i fell into a deep hole
6 feet steep in demented people
a crimson liquid comes up
from subtle muddled tugs of
dark artistic blades
sharpened & parked in place
are scarring my heart from the arch in my back
while i'm starting to starve for a part of your laugh
but your stabbing tactics,
adverbs grabbed to get me back with,
are childish attacks on your selfish self for what has happened
you cant even admit the **** you brag about in private settings
& you'll deny & lie to try & find a way to die without regretting
but i guarantee it wont work
i've been there when i was younger
you're just building up the thunder
to be burned & buried under
& the stress is infested with aggressive death messages
when all your best friends' chests are ****** messes

honey i'm sorry
that the sun goes down
when you kiss another's lips
with an open mouth
i tried to tough it out
but its over now
you surely showed me how
to feel worse than the dirt
on this frozen ground
where the roses drown
next time i hear lies
at least ill know the sound

i failed to mention
the frail dimensions
of my pale existence
no details specific
just the vaguest senses
of a plagued decision
that locks my life in prison
for an extended sentence
but when you inch in to visit
i get intricate visions
with our limbs all twisted
in romantic antics
& the only thing between
you, true love, & me
besides bedspreads & sheets
is my dead self esteem

sleep
is just a metaphor for
deep dream seeking.
chasing dragons & demons
through a seamless sequence
of events which
defy all weakness
with tongue in cheek
& grinding teeth
toward bedsheet beacons
bright light beams
that scream through
bleak dreamscapes.
but better your head
than these streets & freeways..

take these
automatic habits you implanted
in the back of my hands
that inflict dents in my relationships
whenever my muscles twitch
out of happiness
my fists clinch
in expectance of negative

for years i've churned
through dirt for
the perfect words
but i keep hitting
the same old sacred
volcanoes of phrases:
some molten emotions
long left unspoken
that simmer in soil
til they spurt up like oil
& man's machines toil
to collect every speck
of that liquid that's left.
now there's not a noun for me
just my igneous ignorance.

wind spins
leaves gently
on concrete
oddly
falling feels free
no more
filthy guilt please
swinging cleanly
the breeze breathes easy
& leaves gain speed
with disbelief
in gravity
or maybe they know they don't
need it