winters rain
weathers game
I'm feeling insane

I'm a black dove
you're a green-leaf newt
I'm not sure what to do

green leafed crystals canopy
over me like
a cave
surrounded by a miracle
working but never
a slave
no dreams could dare to stand against
such a sweet
magnificence.

in the wind
they bowed
as I danced
in and out,  through & through
small white plastic
cubes
inescapable t a n g l e s
reach up and under while
imagining

all the
                        a
                            n
     ­                            g
                              l
                         e
                    s

Don't warp it into something that never was.
Just a game we played inside our heads with our hearts.

Failed predictions of a future that could never be.

You'll only ever be you.

I'll only ever be me.

Time when imminent begins
when the twins start to smoke
money for old rope
new lamps for old
give me your lead
and I'll turn it to gold.

Pay your tax and relax
you've got nothing to do
pay the rent and the
home's free
they've got nothing on you.

When imminent begins
when the fat lady sings
when you're out of the frying pan
and into the fire
we'll see who the liars are then.

There is thunder afoot
I don't think it's a train
more machinations
to imagine a brain
that never sleeps
always keeps
an eye
on the background.