Once every year,
We cry, "Lest we forget"
But more often than not
I believe it to be "Lest we remember"
Because intentions can only cry so loudly
Like bluebirds can only fly so high
And like thankfulness becomes forgetfulness
Like a paper flutters in the wind and disappears

We cry, "Lest we forget"
But what we seem to forget is to remember
We must chose to hold on and hold our breath
A shock to our system to prevent choice by inaction
A choice to forget

Once every year,
We cry, "Lest we forget"
But more often than not
I believe it to be "Lest we remember"
Bluebirds can only fly so high,
But they will soar with nostalgic wing beats
So long as they remember the way home

I don't have a tragedy
merely a mind that's gone to hell
far before its time

And then I think,
"maybe that's why Bukowski drank"
because he had a quick tongue
but all poets need a story

I'm sorry for my poetry
I'm sorry it isn't about coffee stains
On lace tablecloths

I'm sorry I don't have little anecdotes
About our shy and awkward love
Or his fearless mouth

I'm sorry the lipstick is always faded
The metaphors are sloppy, stumbling drunks
And the skies are never blue enough
I'm sorry about my poetry
I'm sorry for my poetry

I'm so, so sorry
Please just let me cry it out
I swear I'll clean it up

I made a friend today
He isn't real, you see
But he's a very good friend
The best friend you could need

My new friend is quite sweet
You see, we went for a walk
And we had a fine afternoon
He was easy to talk to

Though I feel I must admit
And I'm really quite embarrassed
That on our first day of meeting
I wept to my friend, on the path in the forest

I bore my soul to him, my new daydream friend,
(Now the salts of my tears are on his make-believe sleeves)
And I asked him, if it wasn't too much trouble,
"Keep my soul? Would you, please?"

He has it now,
Safe in his invisible hand
He doesn't seem to mind
He's a very good friend

I'm sorry
and simple
and stupid

These philosophies and novels and metaphysical equations dance over me and I reach up to grab them, and they smile and let me hold them for a while
Until their heat becomes too hot and I must let them go
Until next time

And personally, I have a lack of fantastical words and beautifully stringed stanzas
to express these infinitely genius ideas and expressions and equations
that I like to watch dance, starry and complex in the simplest of ways

Personally, I am simple and stupid
And I will write entire trash heaps and garbage dumps
In the passing time
Until my burns have healed and I can once again play
With the worthwhile legions of the dead, still greater than I

Did you know that these sun rays on your skin are thirty-thousand years old?
Nor did I

I want you to hate me

I want you to abhor me, detest me, loathe me
I want you to reel at the thought of me
I want you to think of me   the way I think of myself when I can't bring myself to love you anymore

***** and fallen, see me graceless

Baby, you don't need a stethoscope to see that I'm heartless
All you need are those baby blue eyes
They'll tell you the secret
I don't want you anymore
I can't love you anymore
I can't even meet those baby blue eyes to mine

I'll admit, you're my weakness
Oh, but not in the way that you want to be
I don't yearn for you the way you want me to
The same reason I try to leave is the reason I stay
You offer me no sustenance, no mental nutrition

So, when I'm feeling the world crashing down around me
And when I'm hearing a million voices telling me "no"
I call you back from the darkness and you say "yes"
You're a walk in the park, you don't further my questions
You don't leave me to play tennis with my own demons

But when they subside, and the light comes back to me
I realize I don't want you there, you offer no challenges
And I push you into the dark until I need you again
And you will wait and smoke another cigarette
Until I call you again, and you will say "yes"

You will always say "yes"
Just once, won't you fight me?

Rip me up
Break me down

Slit my skin open
Punch my eyes closed

Spit in my face
Bite at my heels

Leave my soul
It lies dead on the floor

I have the world
I have touched God
felt his breath on the back of my neck while I dove in and out of the clearest night skies known to any man, living or dead
I have drank euphoria down with certain privilege

and here I stand in the middle of this hot room,
sweat marks lining a ***** and greyed night shirt
legs wrapped in clinging and cheap black fabric
covered in dog hairs, cat fur and spilt milk
I can smell it souring with my negligence

I stand here sweating, shaking
I repeat
over and over and over
"I need a doctor"
"I need a doctor"
"I need a doctor"
"I need a doctor"
"I need a doctor"

I cannot stop

and my chest will not do me the the honour
to heave with tears and gasps
draining itself of sickness

it is wound like an overcompensating clock
around itself
and collapsing into me
surely
and too quickly

I stand here
I watch my oily, reddening face bring swollen eyes that modest salted water drips from,
slowly
like an unkept tap

I need a doctor
my mind has collapsed onto itself
a Victorian home with roaches climbing in and out of softened floorboards
a feast on what remains

I adore the phrase,
       "You're going places"

Yes, I am

Later I'm going to the supermarket
Because I'm running low on avocados

And after that
I might stop by Addy's house
To pick up my blue button down

Maybe I'll go to Turkey, Bali, Istanbul
Hit every gritty, run-down pub I find
You know, I'd love to go to Ireland someday

There are a few places, however,
I would like to avoid, as would anyone
Jail, divorce court, Wal-Mart on Boxing Day
Just to name a few

But I'm going places, yes I am
Who knows where, who knows when
One thing I'm certain is
Some day I'll go some place
And I'm never coming back

So between now and then
I'm going places
Anytime I can

I am not so much scared of the dark
even the light
tis the shadows

Stretched
and contorted
and never true

The sun decides how big
or how small
the shadow will be

The sun decides
what I see

If it pleases you, lock me up
Connect my hands with chains
But you don’t know
Chains are within
Prison is in your mind

I’m more free than you’ll ever be
I’m more alive than you can even dream
I’ll be just fine
Chains and all
Prison is in your mind

Just because I don’t belong,
I do things backwards, upside down,
I smoke, I drink, I do what I please,
And you say I’m to blame,
Because I paint my prison walls

Pardon me in my attempts to shovel through the ******* alone
if only I could read enough books to become the great Athena,
listen to enough Patti Smith so that I could slowly slip into her shadow,
or walk enough paths so as to become so rugged yet feminine as Mother Earth herself

if only I could know all, be all, see all
if only I could accept happiness like I accept sweet kisses,
each always turning sour, anyhow

Ignorant, clueless, helpless, I stand with feet on coals

I want to set off running
preferably before these volcanos erupt
and I'm cloaked in this archaic ash forevermore
Stuck holding fast to a pose so foreign to my own heartbeat

I want to set off running
Arms open to the greenest of leaves
and coolest of falling raindrops
Like a tigress on a mission,
Leaping into certain life

I want to take off running
I want these two feet to carry me somewhere that I don't feel so huge and clumsy, but small, with fingertips cradling grinning vibrations that travel with a touch

I want to take off running
into the pages of science fiction books
onto strange and foreign planets
have their creatures pick apart my stagnant brain
I want to be turned, insides out, by aliens

I plan to run until my legs give out,
until there are no planets, no stars, no more books to host me
until my arms are full with words and wisdoms,
and my lungs collapse, exalted

……..

I always saw a beauty in dried roses
They know they are lifeless, yet they hold
darkening and toughening, beautiful in death
with reds darker still, and romance tangible

I took a sleeping pill with a glass of wine.
I shut my eyes; it's a quarter past nine.
And in these four walls I hear the whispers of a ghostly queen.
She wants me dead, she wants my head, she'd even take my spleen.

Nobody wants me around. I'm a drag, I'm a bore, I'm just empty.
But even then, the Ghostly Queen can't have me.

And the devil's sneaking up on me, as the sun slides away.
I just want to close my eyes, and rest for a little while.
It seems the devil don't care, he can play this game all night.
Even when I do sleep, he runs through my dreams.
And all night, I toss and turn,
Yes, all night, I swear the devil's in my dreams.

Between Lucifer and the Queen, I lay silent; it's 10:15.

"Curiosity didn't **** me"* said the cat,
*"She just introduced me to the wrong crowd"

I see you there,
See-through Girl, barely there

you think you must be yelling

nothing but a whisper

See-through Girl, you live amongst monsters
and the real people question if you or they are even there

See-through Girl,
your world is whispers and monsters
and second bests and blind eyes
last resorts and second rate sins

See-through girl,
see it through the night
and we'll do it all again

Don't underestimate how little i can do
don't underestimate how easy i can break

tough isn't a jean jacket and black boots
lipstick doesn't mean **** yet strong
running away doesn't mean my lungs can take it
never looking back really don't mean a thing

don't overestimate me
i'm a real good liar but i ain't good for much else

When will you learn
to stop giving pieces of your heart away

To girls who want the whole thing

When will you learn
there have been two girls
who should have, could have
would have saved you from yourself

Had you not hated them for seeing through you
you and the *******

When will you learn
that you’re angry because you don’t know what else to be
and you’re alone because you hold the hands of the wrong girls
while you’re thinking of the right ones

Human beings are a peculiar tragedy
We are only truly beautiful for our souls
But we hide them away
For fear that ours is a little too
Something
A little too
Anything

I had a dream
A nightmare
A premonition of another dimension

I was in front of a one-way mirror
With my life's mistakes lined up against the wall
Dressed up like personified Envy or Sloth in a preaching play
And I had to chose which one I thought had been my killer
I had to chose which one I thought had placed me in the morgue

And the warden, the sheriff, the detective
The shadow in my dream said:
     "It doesn't matter much. It all ends the same way."

I had a premonition of another dimension
I had always feared it would end this way

Think of everything you know: you don't
Think of everything we knew: we didn't
Think of everything you think: do you?

The earth used to be flat, we knew it
Cigarettes were the cure, we blew it
Double entendres, we'll lose it
Translation, time, linguistic disintegration

This god, that god, miracles or chemicals?
Brain make-up, societal shake-up
Left wing, right wing, cha-ching, quiet king
Extremists all around, different by nature
A set of monkeys trained to hunt grandeur
The science of the day, the philosophy of the age
Every other thing is the best thing since sliced bread

Think of everything you think: do you?

There is something to be said for the way your smile lights up passageways in my heart that have long been darkened

I remember the smell of your soap and the taste of honeycomb cereal and the feel of your soft hands protecting my small hands on the way across the road to my kindergarten classroom

And here today I sit across from you and I want to thank you for every cut you cleaned, and every tear you wiped, and the way you taught me to smile no matter who kicked me down, but I have to remember that you are now someone else

And to you, I am as good as a stranger
To you, we share no memories
No quiet mornings or warm afternoons

And I sit here today and I'm smiling and you're smiling but all is hollow because you cannot place my face in your photo frames of memory and I cannot help but curse myself for letting you get away from me

And these diseases of the mind are the silent terrorists, waging wars on memories and leaving ticking time bombs with tired families

I don't cry
I don't cry
I don't cry

Every Sunday afternoon you spent carving me into the person I am is gone, and I am coming to realize that without your love, this being you forged is wooden and hollow

You mean more to me than anything in the world
But you don't know who I am
I am gone to you

And every Sunday afternoon, I tell you who I am
And you smile and nod, and you're as kind as can be
But you are convinced, you've never met me



I have to smile
No matter who or what kicks me down

You were a poem from the beginning

Something in your boyish features and shining blonde hair, shabbily cut across those blue eyes
You were a marvel to me simply in the way you walked, floating on knobby knees and slouching socks
In your blackline tattoos, the silver hoop in your left ear, your skin Moroccan gold
And you had that one darkened tooth of a crooked smile lover

In the afternoon, I watched the sun cut through the holes in the space above us
In shy glances, I watched whole worlds of your boyish beauty as you slept in the sun
Occassionally waking for sips of warming beer from green glass bottles
Your warm honey belly balancing a clever man's novel

And later, in the dark, empty palace of a room, between those ancient stained glass windows and those eternal flowing fabrics,
The boy I knew as endless whispered so softly,
"I think I must be boring"
But I could swear you are a poem breathing life
You are sweet cadence come alive

I can still taste chocolate and wine on your lips
And I feel the laughs from deep in my belly as you crossed your legs and told me stories
I still feel the softness of your hair, the sweat from the tip of your nose
I still see you smiling at me from the far end of the pool
That one dark tooth of yours the only imperfection in sight

Baby, aren't I pretty, in that tortured kind of way?
Don't these dark circles under my eyes add something?
A little sense of mystery? A taste of poetic desperation?
Baby, don’t you love to play with this mane of dirt blonde hair?
It’s a marvel of half-wit curls, don’t you think?
And don’t I have the bluest ocean eyes?
Not quite Liz Taylor, more the polluted Toronto lakeshore
But doesn't this wide face have so much character?
Like a 1950's housewife, you sometimes said

Tell me baby, aren’t I pretty, a real sight for sore eyes?
A little bit pretty, a little bit ugly
Don’t I match with my insides?

you knew I loved that song
because it was all about ******* up
******* up repeatedly
which was all either of us ever did
so you played that song
you played it loudly
and you taunted me

but we both ****** up
we both ****** up repeatedly

and you walked around in that black shirt
the one I bought you for your birthday
when things were good
and you still called me "sweetheart"

you wore it because you knew
just how much I loved the way it looked on you

you had more birthdays
and more gifts
and more loves
but you let that black shirt tumble dry
and you wore it all the time

and I wore my hair the way you liked it
and I wore your favourite clothes
and sang your favourite songs

and you hated me like I hated you
while that song played in the background

and you wore that black shirt, fading grey
and I grew my hair long
and you hated me like I hated you
while we picked at our scabs like school kids

I’m a perfect portrait of teenage angst
Black pants and an army jacket
Tired eyes atop a solemn expression
High school backdrop
Roaming the halls alone

I’m a perfect portrait of beat down,
Broken up and disappointed

I’m the mess after The Scream
What’s left after The Kiss
I am dreaming of A Sunday Afternoon
On the Island of La Grande Jette
While tracing my mind over the swirls
Of the Starry Night constellations
Over what it could mean

Inside
I am Salvador Dali

Outside
I’m a perfect portrait of all the things I never wanted to be

I am Mona Lisa’s misery

*******
I feel better than I have in so long
Just while everything's going wrong

But how can anything go right if it never went wrong?
Every right turn that should've been a left makes me smile
Every brush stroke that should've been a charcoal smudge,
It's a dream come true

Holy ****
My grandma just turned ninety years old
I swear she's the most fantastic person I've ever met
She's been pushed down so many times and she still smiles

Because how can anything go right if it never went wrong?

****, I'll dance in the rain if I want to
That might be why I'm always sick

And I'll be a ******* ****-up if that's what you wanna call it
Broke and stupid, sick and impulsive, but *******, I'M SMILING

Everything's gone so wrong
But when I stopped singing to the rain, commanding she go away,
I ******* danced and loved and lived (whatever that is)
And even my demons danced and even my ghosts chuckled
And *******, so many wrong turns led me to the hurricane coast
And it's the best place, and the blessed place, where I can't help but smile

Because how can anything go right if it never went wrong?

The problem with creation is it comes from destruction
One life created is only another destroyed

See, a delicately engraved chest is just a gutted tree
Like diamond rings are just contemporary slave drivers

Long and lovely road trips are but poisonous gases
Like gourmet dinners are pesticides and animal bones

These books and beautiful words are murdered worlds
(And a poem is just a dead part of the soul)

But I guess that's just for cynics
I guess the darkness doesn't haunt us all
(And it isn't always the Circle of Death that revolves)

O, you blessed creatures, do you really mean to say
You aren't at all plagued by the morbid fall?

When the night breaks you down,
and the demons screech and scratch,
hungry for the darkest parts of you

When you can't help but imagine
a world without your broken mind,
blistered soul and shaking hands

Just remember,
a million miles away,
so am I

Imagining an infinite blackness,
while shaking in the deepest darkness

Together and alone,
we will lay awake tonight
and sleep the day away

I let you slip through my fingers
As every day yours began to slim
And the puzzle pieces that fit perfectly began to float away like melting ice caps under the Alaskan sun
And I wanted to hold you a little longer
But all the while I felt you absorbing into death like spilt coffee in a washcloth
And bit by bit I watched the sand of your hourglass slide to its end

You always told me you couldn't be scared because heaven was real and you kicked the devil sideways years ago
And for your sake I hope he stayed down, and for your sake I hope you were right
But these days it feels like he's standing up, holding his side, coming back for revenge
He's got his pliers out and he's coming for my soul and I'm kicking I'm fighting I'm screaming
But I'll never be as strong as you and I never learned how to keep afloat of my own sin
So now I'm sinking

And I sit and listen to them speak in artificial intelligence
And wonder how they've kept the devil down
Do they stand on his back and scream "You can't have me now"
Or has he just lost interest like I have?

When all sounds are lost and I've made enough tissue paper thin excuses to stay alone for a few hours, I picture your smile, cloaking me like warm candlelight
But you know the wind came years ago and now it's a flickering warmth
I remember your fingers, skeletal now
And I hope you were right
I hope our slender fingers meet one day
But for now I will feign strength and grind my fears to dust with a mortar and pestle
And for the time being
I cannot look at my own hands
For fear that they be bloodstained

Firstly, I'd just like to say: *******.


*******.
*******.
*******.
*******, *******.

You are the only ******* one who knows a ******* thing about me
You are the only one who I ever believed really loved me

*******.

Did you really think that after all these years and all this-- that because I wasn't going to be yours-- that you could leave me?
Don't you understand,
Just because I'm better alone and ****** up
Doesn't mean you can leave me?

And everyone here thinks I'm a total ****-up
And the ones who stick around just think that I'm funny or they like the idea of me & bedsheets and I hate them for it
      Backwards and ****** up and completely too emotional,        do you miss me?

      ******* and I miss you.


I wanted to tell you,       my favourite person in the world can't remember my name anymore
She's spent the last month that you've spent forgetting everything about me, trying to remember anything about me

I wanted to tell you,            because you once would mend these things
Now it seems you're the one hammering the nails in


I'm exhausted now but under my breath I'm still muttering,      slowly, "*******."

You're the only friend I ever had and now you take my soft-spoken,     heart-broken,     tear-soaked apologies and you say,      "*******."?


Here and now I'm utterly alone in the dark      thinking of all the times you saved me from it
And how you just left     because I couldn't love you     like we both wanted me to

Of all people and things,      I never thought you'd be my executioner

Sour thoughts, broken glass and
A thin veil of cigarette smoke

"I have no regrets" she whispered
"Pardon?" his eyes met hers
"Nothing" she said, intertwining her fingers

Four years ago I started dying,
not of terminal illness nor poetic expression
about how we were all born to slowly die,
I died the first day of his last six months
and I died every single day for the next ten

This is four years later and Dad comes home
at 11:50 saying “She’s going to go tonight”
and I don’t cry
but I calmly allow myself to die a little more
and I glance at his own oxygen tank

At 11:55 we pull up to the home
and it is exactly what I expected:
oxygen masks and morphine
clinical and impersonal
next to her pale, familiar frame

And I kiss her softly and tell her I’m here
and she tries to open her eyes

This makes everyone exceedingly happy

The nurse shuffles in with explanations, condolences,
Make her comfortable's, There's nothing you can do's,
expecting heartbroken surprise
but the words are less than foreign
to this family they are home enough
familiar as an old dog’s bark
       all we can do is to hold her hand



Eventually we say our goodbyes
and I walk away waiting to feel eighteen
waiting to feel alive

I write ****** poems
& I think ****** things
I float around half-dead
& sometimes I wish I was
(full-throttle ashes, that is)
But if you're looking
For someone so sad
So so sad, sad as you
I think it's me
If you're looking
For a reason
To stay a while longer
Let it be me

This is it,
Don't you see?
Someone who thinks
You're so so sad
Sad as me
But I want to hold your heart
Feel it beat and race
I want to let you know
Dearest stranger, dearest strangers,
Hoping to see you smile
Is my reason
To stay a while longer

I'm standing in the rain
I'm standing barefoot in just a shower towel
My feet are in 5 inches of freezing cold water and I'm thinking of you
Thinking of how the water meets your box in the ground while it falls from the sky
So cold, so cold

And now I'm standing in the rain
Hitting me, hurting me, but it's okay
Maybe it'll wash me clean and scrub the dirt away
Because I'm filthy
I'm a *****, broken mess
And I'm drowning in this moment but I like it this way

I haven't been able to put it into words
Since you left, while I was holding your hand
The last skin you ever felt
I can't look down at my hands
I can't look down at my hands
I can't stop shaking.
And I'm not sure if it's the cold or the memory

And now I'm just waiting to be washed away
Hoping tidal waves will form and carry me to where we buried you
And there I'd like to stay     if you'll have me


There are worms at my feet and I can't bear the truth of it
I'm hoping, praying to no one to be washed away
And I can't look down at my hands

I guess I was mistaken, I'll admit, I was shaken
Quipping, quoting, "Is this all you know of me?
Living in a see-through box, you call these building blocks?"

Laughing stock, we're all the same.

"That's it? All we've learned? Trying to live the life?
We say we've learned all we can. How ignorant of us.
Stuck in a lame routine, living day to day, all boxed up,
We're playing a losing game."


I called for a help card,
To take me away

You stood,
Waiting for me to grab your hand.


Seems to me I was daft, I was drawn,
I called you out, called you wrong.
Never once thought of what you used to be,
My everything, my solid base

In searching, I got lost.
A ruckus, a mess.


Smash the clear box that held me apart
Was it all in my mind? A crumpled design?
I thought, "maybe just a saran-wrap reality"
Yet here I am
Treading on broken glass
All I've got is you

In this ruckus of a life

We are a play
A constant spectacle

We are wrinkled foreheads
Ink coated arms
And frilly dresses

Cottons and silks define us
Bad haircuts destroy us

We are ears stretched wide with plastic tubes
Hearing sounds of scoffs and silent condemnation

We are male parts and female prints
Drawing judging eyes and ignorant fists

We are the wrong brand of jeans just once
Seeding carved patterns tucked away
Under the right brand of sweater sleeves

We are snap judgements
We are controlled independence
We are the humans trapped beneath

Here lies the bottom line of your existence:

Chemicals
Organs
Nerve endings
Fluids

Dust dust dust
An eventual nothing

Where do you think we're gonna be,
twenty years from now?
when I'm a deadbeat daughter
and you're a drunken *******

and if I'm being honest, I don't really care
I just wanna be where your light is,
I wanna be where you face the dark,
I don't care, I could break down anywhere

'Cause I don't think we broke each other,
I think we broke ourselves

and I'll be Zelda, you be Scott
and I'll paint and dance ballet
and I'll watch you destroy yourself
while I'm wasting away

as long as I'm,
your deadbeat girl

To the people in my life:

I’m sorry for the inconvenience of getting to know me,
I’m sorry that I’m not exactly who you thought I’d be

I’m sorry if we get in fights,
Or I say something you don’t like

I’m sorry I can’t stand anything,
And I’d always rather just stay in

I’m sorry,
I didn’t mean for you to get to know me

And I’m sorry I’m such a miserable ****.

Sing me pretty words
I know you can

Sing me pretty words that close my eyes
Sing me pretty words that shut me up
Pretty words which stitch my cuts

I want to hear your easy voice
I want to feel the world fall asleep

Sing me pretty words

Sing of Saturdays slept away
Sing of patient ocean tides
Sing of... baby blue and lavender

Please, please, please

Sing about the little things
Sing me simple songs

Please, please, please

Just sing me pretty words

i like to dance inside your arms
like a mosquito trapped inside a room

i don't know who's got the stronger grip between us two
but i think you're a little less stuck on me than i am stuck on you

I've found,
poetry is more beautiful
when your soul is shaken up
when you're on the verge of tears
when you're reading it slowly
with an aching heart,
holding out your hand
saying,

        "Let's be broken together"

She is looking to her lap
While he gets up with hesitation
She is pulling at a run in her floral skirt
His eyes wander to those daisies for a moment
Then he turns,     & takes each step   further        further        FURTHER

"Wait! Will you please just wait?" she screams

"What do you want from me?" his voice screams... shakes.    with confusion,    betrayal,       exhaustion?    

"Please, just wait" she pleads through tears that feel so foreign on her skin

His eyes meet hers, trace her face, continue down to that run in that floral skirt
He has a nature to love, but a right to hate, to hurt, to avenge

"No." he says

And he is gone
And there is no door that leads back into that room, it seems
That room was a moment, and it passed
And it is gone
And he is gone
AND IT DIDN'T WORK
It didn't work
That floral skirt

Some nights I drown in poetry
Its watery depths fill me whole
It sloshes around inside of me
Cleaning me up for tomorrow

Some nights I'm not ready for poetry
I am a helpless child sobbing alone
Gasping for the air I crave to make me whole
Drawing breaths to fill me for a cleaner dawn

For My Sister*

Doll face, what does it matter
if you're ugly as hell?
If you’re short or you’re fat
Or your face is full of pimples?
Why the hell should it matter?

Sweetness, who gives a ****
If you tie your laces upside down?
And your left hand smudges the words on the page?
If you break down crying at the sight of rotting road ****?
Who is anyone to laugh at you?
Who is anyone to tell you who you are?

I am sick and tired of seeing your red-rimmed eyes
I am sick and tired of seeing what they do to you
I hate to see you hurt and I crave the very best for you
I want you to be happy in all the ways you can
Let go of it all and crawl on the ceiling, weightless

Darling, people are messed right up
And we've all got cuts and stitches and oozing wounds
But don't let the bruised and beaten up punks
the privileged warriors, the wait-listed mental patients,
the scummy lost wanderers, the vengeful aching souls,
Tell you it matters if you're ugly as hell
Please please please
Understand you are so much more than a shell
than an exoskeleton of a soul
You are a glorious, bruised and beaten up,
Ugly, pimpled masterpiece,
And it's a shame that they don't see it

The Night hosts her socials for the monsters inside and out
In the moonlight we come dancing, clinking bottles, wandering about
We are goblins, ghouls, mummies, witches, zombies and misfits alike
Dressed up in our finest tuxedos, pearls, lace, bloodstains and the like

The Daylight wont have us, but the Night plays hostess to our monster bones
She slips into her midnight blue party dress and she puts on the Ramones
And we dance
we dance
we dance

O, we are the dark psychopaths, the feared, the soulless creatures
We companions by the moonlight are shaking, stammering vultures
We are friends in wayward trudges, we are spitting, foaming vermin
We are in love       We are the World's rejected kin

The ghouls and the witches and our old zombie friends,
The World's most dark and repulsive in clear-cut diamonds,
We monsters aren't alone in the night, drunken, broke and hideous,
Charming and disgusting, we are the Night's beloved insidious

In the night, we are happy, giddy, wasted children
We are the Fiend Club, we are the monster brethren
Until we are caught, disfigured, drunk and red-handed        by the Daylight
And we make our way home, to crawl under the floorboards        and sleep until twilight
Until the Night's long fingers slip an invitation under the door
And we will put our party dresses and our tuxedos on once more

*O, the moon is out and the Fiend Club has woken
The Night is young and we are broken

For gory guys and glamour ghouls

The Night hosts her socials for the monsters inside and out
In the moonlight we come dancing, clinking bottles, wandering about
We are goblins, ghouls, mummies, witches, zombies and misfits alike
Dressed up in our finest tuxedos, pearls, lace, bloodstains and the like

The Daylight wont have us, but the Night plays hostess to our monster bones
She slips into her midnight blue party dress and she puts on the Ramones
And we dance
we dance
we dance

O, we are the dark psychopaths, the feared, the soulless creatures
We companions by the moonlight are shaking, stammering vultures
We are friends in wayward trudges, we are spitting, foaming vermin
We are in love       We are the World's rejected kin

The ghouls and the witches and our old zombie friends,
The World's most dark and repulsive in clear-cut diamonds,
We monsters aren't alone in the night, drunken, broke and hideous,
Charming and disgusting, we are the Night's beloved insidious

In the night, we are happy, giddy, wasted children
We are the Fiend Club, we are the monster brethren
Until we are caught, disfigured, drunken, red-handed        by the Daylight
And we make our way home, to crawl under the floorboards        and sleep until twilight
Until the Night's long fingers slip an invitation under the door
And we will put our party dresses and our tuxedos on once more

*O, the moon is out and the Fiend Club has woken
The Night is young and we are broken

Tall, with chestnut hair and a native face
Tiny, with white blonde strands and Polish features

From the same womb,
down different paths

Their voices hoarse with cries of anger,
Yells, screams and miscommunications

"Go home!" she shrieks
"And you wonder why I'd rather be alone!" she yells

Everyone screams,
"Don't you know about compassion?!"

I wonder
do they not think
about these things
these things which
haunt my nights
broil my days

Conformity
Excess
Consumption
Purpose
Death
The whys
and the why nots

I wonder
do they not think
about what else
this world holds

About how what
we knew yesterday
we scoff at today

I wonder
what don't we know

I wonder
what does tomorrow hold

It haunts my nights
It broils my days