Chill, wind on tears freeze over
Glassy eyes that can not see the disgusted expression
You painted on that child's face at the carnival.
He saw the petting zoo. Animalistic, blood and gore,
They are not friendly. Not like us, the ones who get it.
Get the fact that life goes on,
Even if you don't, if I don't. The corroded battery still works, powering
What was dead just a few minutes ago. Replace it, unscrew the panel
On my leg, I am a machine. Gears grinding, steam escapes
And I scream. I am not a sculpture. I am a real boy!
I hate that children's story. The real Pinocchio kills the maker.
I can not trust who made me, only those who help me.

It helps to be cold. Thin clothing and nothing underneath,
Help me escape, love. I need to leave this place and let the wind carry me, speak to me, Whisper the words I need to hear and
I will give you a river to swim in. Pull the silver threads that connect my heart to yours.
Make me feel again. Thaw my eyes and let me gaze into yours, see you in a way no one else
Is allowed to. And then just hold me.
All I ask is to plant my feet on the ground and run, scream,
But be strong. I can't. I know I can't be that creature running free because
I am caged. And my ice will never melt.

Not completely.

We are not pens, ourselves, red ink is not inside of us.
But we do have sensitive blood that is discolored, same as that utensil.
Difference is: it poisons us, gives us rashes and thoughts that we are not worthy to have. It wrecks our minds with ancient tools that were once unaccepted. Silly poppies can not
Ruin us like that. I know what can.
The things that worry us, teenagers and babies, parents and pedophiles;
Cease your worries. I pity you, teens.
"It is fun, it is fun." I know I know. But is it worth the risk?
Cease your worries parents. You don't need to stalk your own children.
They learn from their mistakes. They cry for a while and then get stronger.
Like I did, why I kept my mouth shut for so long,
I was better. Until you began to read. I couldn't go to you specifically for that reason,
Tightening your hold on me, mother. I am already a prisoner in my own mind.
I don't need another warden.
A century long breakthrough gave me something,an understanding that not all children accept
Their parents. I don't feel at home there.
It is not one. Just a house that I stay in, people I live with. They are family, by blood only.
****** ink: my savior. My hero, love, is you. You inspired me to digitalize, write with graphite.
But I am still contaminated, mind wandering,

History repeating, sounds piercing, a test is too much when I did not study.
Help me. The trials this has put me through are unfair. Give me my pen to sign a contract, but I
Poison myself instead. Only okay after after a needle enters my streams and takes it out.
A mechanical vampire, I prefer you to bit me instead of metal fangs.
And now I dream.
.
.
.
.
.

Or maybe I am not. We have lived as such long enough. But, still,
Write about it. Tell me how you feel. But be careful not to poison yourself.

I have experience with that. The pen has a hidden blade. It cuts you with every word you
Lay in front of you. May I be a word? Scratch my love into your skin?
I will not intoxicate you as it would. I will give you something else entirely.

But my dream ends. Reality steps on me and takes my breath from me, I am suffocating in this Hellhole. Give me a firehouse so I can put it out and drink away my parched lips.
They need to be soft so I can speak, but first... I need to
Sew my lips shut. If they are dry, they will rip and open. We don't want that.
Keep them shut, don't tear open and bleed; you would give ink poison to
Mockingbirds if you do. They mock me, copy me. They tell me they are jealous.

But why? They don't know they've been poisoned.
It is a cycle. Everyone will die of it in the end.

Feather pen, traditional; it is a lovely piece. Jar of ink,
Spilled a drop in a cracked floorboard. It spreads fast, covers the room. Isolated,
Blackened and insane. Thirty four minutes pass, not a sound.
Mind is failing: who am I? Forget your own name, voices are whispering.
Did you know lovers can find each others lips in the complete dark?
Minds reach, feel me. No. This is not dark.

This is endless, too much and too little to look for.
Skill does not matter here.
I fell down the rabbit hole, but my name is not Alice. My name
Is Death. I am a shinigami, you see. And my purpose is to cause pain and worry.
People cry for me. This dark room is where my film developes.
Picture the void that souls fall into, tortures children stabbing, cutting out their own hearts.
Write about it, children. Carve it into your skin and I will take you away.

I am her for you in your darkest hour. And I am always watching.

Never spill your blood red ink again.

Worlds coming together, scream that the things that don't matter,
Don't let the neighbor hear. Machines stab, sew, tie my mouth shut with thin cotton thread.
Purple is my favorite color.
But I sewed the wrong shape, time to start over. I have run out of fabric.
And I am broke, breaking, broken,
Don't try to fix me, you cannot put the pieces back together
With the ancient method you use. Putting clay pieces with gold,
Things are more beautiful having been broken:
*******.
It is all ruined. Plans, hopes, dreams are never real, all in my head.
A wake up call so I can chuck my alarm out the window and maybe jump with it.
Know where I am headed, some say Hell just because I tried. But I can't believe that.
Thought provoking? Good. You need to turn on that ******* brain of yours;
It is rusty. Get some CLR and clean it out just like a shower head, let the water run free again.
Gallop over naked bodies like wild horses in plain
Sight. See the things you never dreamed of, thread breaking, snapping at the seams;
Crimson silk shrivels and crumbles to the floor, looking like the liquid so many people long for.
Red wine runs through people's veins, the so-called blood of Christ that has been long dead, but somehow still teaches ignorant ******* to **** and isolate those who know the truth.
I don't believe it. Topics change and so do we, but we are stuck in a frozen wasteland, thoughts
Jumbled in a pile, never changing, ever-changing, but still the same.

Do I shock you? It is the way it is, life isn't always going to be peachy, little girl, you won't grow
Up to be famous like you want to. We all had that dream, but it unravels like the skin
That real fame paints onto you.
You will be as ****** up as I am. Writing words that no one knows the meaning to, even you
Won't know what they mean, it is a puzzle on a cell phone screen.
An infected wound from dry lips cracking, spilling blood into a kiss that was supposed to be
Passionate. But it was forced; I can call you the name in three languages: *******. Selling
Yourself for the riches that aren't worth a cent. It's drug money, I have seen it.
You will rot like the rest, and be confused as I am. Feel relieved you aren't pregnant, darling.
That will ruin your reputation, ruin your income.
But it's okay. You have a degree in law, sue the ******* that did it to you, go through the
Pain of killing once more because you did it to yourself when you were younger.

The subject seems to be sobering. More medication please, we don't want her to go insane.
Too ******* late, you *******. That happened too long ago to remember. The womb
Did this to me. Possessed me with a ghost of a sleeping dragon, roaring fire and singeing the
Tips of my fingernails. I painted them black to cover it up.
I didn't sell it, I am no solicitor, no one likes them. The hexagonal shapes I print on the snow
Come from somewhere, though. I don't have shoes, my traces in the snow are paw prints from
The realm of wolves. It is there that I am at peace, natural instinct prevails.
Tear the seams between us, dear. Take away the pesky cloth covering our natural selves and
Roam the forest with me. That is where the freaks are.

Senses explode, WWII,
Nuclear warfare on this expanse of bare
Skin supposed to be closed at my age separates,
I let the saltwater seep into this,
Slick. Time passes, hardly passing,
But, oh, how well we move.  Dance
Around our icy fire, escape from the pain
Constantly eating, feeding.
We are a buffet of things to harm
Come for another plate, fate.
Do us more harm? No. We will not stand, we can't
When we are in this state of mind. We have no state of mind,
Lust driven creatures, but we can speak. Command, tell me what
You want. You want a simple thing, but so complex.
And I want it, too, but simpler for me. A simple thing, unless thought of.
Believed in, felt deeply in ways not physical.
Arching and deepening, we will not be broken down by a measly
War outside of our windows.
Fire scorching the wooden figures, but we are sheltered by stone.
We have escaped and we are left with a heavy air and the smell
Only we can concoct. Nonexistent fabric leaving traces on my skin and yours, indent.
And your eyes are all I see, even in the dark. I know their color by heart, greenbluegrey-everchanging. But I can figure it out.
Your pupils dilate you know. You look at me and I see them. You seem drugged, dear.
Let me feed your addiction. There are many nuclear weapons left, buried
Throughout the world. We can travel and love,
Never ending.

Two. Two things that I keep forgetting, they are robbed
Out of my bank vault.
It is full of chlorine, my body reeks of it,
Taste the beautiful chemicals that are my mind.
My history.
The organization is horrible, no constellations made in my skies because
The sun is always out, masking stars and burning holes in my sockets.
I need to fix this.
Pull the beaded string dangling in this dismal room, cement walls crumbling as I dig myself
Out of this well, bricks are chucked down by laughing children.

They don't know that my ghost resides here.

I live in this dark room, where the sun never shines through the heavy velvet curtains.
Paper butterflies catching the heat from candles, singed at the edges, blue turning black,
Bruises deep, ****** knuckles wiped on your dress. Silk ruined, intimate apparel
Discarded by blood. Burn the evidence, escape the nightmare and awaken from this
Sea of chloroform.
You've been sleeping all of these years; the war, you know which one, is still being
Fought, redcoats stained with more.
That was long ago. Just sit and listen to the lecture of stories that we will never
Need to know, take notes in a screen that the pencil will scratch.
Scratches tangle, knot in my hair, so I cut it off.
Collections on the floor. Sweep the water out of the room because the flood has passed.
The house is not worth saving now.
Demolish it, destroy the silence that resonates with shadow.
Bring as one the silly waves that crash on your shores.
Correct what was always wrong.