my foul gaze degrades you
this stare
these blue eyes
they burn you
you quiver
dead

so i prowl
fixating on you
carnivorous
salivating
looking desperate
i die, too

music marinated
wyclef
lauryn hill
corinne bailey rae
bob dylan
wind

my mangy hair whips you like the cat toys of feathers on a string
the static electricity of our touch
flips on addiction
i am an adrenaline ******
a no good drug addict
with a burnt tongue
because nobody knows me
only what they presume
i am the facade
innocent
christian
quiet
weak

i am foul
there is no hell for me to burn in
that is fictitious
i am a writer?
so the bible is a book and no more

the vagabond
freighthoppper
reaper
who loves flowers and books
i am trapped by a tree on which I have climbed too high
i must fall
i can die

if i am dead
if i am dead
if i am dead
then i have courage
nothing left to lose
i slit my throat
to honor
Pazuzu

i was born during a tornado
quite literally
my energy in this world exploded
so i pray
when i pray
not to god
but to mother nature
and to the tornadoes of this world
my friend is the wind