i’m followed by a shadow
figure within the dark
of who i use to be
and am today,
reflecting in mirrors
are strangers with
crooked teeth,
late at night he
whispers memories
of a twisted body
beneath frayed rope
or sometimes
holds pictures of
walls painted with
repulsive remedies
delivered
by a bullet,
he showers skull
fragments of
D and T
i always try and shake
them off of me
i can’t, it’s tearing holes
in my skin
i try to pick
them off, i ******* can’t,
he never lets me forget,
i’m trying to sleep,
he finds loopholes
in releases and
picks at calloused
hands watching
the dead skin rain
and dampen
rotting fresh,
he’s in my dreams,
he sends faceless
apparitions
applauding something
i’ve done
or haven’t done
i don’t know
he shakes babies
and laughs
waking me in
cold sweats
he tells me to forget how
to breath,
your lungs are useless
your lungs are useless
your lungs are useless

good morning

i was always told
i dig too deep into things,
a mystery it was left
until i finally fell from
the sun of innocence,
i have dug myself a hole
and found home where
no woman can latch to my heart
'cause at the end of the day
we'll both be wandering
looking for such,
i can never hold a tangible
relationship with another,
vices are consistent
and weave their beating
hearts into my skin,
i want to go back,
back to feeling,
no tremors or
tainted lungs and
poisoned liver,
back to when
the meaning of a
a wish was still
seeing candle smoke
dance above a
birthday cakes,
too many times
i try to twist off
the pop-off top
of a beer and
it dawned to me
currently,
i was once told;
"talking to you is like pulling
on a push door"
and until now i realized
the door was locked.

fixation forces your
nails to carve my back into
an abstract painting of
the way your breath
holds my face in it’s grasp,
the way your
legs tighten up as they
clash to mine.
your eyes tell stories
of how your
hair wrapped to my
fingertips pulls your head
back with eyes
blank, storylines
consisting of
the surfaced portions
screaming a crimson
cry to the hands that
caress your throat,
bearing the heat
of the constant
conflict between
your skin and mine.
whispered screams of
wanted foreshadowing
allows for bodies to
convulse at signs of
complete puncture,
vocal chords tear at
points of ******,
a sudden ******
shudder bringing vibrations
to the very being pushing
your walls
to a sexually climaxed halt.
teeth tear a chest to a skins
stretching point,
the blood
dripping down
forefront is
the morning dew
falling off an abandoned
bed frame,
tangible exhales
hit the walls,
the walls that house
the sweaty palms of
your hands as the consistent
tremors vibrate
the bed posts, expelling
tedious creeks.
waves of warmth
clash to the walls as
my fingernails
find a homaged
home amidst the
warmth of your arms
followed by nothing more
than a shared laugh and
sudden heavy breathing

1st to 2nd
      sliding
      the saltshaker
      to mom,
      the clutch
      with short breaths
      as RPM’s
      rise through my
      chest,
breath
2nd to 3rd
      tremors grab
      the wheel
      as the tires
      rapidly success
      left to right,
breath
3rd to 4th
      gravel brushed
      tread serenades,
      foot to floor
      spins the handle
      punching heart
      to surface air,
breath
4th to 5th
      a deafening
      flatline
      dwindles will,
      fog rolls thicker,
      headlights are
      painting my vision
      dimmer with each roll,
      i follow a finger
      pulling me in.
breath
5th to stop**
      face kissed windshield
      wrapped around
      nature, glass
      falling from the
      salt shaker,
      crimson
      roadkill glistening
      in accidental 4-ways.

well, i’m sitting here drunk again, alone
i remember when i was younger
i spewed evident disgust for those
who resorted to the bottle
as a release from their problems,
yet now I’m at the marrow of
the little boy’s vision,
another sip tightens the grip
of the bottle
or the glass
depending on whether or not
i want whiskey or beer
it’s usually both
I had such high hopes for my future
now my hopes are devoted
to wondering if i have enough
money for the next bottle
or case
             it’s usually both

         (II)

i don’t even have
any social networking
site to sift through,
the internet is down
maybe thats a good thing,
but lack of mental occupation
clutches my impotence towards
thinking good thoughts
or not even thinking at all

theres music playing and a drink beside me
i don’t even need to write that theres
a drink beside me anymore, its usually a
given now

i’ve finally altered the
definition of “achieved”
from optimistic to pessimistic
in the sense that i have
attained the task
of proving every simplistic
childhood aspiration wrong,

a 10 year old boy, looking at himself
now would only surface denial or disgust

                it’s usually both.

The walls stare at me 
They will never set me free
I'll always be stuck here 
Do you not see? 

They're as white as snow 
And this is why I know 
That my smile will never glow
Even if they go 

Really, I'm in an asylum
it's because I was crazy
I'm sitting in an asylum 
I know I really am crazy 

But do you know the reason why? 
It's because he killed me 
He shattered my life
And now I can't see

A crazy broken smirk 
In the darkness I lurk 
I will search for you 
and probably **** you too 

It's like a trail of dominos
I'll push you down
No sadness too low 
Aww, come on, don't frown 

Now the walls aren't white, they're stained with red
Yes it is blood, because I cut off his head
It's funny how they never saw me escape 
Creeping, slipping out of the locked gates 

The room was completely locked
Did you know how I got out? 
I was never really stocked 
They never knew what is was about

A mystery they'll never find out 
How his head got cut off
Now the both of us shout 
And then they turned soft 

Really, I'm a ghost 
And I'll feed on a host 
To be able to ****
on my own free will

Maybe it's you next
I'll quietly strangle your neck 

They thought I was missing 
They haven't checked my room
They started on the names they're listing
To catch who began this gloom

Really, I'm in an asylum 
No actually, I'm in my room 
It's just that I am dead 
but they haven't buried me yet

Once on a bed of black and gold
A small girl lay
As her father spoke of all the things she'd do someday
Her father hugged her
And she began to cry
She feared her future
She feared her life
Her father loved her
Even with tears in her eyes
And she never asked why
Because she was afraid of what the answer might be

Once on a bed of black and gold
The little girl sat in the middle of the night
Her lips trembled as her father spoke
And she could hear her mother yelling back
And she could not tell if she was more angry
Or more sad
When she awoke in the morning her father was gone
And she did not ask why
Because she was afraid of what the answer might be

Once on a bed of black and gold
The girl was touched against her will
She couldn't scream, she barely said no
But her actions showed she was struggling to get free
He stole her first kiss
But she did not cry
She was too frightened to even try
The bed became a silky red
As the evil man made her bleed
But she kind of liked the blood
So when she reached home, she made herself bleed again
But this time with a razor sharp pen
And it got to be a habit
But she never asked herself why
Because she was afraid of what the answer might be

Once on a bed of black and gold
She lay across his chest and they
Watched a scary movie
The boy got scared and he pulled her close
But the girl did not
Because she had already seen
The scariest of things
And when he broke her heart she did not ask him why
Because she knew what the answer would be

Once on a bed of black and gold
She lay in the night, wide awake
Rumors had spread, and the whole school
Made fun of her
And she cried at night
And she made herself bleed
And she remembered all the things they had said
And she finally decided to fit in with the crowd
And hate herself, too
And she never asked why they did
Because she did not want to know what the answer might be

Once on a bed of black and gold
The girl held a gun to her forehead
And mascara ran down her cheeks
And the boy that deceived her blew up her phone
And the last message he sent went a little like this,

"You need to know that you're beautiful
Its not time to go home
Please stay alive
Don't you want to know what your future holds?"

But the girl pulled the trigger anyways
And her bed turned a blood red
And she did not stay alive
Because she was frightened of what her future might be

It's a dangerous thing,
To want to be this close to someone.
But when you are skin to skin,
And mouth to mouth,
You just want to get *so much closer.