strung out on
drunk stung-drumming under this skin
isn't mine when you touch it
fight the belting, beg again
memorized muscle and music
trying and failing
melting and falling
repeat the crawling song;
confused teeth, knees
leaving feet, forgetful hand-smothered-feelings \ religious breathing, heart-beat bleeding, gentle breeze please lift my ribs with your pleases after my name leaves your gut after my nails peel you off, an ode to pretending, for stopping;
a better use of force
a better Wednesday waiting
sistering indifference and swelling on sheets never made for pigments preferring the latter again, and I
I haven't felt this way since my leaves fell
since the water settled under my belt
before & after lonely
refer me to laughter when I cannot breathe  & cry about how it'll never work

Could I see in their eyes, as I clean up this momentary
lusting, for their inner demons to released this way.
I had visions of them shouting "4,

That was going to need a ladder and I hate heights.
Well up I went in slow motion, I saw the spaces between the
claret splashes in frozen moments of nothing. Now just a coat
cold and unwarming. From up here it looked like an
abstract painting I called it "echoes of relentless madness,

It was another call out this place off a million lights  
only a fraction were braking into havocs grasp. But when
their final instant came, till it was a single moment or an
eternity in seconds, the end result was the same.

I wore a fresh suit, each being deflowered within
moments. Others lives were centimetres from mine.
They were with me through out these moments, then I
threw them in the bin like a one night stand. I left them
behind , no reason to remember names.

This  one was different, the other one was just like a
water balloon of finest red had been tossed around the
room, this one...  Charred shadows of where like a wick
They had become a light in the darkness and consumed.

Not as much blood, just dry lumps of god knows what.
I breathed quickly, a hand print on the table slightly
scorched, but the hand print still visible reaching out.

This was more a scrap and polish like cleaning spilt
cheese now carbonized on the bottom of the grill.
A hot mind is not a good thing specially when a vent
of release givesthis pressure a release. I look at it and
think to myself? I called this one "charred thoughts ascending,

I once again leave them behind, this is beyond the
ordinary job. Knocking off for lunch i see the next
piece off where my work will take me. I see them
walking and in quietened haste I lunge and inflict a
flesh wound so some may think, but an artery I have nicked .

So gently I  grazed, wouldn't want then to bleed too quick
or to slowly for that matter. I abscond in my van, knowning
the call will not be long versed just another clean up
so many in this city of lights where I calmly change
each one. As to be repetitive there is no art form in that.

To be a cleaner and to see art where others only see death
or tears. I see a deeper visions the latest in the collection
I called them "Life running dry, this was an easy clean
up, but ill have to give it a rest i earned enough from the
clean ups to sit back and watch the world move by.

Till next my artistry is mused I will think of others that
have twerked my needing a suit hangs up, each with
the name of that creation. I can admire them anytime,
and just think of the anticipation that was needed for this
depiction of my thoughts and how they bled out.

How long will you be here?
How long until you're gone?
How long until I lose control?
How long will I be strong?
I need to know the truth,
My heart is a pounding cave.
How long will I be happy,
before I need to become brave?
Although sadness is my strong suit,
I pair it with a smile.
I know love is like a ticking clock,
happiness is just for a while.

Child,
Don't worry if the shoe fits
**You can always walk barefoot.

9 times turning those cellophane pages, looking for a little sliver of comfort in between the lines of "thou shall not's";

8 years old when receiving my first condemnation to hell;

7  nights spent wondering what will happen to my soul while the molecules of my ashes find themselves stuck to the walls of hospitals and picnic benches and gas leaks on gleaming wet streets;

6 times I stared at a kaleidoscope of holy colors and listened to the words tumbling out of the pastor’s mouth like children playing sharks and minnows -- but couldn't hear;

5 times the hymns of love rang out in the steeple, and 5 times that warmth and love was able to seep through the pores of everyone, but me;

4 pairs of hands and faces turned upwards, smiling, like a child running to meet its father in an airport;

3 moments I watched salty tears drip from closed eyes, merciful mouths moving, grateful to be accepted, grateful to be saved, bodies swaying and auroras mixing in a mess of hues;  

2 times I willed the chills of spirits to roll down my spine and fill my mind with the answers I can't seem to find;

1 God I am told to put my trust in;

0 times I believed.