feed it blood feed it *****
feed it drugs and razors
smear it with cover up
and send it off to get an education

laugh at its ******* antics
stab it in the back the way it taught you to

feed it angst and ***
feed it amusement at others misfortune

watch it spend all your money

and throw your children in a woodchipper

witness a shattering mind
observe its destructive nature

feed it smoke feed it flame
feed it heat and music

listen to its laughter as it jumps off a building
and shatters like glass on the ground below

cage this hungry twisted creature
and give in to its beautiful seduction

feed it rage and feed it poison
feed it your life
because thats what it wants
and you dont have the will power to fight

so join it in hateful self abuse
make wild love to it in the dead of night

feed it your happiness and your depressions
feed it your friends and pets
**** your family
and weep into the night with it by your side.
then smile
because its what you wanted
when you gave in

To describe the magnitude
of this awe
uncomfortable with what i saw
the density of time inside my chest
compressed and heavy
looking for rest....

I don't like the winter, because there are no flowers.

I became far too accustomed to the strange equations of words and images
that form within the ways i think and breath and am
because in doing so i forget about the ways
you think and breath and are.
im sorry.

the mood is not one for generalization
i stress not to classify, or make distinctions
and as such
my thoughts drip and fluctuate
ripe with frustration
they are ready to fall golden and fat from the tree
Leigh is a brief glimpse into the fantastic
she lives among clouds and unicorns.

Can't we all do good from thinking deeply for a little while?

we are flowing, growing. like flowers
twiddling away the syrupy hours
feverantly running, we
have nothing but our breath
free from gravity;
we are tripping, skipping. through parking lots
weary of these individual thoughts
syrup flowing over pages
times is nothing, we are ageless
conscious-less, in bliss. like serenity
but full with unearthly energy
we are chances, advances. like wild fire
running through night without tire
we are harmony, calm sea. potential
unworried by what's consequential
we are youth, love. surreality

lust runs through my veins
matching your fear
with my madness
eyes wide
you're not screaming
yet
a gleaming razor
shivers of anticipation
down both our spines
insanity sinks in
grinning
trickling trails left in your skin
easy
carving my hysteria
intricately
all over your body
your blood is intoxicating
intensifies my craving
your screams are so
gratifying
disgust smears my face
but not
for what ive done

time gives way to the broken sensation
of loud electronica
its thriving Bass has no consideration
of humanity or emotion
but we can all relate to that
its just a fact

that ours is a generation of apathy
whether it be;
apathy in contentment
or apathy in despair
we just don't care
and i am sick of those words

"i don't care."
its pure but subtle poison fed to us
from some iron tower that will never see rust
and it will never stop transmitting
it's signals to you
though it seems the message is getting through
and I'm not labelling you, lets make that clear
But I'll tell you my biggest fear:

that we're all going down a drain
and its one without love, the one without pain
'cause its the easiest path to travel
fear consumes me at this thought
for we're being turned into something we're not

but in this grey suburbia air
there is no raindrop with a pair
and i can't find somebody to love
of that; this lonely Vancouver rain will always remind me
its eternal forests dripping up from the sea

i need to unwind and find the time.
goodnight suburbia...

A bleeding gun
gave the foolish glass heart
a black rose and a silver bullet

with unwashed hands
her took her life
and laid it on his bed

shattering the glass heart
into razor sharp pieces
all as black as the rose

but none as beautiful
as the lost silver bullet
he always breaks such things

in a ***** room
the broken bottles and lost hope
out number the conscious thoughts

up a spiral of broken stairs he climbed
carrying another useless life
casting it among the bottles and misery

laying the fatal black rose
in a million shards of glass
covering the blood of the innocent

laying waste to unwanted ruins
the bleeding gun
was always the fool.

I follow cracks in the pavement
Jumping in puddles, dancing through them
i run looking for the sunlight
soft ebony tar between my toes
i feel wise, so childish and tranquil

when serenity hits me, like a quiet friend
explaining to me, the beauty, of the falling sunlight
draped across my shoulders

so i am still with the world around me
extending my arms out to embrace- it.
but all there is, is wind and sunlight
running through my fingers like a golden scarf
i almost feel it there, alone

shivering back to reality, my bare feet are cold
sudden despair floods from me,
rushing over the fields of suburban homes,
wiping away the regulation and normality
before drawing back like a tide
grinning, though tears are in my throat
i keep walking