to make it to heaven
you have to wade through hell
the pearly gates are hidden inside the gaping maw of a black sea monster
and with just you
your two hands
two feet
left brain
right brain
you have to walk through the fire
feel the parts of you which are not essential burn away
and by the time you're through hell
you realize that heaven isn't a place
it's person you saw in the mirror all of those years ago
that the lives we live imprisoned on the other side of the glass

you made some choices
maybe the only choice you made
was to let somebody else make all the choices
but you are excellent at finger pointing
and complacency
even better at keeping your mouth shut
great at getting ******
weekends don't mean the same to you as they do to others
you spent your only free time getting higher or lower than the others
pop a pill
take a shot
or burn a fatty
we're all committing suicide in some way
we're all born under the death sentence of a clock which only runs backwards
time is limited and is not something we get back in change from a cash register
or in a tip from some ******* customer who is so much more important than you
the kids are all smiling and laughing with ease
and you hate them for it
jealousy is one hell of a vice
and on those nights were you gripped the pillow tight to your chest just not wanting to be alone
you always are
and your alarm clock is always set for 6:45
in the AM
and you don't get home until 5:30
PM region
you give and give and give and wait and wait and wait
just like they told you to
because God forbid you try to take it
make it break it fake it or forsake it
just get back in line
the bouncer will let you know when you can come in
a 25 to life cover charge required,
of course,
and put your lighters and rags and spirits away
this won't be the day you crack
and burn that palace of mediocrity to the ground
paste that big plastic plaster smile on your face
grimace because it's about to come out of you
"Thank you sir. Have nice day. We appreciate you business."

I could type this in all caps
to show you I'm screaming
I could live my life behind a fist or switch blade
to show you I'm desperately close to falling off the edge
I could treat you like a *******
to show you I'm only talking to you for one thing
I could cut tic tac toe into my wrists
to show you my own spilled blood is just a game to me
I could be the person they want me to be
I could be the person I should be
But I'm not
I don't
I won't
I live behind a mask made of keystrokes
and one too many silences
waiting for the ropes binding me to fray enough
where my getaway isn't front page news
but a part of a much bigger legend

perched in a thick mess of pine trees
my head rotates three hundred and sixty degrees
scouring for the vermin I make my prey
I own the night time skies
silhouetted against a harvest moon
death is coming in my dreams
and with it comes new life
wisdom of the self
aware of the lies which cover the world in its blanket of grey snow
the owl lives in my skull

The coyote stalking the empty desert highways
looking for roadkill
looking for the weak and alone
I cackle into the dead sterile air
for every pack member lost to poachers
manic laughter for every left turn which results in dead ends
stealthy patient
hungry and haunting
the coyote treads the territory of my atriums and ventricles  

The hawk circles in the blinding midday sun
a deadly serrated dagger with wings
arrow let loose from the quiver of the Gods
impossible to tether and domesticate
finding ultimate freedom in the vast openness of the sky
lock on,
tuck the wings,
nose dive deep into the waters of the ****
a creator
a teacher
a messenger of truth
the hawk soars in the infinity of my soul

ID
EGO
SUPEREGO

I see them walking down streets with names like
old buckingham
old gun road
westchester common street
robious
hugenaut
broad
grace frankling main cary
carry the weight of a group of ****** up **** ups
trying to "make a difference"
delusional *******
difference is made from killing a status quo
and their hands shake like childrens'
take a stake in the mental quake of the plasticity of the fake looking for mates
I'm tumbling down sure fall peak
free fall
until falling free is forgotten as a quest
childe roland to the dark tower came
yeah I went to college for a little bit there
broke out when I broke out of a sane frame of mind
swallow the sludge created by incontinent consumerists
snakes on trees make better friends than invisible fathers
but get these depressed lunatics out of my sight
feeling a fight bubbling up
complaints are for the complacent
so I don't see you
fear or hear no evil
evil makes good possible
using my vice versa as my vice
quoting bible quotes verbatim
I don't ft right
jigsaw piece chewed up by toddlers
jam me into place
and cover me in duct tape to silence the protests

please Lord this boy need's Jesus
**** that
tell God he needs to find a shrink
no a priest
no an altar boy getting ****** by the father
woops that one slipped out
like they slipped the boundaries of good taste and human decency
I'm a nightmare for the nice folksy people
I take their money
put in the church's biggest mausoleum
and burn it to the ground
take the daughters and sons
to the state border and set them free with a 24 cent phone call
inhale the night until we're all exhaled
pack my heater close to my business
walking with nerves taut
the breath breathed out by every man before the electrical storm
drinking fire in purgatory alley
until the gut glows hello
I slug back another PBR and let the night current take me
it's all alright
tonight we howl at the moon until it picks up the ****** phone
and we domesticate the domesticated in the art of the primordial
take a life tonight
yours his hers
it doesn't matter
we're all sprinting to the after life
and digging through earth is easier than ascending from earth on clipped angel wings
keep on slitting your wrists
and I'll keep on drinking your blood

forty ounce of miller happiness
the champagne of suicide
cut it back
smoke a pack of camels
smoke another
buy another
only fifteen bucks,
**** it right?
7-11 buffalo chicken rollers
to soak up the chemotherapy
track marks from the lighter burns from the space needle injections
smoke a **** pack
then another
then another
and re-up on GB's until the room starts to carousel
now onto the ****** fratboy lime-a-rita's
**** the 12'er
then it's hard stuff
like george dickel, cracken, and Jameson
still able to count the toes on your feet through your shoes
then add another witches brew to the cauldron
go out armed with three good friends and a knife
pavement pavement pavement
ladies
strangers
strange women
conversation
the most addictive drug of them all
take the shotgun in the mouth
and feel everything pop black
wake up next to a faceless face
send her home
go to work
write a poem
do it all again