I'm an apocalyptic mess.
Feathers have weakened,
my spine.

Fathers defeating your
Slate of counter-morals.
And grandsons fighting,
In your perfect dark ambience.

You slide along
Their dim sunshine.
Stars in long strands of hair.
Air –

Air, within a bolt of
Thickened smoke.

I'm a pivotal truth.
A potential socialite.
I'm the average placid child.
A protruding noise.
A prolific stride.
I'm the plastic hero,
In this poisonous state of mind.

I'm fickle.
Dainty.
Drained in his fortune
Of sins.

Her life,
Her subway train,
Filled with brains,
So politically innate.
An infrasonic plea.

You dive an impossible,
Trance of trenchant treasures,
And happy measures.

We will sit our lucky posture,
You & I.
My sixty-second genius
Flee the inner torture.


Let us finish in the pop culture.

Walk with me,

I ask of you

footsteps in an aggregate illumination.

My eyelids are heavy with clues.

I'm your kind of lost detective...

looking for a way out,

of this loop, tearing me apart.

Dance with me,

make me watch

as you remove bullets of flesh

with your teeth, bare

barren

isolated

insulated heat.

A trenchcoat and glasses so thick,

I cannot even begin to see.

We're huddled around a circle

but this fire is too small for

our collective body mass.

I'm folding myself into,

two, three

or five hundred layers of

absolutely pure lies.

Whatever (it is), that you like.

Walk with me

let me feel,

watch me breed

the particular warmth of

sins - we were told to trash

by a bunch of lunatic saints.

These worlds go 'round,

but we're tired o moving.

Out of control, out of breaths.

Standing tall, still.

Waiting to crumble

underneath one massive fall.

I smoke, a secret
I breathe, a secret
I exhale my worries
While you watch my memories burn.
The world around me smell of heavy charcoal.
And my chest is locked -
in a series of waves
Carrying my thoughts in
a sonic beat.

I love, a secret.
My life, an echo of a stranger's
wail.
I sit down, a perfect circle
She whispers these precious things
and I'm hyponotized
in my numb state of mind.

I drink, a secret.
five glasses and a bucket of ice.
I pray, a secret.
A kaleidoscope of change.
My heart beats, a secret
I listen in, and it tells me
nothing -
I want to hear.

I dream, a secret
of a land to call home -
or just a story
to call my own.