When I think back to the times
to close for comfort in homemade
camouflage that hides my sign that
reads;
“This man is not okay!”
I wonder if she nods her head in
agreement and agrees that yes;
“This man is not okay!”,
and yes this man cried
and yes this man wanted to die
and yes this man questioned
if living without you was to die.
We were both adamant for a ride
or die but our whirlwind was a ride
and cry,
Sin city wanted us both for cruel strict
living and forgetting how to love talking
about the apocalypse and then realising
it was our love.
Oh my love,
The best of my hearts friends,
***** dancing queen would you ever
come home to dance with me?
Smiling dancing girl with her
heart melting defiant grin running
with the rhythm but I don’t trust
dancers,
I don’t know how to dance and I
don’t dance with what I don’t know
so substance misuse makes me feel
the move but no one’s here to move
with because you tempted fate until
you discovered oblivion.

Pure white moon eyes,
Colour gravitating to black hole hearts that consumed and licked their lips.
Digest the suffering!
Exhume the pain!
Taste the galaxy!
Watch the aliens see your escape!
Inhale the stars and see the light!
Embrace the gaze of the universes empty face,
If in the bliss you find the open gates then do not let God tempt you to your fate,
Resent your faith and remind him that the sea needs you!
The moon is nothing without your gaze!
Remind him that the world is your place!
Do not venture into space with your cracked helmet dreams -
I beg you do not
For it is already a lonely race.

Misery knows you my dear boy and you know it too,
Misery follows you my dear boy and you follow it too,
Misery fills your soul my dear boy and where would your soul wonder if misery was not your chain to the world you see?
Wonder too far into the foliage of chaos, where you fire your signal but remember my dear boy that if you are ever lost do not pull the trigger because like a grave stone becomes identity - misery is the only way they’ll find you.

It’s that hard kind of love,
Where if it’s not measured by
the gram then I don’t know
what it’s worth.

Illusive to all eyes but mine and
dare do I to ponder his weaved
tales of wondrous bliss to the
unintellectual mind,
Rumour fell from lips that prey
on the herds of unified madness
without their Shepard for the
devil offered them temptation
which the Gods had failed to
fulfil without their obedience,
Quite the thrill was the uproar
and quite the performance did
their eyes devour.
For if you deconstruct the
words that spill from the
electric pink flesh then
- insanity has found you.

Someone tell me how do we run from this place?
How do we run?
Where could we go?

Maybe we could go to Mexico but speak Portuguese so they leave us alone,
But we can’t use the tickets as we’ve used them for roach as we approached the petrol station to see who remembers how to feel the most.

But then again,
I hate to think that;
Maybe we shouldn’t run.
Maybe we can’t be free.
Maybe your our freedom is when there is no we,
And no me.

I’m a deranged sociopathic psychopath with bipolar disorder because my life consists of completely disorganised order in a disorientated mind that knows about oxygen but doesn’t stop to breathe because it drowns in air that keeps inhaling the life out of me with every beat of my unforgiving heart that bows to the mercy of my unprecedented inability to feel my own soul that has a lack of appreciation for my unwanted body that was found in the lost and found nest of a womb that grew a creature with no sight because it only housed oblivion with a warm welcome to the inferno of the blinding light that appreciated death before death as it was deaf to the encumbered pink flesh of a shattered process in the concept of thinking through no mind of my own as I don’t belong I simply exist but existence is unobtainable.