Son, you were feral to remain within your sac;
the doctor slit your mother’s perineum
and you gasp breath.                                                          ­    

My  secret to you on that  day is the same
as I whisper today;  be the rare
pearl but do not

couple yourself to a strand, I did not raise
you to be like me,
not one bit.

Outskirts Denver
highway panic
Road pac man

Find those walls kid's
it's past time
Four should do
but the roof is optional

Pull in
one car
Three puddles

No accountability here
no sane mind
No innocent persuasion

Red light haven
Named panorama
shape shifters
Cracked blinds
cancelled glances
One room
infinite timelines
Leave ours with the others

Polished and refined,
With death I have found
A life below ground
A place I can call mine
Destruction and evil deeds
A breeding of pure hate
Is all that I can create
Out of all these heartless seeds

I punch them in
To the deep sullen dirt
Water them with vengeance
And a sprinkling of hurt
Tonight is the night
I find what dwells below
I don't have a key
But I can bargain with my soul
As I place it into these seeds
I am but reeds in the grass
I'm letting go
Only Heaven knows
The blackness of Hell's wrath

I plant my lifeless soul in this plot
To groom it as it grows
So slowly that nobody knows
It's the place the devil goes to rot
Watered with tears, warmed with fire
And as time stands still, never changing
This fruition of evil continues growing
Until the depths of hell can go no higher

Then it will bloom
A flowering gloom
Growing out of control
The ground will harden
In this here garden
Fertilized by my soul

Do it to african musk.
Roll it like finely carved dust.
Hold it like dynamite just.
When angels fall, damage must.
Together bind it with trust.
Yet time goes on without rust.

As he watched the skin slowly peel from the bones,
         he remembered his childhood.
   Memories of scraping his knees
         and being fascinated with the blood
      dripping down his leg.
All the times he carefully burned
         each leg off a spider
     and studied it closely
            as it died painfully.
The first birds squawks
        as he plucked out each feather individually
               then cut it open to see it's lungs
  slowly stop taking breaths.
           Practically in awe.
    But it wasn't enough.
    
Now
     As the man lays,
         barely alive and severely broken,
   on his basement floor,  
      he feels some extreme level of pride
that he's never felt before.

    It's like...
         The more death he can create in the world
    The more alive he can make himself feel.

I have been driven mad
Looking for the words
That will enevitably set me free
Then I thought of a thing that truly must be

The incantation to break the shackles
Was never owned by me
The secret in the poems
Is that the sacred words are another's

Puzzle boxes writing desperately
Searching high and low
For a solution to their mystery
Only to find the key is a lover

Of ancient words and rhythms
The passion for magic in writing
I know this because I found truth
Within the winding words of another.