Thrashed interminably
to find a Death
like this,
Death like this;
digs d
          e
            e
               p
                 ,
to make      room,      for you:
that
obdurate;
                    swart;
                  ­             gelid;
                               merry-go-round.
In the centre of
                    maelstrom;
tranquility lives,
as 393 echos evaporate
                                 amid Amaranth
                                 & Hibiscus,
                                 Amen.

Inside: rot,
      outside: youth,
                        a black heart;
                              beating just for you.
          You love the man
          under the mask;
           that ghost vvhom nobody else knovvs.
This front rovv seat to the cogs:
I trust you in degrees,
that leave me exposed to your fancies.
Cut me open; non gingerly,
tonight.

The heart;
in all of it's tragic
cocksure
glory,
is nothing
but a victim.

I've hollovved out a hallovv realm;
vvhere only boneships sail,
vvielding verbs of vengeance;
My vvords float on flesh.
Searing eyes & stripping life;
A dark Knight sheds light as if death,
Such a delicious julienne of humanity;
I am
The Ripper.

I have a friend
He drives a truck for a living
He is someone vvho I've never met
One that I trust and trusts me
He has my home address
Sometimes I imagine him to be a truck driving serial killer
Not sure vvhy that turns me on
Every time I come across one of his photos
I save it
I revievv them often at night
vvhile lying in bed
I knovv it sounds vveird but so ******* vvhat!
He's avvesome
Like vvhen the sun crests over my messes
I have a friend
&& in my head he kills you

A boy sits alone blinking away falling rapid tears,
lipstick in hand,
eyes glazed in eternal pain.
She sits in shelter,
tears in hand,
dripping like lilies falling through shimmering thighs.
She thinks of him as his lips,
red as crimson,
eyes shimmering like the glitter she uses to hide her pain.
Their love broken by acid tongues and toxic systems,
they remain fragile.
Fearing the letters that were long created by no one.
Face painted for lights to see,
his tears have ruined this canvas.
He hides the rain deep within,
in order to maintain the desert his flesh must remain.
Bathed in strong fumes,
clothes engulfed in flames,
she feels sorrow.
The only light is the multicolored flames slowly dying in their eyes.
She kisses his lips in silence.
Lips of cherry and mango dipped in crimson paint,
oh how sweet.
False labels tattooed upon his face,
while rebellious truth seeps from his wounds.
Her skin rains as his soul dies.
He slips from life all because...
dictation,
creation,
labels,
mentality