Thank cardigan
Barbie died yesterday
because noise can be hostile
as providence fills
this hefty room.

I dreamt of caskets,
             reduced--
                      leisurely--
                              ­   into the swelling harbor
           by primitive mechanics and composed
    of broken stature.

          She dreamt of a day spent
               lazily snoozing in the
                  grass in her front yard and evenings-
          walking the sidewalks and the streets.
                 Two men grabbed her
            and she tried to scream but
                                      she could not--
                                  And it was all a little bit--
                                                           ­    horrifying.

               We sat in a tube slide.
                  She told me I was comfortable.
   I took notice to her charcoal coated finger tips so
          I asked her what she drew,
                   and she said a kangaroo,
            hiding behind a gravestone in a thunder storm.

             I was paralyzed with grief and fault
                     after leaving an old friend for
                        the final time with no farewell.
                Painful, heartbreaking in stereo.
            
      She usually had med-dead eyes and such a
                luscious smile, though
                   eyes were still like green foliage,
       which killed me with every gleam or glimpse.

    She grabbed my leg and stared at me with
                         adamant conviction.
          Distant greens now alive.
      Electric sighs and static breathes,
     words never reformed or well thought out.
Simply on--
                the--
                    spot--
                            thought...
      “Never apologize for things that aren’t your fault,” she said.
   She was only sixteen.

A Queen of the night
  And a black widow lover
     with endless alibis.
  She’ll **** eight when
         you see but one,
  Spins her web of deception
            Alongside the lives she’s won

Pawn me some pots and pans
show some chivalry and toss me some spoons
bring on the platers
and forks, knives, and the chatter
for a gallant night is about to ensue!
Candles for such an occasion
a cloth to adorn tables seems just right
put a runner on, cast a sly smile
you're in for such a delight!
We can spring for the embroidered initials
kettles for a shiny shilling would do
we're on our way to the wildebeests house
and not just any ordinary kitchenware will do!

Dearest Genevieve
   Come and run away with me
      We can buy the house we occasionally talk about
         And I'll place welcome mats in front of every single door
               Both inside
                              and
                        ­            out,
                       in hopes that a house for me
                                                    could ever be a home,
                                   Like you are for me.
                    I'll fear you  like all the rest because
                               because you are fully an individual
                          Who might decide that I'm not of importance
                                     Or worth a part of you.
                                                   And I will fear us as you decide what is right
                                                           ­  Negligence is arguably one of the greatest horrors
                                            So is the art of not knowing  
                                   But let's fix this utterly
                                                   let's think about this with our hearts
                                           We can shoot dice
                                                       and spend the night in each others arm
                                                             ­       it feels right.
                                                          ­                     Home.

We are the city
   Stumbling in ourselves
Accidents due forth
     Purpose deemed redemption
Concrete skin and metal frames
Alleys unseen and starving symphonies
           at the edge of us.
Our thoughts spread out like blue prints
          scraping against the sky as
        our hearts grow too big
             for our cages. Won't you be a part
    of my stage couch dream?

That night
when cults was blasting in your bathroom
and you were singing along
at the tip top of your lungs
that is when I knew.
That's when I fell in love with you
and all your little things.

I walk these nights
with a bone chilled knife
as eyes sparkle
with glitzing frost

Stunned, she whispered,
       *"It is like I'm combing
                through fire."

A frigid breeze
cloaks the profile
of my form
shaves the contours
of my face
electrifies the capacity
of my lungs
in a bare blackness
of a night animated
by casted
stars.

You cheat on me with
them and lie to me
about it. It makes
me want to throw up.
It makes me hate
myself deeply. It brings
back memories that are
disgusting.
Hurt.
Abuse.
Suffocating.
That's how it used to be.
"Swallow!"
Harshly said, because
they hate you, and so
do the rest.
Cough. It's infecting
my lungs as well.
You shouldn't exist. Stick
out your tongue and we'll
put this lit demon
out on it. Taste the
defection and the ash. Feel
the burn. Enjoy the
hatred and sick
pleasure they take in
the action of the cause.
We know it's wrong
and we choose to look
past these pains. Selfish affect
effects our better selves.
How does that feel in your
stomach? It felt depressing
as they force slid it down
my throat
in all literal terms.
They laughed. And
yelled. Development of
a physical sickness in my
insides and in my
mind. Make this stop. Please,
stop... Why can't you choose
me over them? No one has
ever chosen me over it all.
I can't deal with this cycle.
I can't remember. Something
will have to change.

My hands are cold
and I'm hungry
dead in drag
at the age of twenty
missing pearl
isn't that funny?
Kids are gone
and it's not yet Monday

Reams of paper lay still at your feet
words once written, your desolation

Notes torn and shifted litter beneath,
tread softly and expect nothing in return

The coward's heart locks inside
the words you seemingly long to sing

Throats on pause and agony in slow motion,
gaping mouths flood though all is silent

The pictures depict other places
in times so foreign and unfamiliar

Your pen is stilled, young girl,
and your grip explodes into bits and pieces

Tender care and triumphant losses,
your words tumble on to the ground

The evidence on clear display,
reams of paper at your feet

Clutch your weapon to your chest girl,
as swirls of dust encircle your body

In your sights terminals exist,
and hope is scrawled by your literate hand

Eyes strike deviance and choices deem unworthy,
as they cast aside your failing graces

Such is life, young girl,
smoldering in reams of paper at your feet

Excuse me sir
the mirrors talk
and in this hole
they say you can reach a million
that you can stir wonder in many
but it's cheap entertainment
really though
it's all in good fun
I say it's just a start

It's coursing
as of right now
trampling feats
and feets alike
cramming counterparts
and awe
into a shed of a shack of wood
on wheels
pulled by once brillig
and bluderbus boys
but the appalling truth of the matter
is it'll downpour
and quench this parade
even if it's pace is merely strolling
in about an hour and a
twenty
you better get rolling
you wouldn't want to go
and miss the best part
just like life
now would you?

Caught within this cold violence
deep in these thoughts of a
heated silence
between the sighed gasps and
the boisterous breath crawling
defiantly up my nostrils.
A multitude of  feelings,
not at all as pleasant as the screaming
curve of her back, kicking
back the air
with flicking hair,
shivering in quaky warmth.
This exploring, it's an eclipse
of passion reeling to the undertones
underlying the scattered sensations
that appear
in bursts of spontaneity.

Love is
semi consensual
sweet nothings
a film
a suicide deduction
a noir
for the contender
playing out like
a dark comedy

Take to the rhythm like blood to white
The right to write what I want
The flight from flight to height
Basically from the bottom to the tip
Top tip my top off and hope the hearts
not too hot
Memories fade, thoughts rot
Full conversations condensed
to abbreviated talk
You can see it when I walk
Memory shocked, my brains been
rocked
Too bad I forgot what I was taught
inside my mind fought
To remember but
my brains dismembered
I shouldn't've tampered with
the humane thermostat
just left

My mind is a box
locked
by a cracked clock with
no hands
spreading out the seconds
stalling for interpretation
so it will open for no man
but I feel your sand seeping in through the side
an hourglass time bomb,
arm thrown back, prepared to arise
toss it on it's sideways
embedded in a moment
that I don't want to flip upright
keep it here distorted.
I would run
but I know there is no where
to hide imperfections,
reflection on my window,
pain behind every door
I can make across this quick sand floor
if only to catch up
to the past.
I gave up when your lips met mine.
If there was a purpose left
it will never show this time
because now it's all spent
and tearing apart my mind.

It's funny
you were there the whole time
right in front of my face
I talked to you everyday
(even when I told myself I wouldn't)
as you supported my ever crumbling
self.
Reluctant in giving me up
or giving up on me
as half the time I was half blinded
-doubting
-second guessing
feeding myself uncertainties
while believing the lies of others.
Yet you remained here
through it all
after everything I've ever
engulfed into your life.
-pain
-heartache
swept into your life without warning
the empty words that secretly
were teeming with a truth even I hid from myself
but I knew it deep down.
I really did.
And I thought about it a lot
(thought about you a lot)
and yes, there you are
in front of me smiling, still here
after all that I put you through
holding my hand beside me
and finally, I see it
and it is mine
and I've never been happier.

Just want an excuse to kiss me
not allowed
please would you like to
stop that this instance
I can’t see over you
your forehead
and high horse
it's going to have to learn
you need to actually
shut the door
and shut your face
stop that ****
is it cracked?
Go back and stack that
thank you
give me some credit
I like the music
and I do this for a living

I looked into your eyes today
as we sat in brown plastic chairs
like we do every Tuesday,
routine to discussion and group.
In that moment, my head lost itself
completely
spinning into a state that I find
leaves me feeling content.
All that came out of my mouth
was the absence of words,
and fumbling to think straight
I look away in a strange and rushed silence.
did we really just make eye contact?
and I gripped your hand tighter
as I simultaneously fought memories
that battle me relentlessly
assured though
that I'm not alone with this
and how I crave another dance with you
in the rain.

I was walking down the street
and i realized what it had done to me.
Carborators and steel words,
they were inflamed in my throat,
but two times as powerful
as that acident that I had done.

Or was it on purpose?

I cant tell anymore because what it is
and what it's not
is meshed into silence.

I brought it up to the good one
and the other claimed it false.

I fought my way in but
clawing out is a different cycle.

I want this to taste like sanity,
fibers of fear stretch across the bedding of this body.
Without corners folded neatly
and windows washed clearly,
bring me this satelite
thats recording my regression,
this abuse that is embedded
in a  certsin valuable location.

I want it now,
more than anything
but what I need is a checkbox marked blank
stares as it reaches my lungs.
Captivating strides and notes just as powerful.
I need to brand it in
and cut it out.

By force
or
by nature.

It is sick,
it's psychology,
leave the witness crying.
Tell their subconscious it could have been
them instead.
It's ruthless and confining,
bringng me to fresher level on low.
I think I need it now,
sitting still in the jury
knowing all too well.
It never attacks...
just once.

Take to the rhythm like soot to white
With the right to write what is coming off strong
The flight from flight to the unwanted height
Basically from the bottom to the frivolous tip
Top tip my top off
and hope the heats not too hot
Memories condense, liquefies
and fades as thoughts rot
Full conversations melted
to abbreviated and bottled talk
You can see it when I walk
Notice memory shocked
Too bad I forgot what I was taught
inside my mind
created, "controlled", fought
To remember and scribe
but my brains
dismembered
I shouldn't tempered with
the humane thermostat just left

The scariest thing
is when you are sitting in your room
not doing anything
it's dark
and you're drifting between sleep
and remembrance
when suddenly a poster falls off the wall
or a pen rolls unexpectedly
or something falls over
and you just think...
         *...it’s coming for me

You’re a stranger
passing by
and I’m just a strange one
simply passing time
and though I could never deal with you
your sanity
your lack of person
or anyone else’s
I’d marry you in my mind
without passing judgment

A white wedding
time starving our imagination
till the memories arise
playing oblivious to our loss of control
and the guests flood in every crevice
and what is substantial envelopes the dream
imprisons the state of self worth
and occupies the generally vacant
back of the mind

Shake off the dwindling bravado
it was an erroneous tick
digging under your skin
speculate it as it happens
from the alter
ticket stubs and anxious smiles for entry
and ropes to keep you enthralled
until someone else’s all
decides to usher in
the divorce.

And such is my relationship
with this human condition;
Extremes in the privacy
in my being
Extremes in inhabitants
of the world around me
all contrasted
to the barren landscapes
in the land they walk on.
Crystallized
and in slow motion
a hologram of the world
all in the very moments
before we swallowed it whole.

Bruises tell that in
a heartbeat I'd give myself
as foreign armor

I want to be immersed in the emotion
I want to feel it as it gasps from within your throat
revealed, shocked just as I'd be
scared, but sure of it's riveting truth
when you speak those words to me.

Once Upon A Time
with paper strips
Her tongue was tied:
exploring the streets and alleys
of a mouth and a
mind that's closed
-the conflict and sinking-,
picking locks to lost doors with
fingertips sharp and anxious
for purpose,
exchanging shapes and colors for
thingsalittlemoreuncommon.
Laser eyes intent
on drawing out a line
between the free blue skies and
the vibrations of an understanding.
Held loosely and feebly
coaxed back to sanity,
who could blame her?
Rolled away in a dream
towards a goal of never waking,
"If I never wake up, then this
is my reality."
What words are these that stumble
out between lips once secure?
Never before, nevermore, a fool
for clever lines strung clumsily
and unsure.
And now with words,
walking alone ,
observing things with a little bit more dignity
and a little more appreciation,
there she lurks,
slyly in sheltered "safety."

What was once used
is now hung up on walls
decorations
once toiled in work
for the eyeing pleasure
of the inconsiderate

Future breeds
with consequence needs
all in the moment now
that’s right
the morrow is a sorrow
and subject satisfaction
Go on
the hangover
headaches to balconies
happiness in LSD
and the rest of the brigade
because you're a born showman
with zero results
Two times out of ten
you don’t have the call
vanities aside
I’m giving up on all of the toxic
you can’t possibly begin to imagine
how little you seem now

On occasion I suffer depression
I question:
what's real, what's good, what's bad?
How long can I keep a bag on my head
before I am dead?

Bad ideas.
I seem to have a lot of them.
When I get with bad people
I show up the lot of them.

I can be a leader,
packaged, sarcasm included,
but as a speaker I want to taunt
the devil with level minded biblical teaching.
Not a wanna be preacher but
I know some people who need some words
and a gesture.

All my life they told me I am prophet,
but next to that they say my life is off it
and its a pent up name in waitng.
I want to be more but I cant open my minds door,
it's a road block
it's a nonstop flood of doubt and pain

I feel alive
getting sick in the rain.
I feel alive
straining my back to lift the troubles.
I feel alive
when adrenaline rushes my brain and
my lungs scald from running after that after thought cause.

Legs so spent that I could collapse if it was socially acceptable
But those are mild highs compared to my so called bible side
When I walk the straight and narrow I have
guardians and sparrows watching my back
nothing can attack
me
nothing and no one can save
me
And I feel so happy
and different

So I think even though it's going
it's not going well
and if I don't make a choice
I am going to hell
And if you know me
and you know me well you know:
I love them some
and treat them well.

Doors enclosed in cases of fiends
monsters delusions infest
the heart where
we are all hiding something,
deep in places replaced.
Cheap thrills with an appetite
present your squires!
For laces tied
snap back and
the rope is
broken. We must accept
these times. Disposable
materials for such systems.
What is grounding
you now?
I think we'd all like to know.

I'll invade your dreams ,
wake you up in a bed sweat
make you sleepwalk through all the things you haven't felt yet
enough is never enough
but what I know is what I know
most things never need a spoiler warning
because they aren't fresh in the first place

What is it with you
and pictures of "attractive" girls
with their cigarettes
and half naked bodies
as I'm left standing with my Turkish Royals
watching this
helpless
accompanied by a heavy heart
and ash on my pants
weighed down by your
judgment and disgust?

I really couldn't
decide what was supposed
to occur, but I realize
the fact that in a crowded
room, I will constantly be searching
for those eyes that hide what is
actually happening behind
that mask and inside the
stashed away parts that are
in fact true and pure.

Throwing up rainbows
of memories now
I just don't know what to feel right now.
Falling from euphoria
"I'm fine" is the simplest statement.
You've got to make the best of it.
Would you please clap your hands?
All dolled up
we're all gonna die
this scientific illustration
is telling us to lend a sitting ovation
as in other news
nostalgic nonsense
as people all over the world hold hands

Instead of film
(which you cherish so much)
I feel the need to develop pictures
of the very sensations
that erupt in your mind
and tingle throughout your body
in every which way
and i m p a c t.
I'd  post them on the walls
just as they are
in their prime
of
    beauty,
             malice,
                         faults,
                                 honesty,
an exposure of how human you are
lest you forget how to feel
or the emptiness is relishing inside
a collage that is whole
*and you.

Simple puddles
meddled with strange reactors
dazzled curtains flooding with
double stacked tacks
hung high up in the rafters
along with sided refuge,
you're out there lying
and feeling nothing at all.
Tinted blades
to offset this norm
making  irony just a tad bit more distant
distraught with worry
and hand spun skepticism
as each time you make your word
mean just a little bit  less.

365 days ago
I met you
well sort of anyways
in the strangest way
and 365 days ago
I would never know that impact
that is sorely does now
because a year ago I was a clean slate
and now I feel the reverberations
of strong words being forever scratched into my chest
tattooed into my sternum like the biggest regret
that the cover up story is "for the art"
though behind my teeth I know
false tones come from my throat

The fatal bleakness erupts
from my every pore
as I release you into
the wind
like a balloon.
The string,
once attached to my wrist,
tied so intricate, so carefully
Protective-
was (is) an anchor.
Away you go
into thin air
like you had never existed before.
I watch you dissipate,
dissolving right before my eyes.
A magic trick.
I toss up my hand
outstretched, vacant in hopes for you
but all I grasp
is nothing.
All I can simply get a hold on
is nothing,
nothing at all.

A false warmth begins to fill the brim
ready to show the world,
I am ready to wear
that mask as
best I can.
This new excitement,
wrapped around me,
burns with flames
of new found passion
and of thrill and anger and disbelief.
I don’t understand
any of it
anymore.
That feeling,
again ignited,
within my heart—
which tremors a bit in return
with the reminiscence.

I had never thought
happiness was possible,
for me,
again.
Yet—
here she sits
beside me
as I’m seated here
in an invalid happiness.
Oblivious.
Beaming from ear
to ear
like this is normal,
like it’s quite alright to
be this way.
What is defective
is nothing.
What is clear
is nothing,
and there is simply nothing wrong,
nothing at all.
Here in her false happiness,
in her negligent lies to herself.
And me,
in my hidden misery
and my lies to everyone else.
There she sits
And then…
Release.

I'll forever be
the setting sun
in a west side story
a toppling calamity
bleeding out my color
and breathing it back inside
an art anomaly
smiles from beneath the bed
all too swift now
in the creases of the night