i.

  truth is clever
  when you underestimate
  him,  the moment you
  are sober he will
  excavate the flesh
  from your
  fingernails, grazed
  out with
  his fugly ones,  

  and while you wail
  in this agony,
  this soundless saliency,
  you will seize
  only for
  this fragile moment
  and only then will you
  cultivate what is true,
  the truest and the truest
  fallacies.

  it is only
  like this  
  when it hurts.



ii.

  i like the smell of
  rain because it smells
  of absolutely nothing,
  and it reminds me that
  nothing
  can really be everything
  because nothing is what is real
  and nothing is good,
  and nothing is better than
  happiness,

  but really, nothing is
  the only nothing,
  the nothing that
  can surrender
  this theoretical emancipation,  
  this sugar that tastes like
  cardboard and crack,
  this chemical that
  is white enough
  to bleach away
  sins with cold
  fire.  



iii.

  i'd rather believe
  in the bruises
  around my neck,
  lynched by
  the metaphysical ribbon that
  ties me to reality  

  than to believe
  in the bruises
  that appeared
  on my brain,
  raw from the world that
  is fabricated by a
  *******logical
  malice derived
  by a mind  
  like yours.



iv.

  am i merely a nudiustertian,
  and the monsters before that
  and the carcass after

  or am i simply a demonised mother,
  of 'duplicity' and 'profanity'
  or any other piece of lexicon that
  defines a rapture between
  the word 'human'
  and the word 'sublime'.

Do not flaunt your jewels
on a friday night,
killer eyes are everywhere,
waiting for their flight

When I say jewels,
you know what I mean,
There are no exceptions,
on bright human brains.

Do not give chance,
Not even a glance.
for the mystic mind strikes,
hidden and in advance.

Just a piece of advice,
My dearest friend,
Do not be surprised,
nor be bent

for your religous pal,
is one of them,
Commiting a crime,
Behind his eye stem

Taking advantage,
of every opportunity,
he's  so inclined,
on the opposite of chastity

Just a reminder,
I know you know me.
don't flaunt your jewels,
Because it's not for free

There is one that has a head without an eye,
  And there's one that has an eye without a head:
You may find the answer if you try;
    And when all is said,
  Half the answer hangs upon a thread!

Illuminating light
from a booklight in my bed
I do not read; I write
of the feelings from my chest
I’m flying like a kite
and you’re ******* with my head
We always say goodnight
when we lay ourselves to rest

Maybe someday
We could sit on our rooftop,
(It's yours and mine together)
And we could watch the birds fly by,
The people drive by,
And we could talk till the moon is overhead.
Maybe we could wake up in the morning,
Coffee brewing,
Filling our kitchen with the smell.
And we could make each other breakfast;
Eggs and biscuits and sausage,
And perhaps a stack of pancakes
If we're not too sleepy.
I don't like the feeling I get
When I realize how far all of this is,
How far away we are from making this a reality,
And how far away you are from me.
My generation screams for instant gratification,
And the clock keeps ticking so slowly.
I don't like to think,
About the dollar bills,
And the exhausting months of work.
And I don't want to remember
How alone we both are now.
I just keep hoping that maybe someday
We won't have so much distance
Between us and dreams.

I am ****** without a thought
of all the things that I forgot.
I'm busy standing in the rot
of everything thing that I am not.
I am **** straight out of luck,
Its a cliche to rhyme with '****'
but, I'm just not original.
I'm scripted by my ridicule
and I ****.

Why is it that we live two lives?
There's one for truth and one for lies.
I'm getting sick of alibis.
I'd rather we just compromise.
You can't see what I've been seeing.
Truth be told, it has not been easy.
I could tell you anything and you'd believe me,
but that's the same **** thing you've been achieving.

I am Temperance. I am Love.

I am the big, black, stomping boot
that crushes your glass heart
into one hundred thousand tiny broken pieces
beneath its sole.

This is me.

Your silver-winged Dovelet,
Your battle-wearied cooking pans,
Your thousand blood-kissed roses,
and diamonds cutting up your hand.

A butterfly flick-
           of lashes on your cheek.
A kiss-
        that is death.

That we may know despair.
That we may know anger.
Fearing our lusting, yet lusting still for fear.

The Puritanical Fury of being Unrequited--
Unnoticed--
Unloved.

Turned away. Told to accept our falls with grace and dignity.

I say **** it!
I say stand!

Raise your bolts of white-lightning fury and
Do a little heart stomping of your own!
Crush as you are crushed.
Devour those who would devour you!

We are one. Ill-matched, lace-broken, burned-fingers pair.

Upon each other we wreak and reap--
        Only natural weapons allowed: Misery, Condescension, and
                                                             ­           ***-Holery.
No K-Bars, surgical tubing, duck-tape or ****-******* false ***** available.

Do me right.
***** me right.
**** me over with that one hated word.

I have no temperance.
I will love.