All I can do is stare at void.
And goad it into movement.
Asking it to soothe me.

Darkness, Blackness.
As I breathe in.
As I breathe out.

Only way I sleep, is to tuck myself calm in the dark matter.
Not that. Absence of anything,
Nothing,
But the concept of “all” stuffed into one corked universe.
To be shaken.
To bubble me into a dream.

Hiding behind rocks once I get there.
Hiding behind nothing inside of my own eyelids;
This has been happening since I was five.
Shivering, quivering, shaking, in a pit of *****,
eyelid color.
False chromatics.

I think it won't get any better.
I've always felt powerless.
Night makes me scared.

I stay awake.

I fake joy.
I pretend intelligence.
I'm a scared ventriloquist doll hoping no one puts their hand up my ***.
Not to Act.

Tossing and turning the ragdoll of my body,
My soul contorts to the visage of women.
Nuns with blood for eyes,
Entire memories dying.

If stars were real, they'd light my visions.
The back canvas of skin that projects my minds lens,
Lends to my own coward binge,
In my mind I'm a crippled victim of sleep and taunting of every hurtful human haunting that there is.

They all laugh at me.

Back drop and back bone of this canvas has cracked. The Painting Failed.
Spine of every book written about my memories, has been crumbled. Never Published.
In a corner, in every room there's one of me. Ghost Blocked Limbs.
A Hagfish who writhes in the dead body of his own spirit. *******.

The Lowest of Existence.

I left my heart in a dumpster.
My life in a gutter.
I shutter when i whisper,
We once loved one another.
As cold naked in the alley,
Under street post lamps.

Dark and damp, dark and damp.
I lay heaving cramps.

Everything is ugly its all grey,
As dust storm in the dead sea,
Every blink,
sand will fling,
to my eyes in my dreams.

The dust cant cover up your trashed out corpse.
Holes in your neck and feet,
I listen to your voice.
Save me. Save.

Longing and craving.
Save me. Save.
Death for today.

This desert of the city behind the pizza parlor.

I haven’t left this spot since it happened.
In between this depository for waste and my own waste of space.
Phantoms **** themselves, picked on by rats and freegans, and murderous ruffians of soul.
Everything here in this xeric hole.

Kills. Just kills.

No. Save me. Save.

I couldn’t my darling now your lost to this ****.
And with you alone my body shall die.
I shall lay with it here under this deadlampost moonlight.

We lay exhumed, tissues being destroyed by fungi,
destroyed and hungry, dead and corpsing,
mute, yet singing.
exalted, grieving.
love couldnt save us, yet the powers that be,
neglected our bodies,
lead our essence to become one with the streets.

I'm standing on weird edges
There's blood in the sky
There's a boy named Pi.

The night is black, so
old blood.  So cruelty,
I've had enough.

I was born with barbed-wire sickness.

Is your blood running high?
Blood is life,
don't spill it.

Watch the mind of day
become the mind of night.
Better is the house of mourning,

better the sky at night,
I can hear God better.
Blood runs from our eyes.

Are you facing the sky,
boy named
Pi?

covering the world
that I see
covering you
is a layer of personal
poetry
a language illegible
if not invisible
to all
but I see it
and sometimes I write it
in a different language
to make the world see
just how beautiful
you are

Blank page
soon to be filled
with
all heart
needles in each cell
burning in all
muscles
sleep in all eyes
testament to having
all given up already
cliché
action of morbid
sadism
this place, *******
that place, worse
“Nothing will change when you get there.”
People don't.
Places don't.
High buildings,
they are not sails.
To distant lands
where everyone is in love
and time is perfect.

Instead.

It's gutters, toxic.
It's sewers, pollution.
It's ******, it's *****,
It's an emetic given ******,
as one force fed ****.
It's lonely.
It's alone.
It's time.
It's empty.



________________


­
It's loveless, callous, wrong, degenerate.
Empty,
empty,
empty, again and again.

No these buildings only
house the soulless vessels
of dead.

They are death.
The lights.
They are the city dying.
The skyline.

A skeleton.

Bleeding out
the last
blood in
it's marrow.

The City is dead.