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 Mar 2012 Red Starr
Odi
If it makes you sick then dont drink it
Not if it makes you sick
and you seem to only write sad stories
if it makes you sad dont think it
no dont you think

But it feels so very good
When it warms its way down your throat
It almost seems to melt
All the ice inside your soul
And it feels like such a huge release
When that knife hits your skin
You almost cant see passed the tears
Cant see passed the sin

But its okay
Because it feels so very good when you dont feel a thing
And the alcohol is just numbing that sting
And it feels so very good when you dont know what to do
When you put a song on
But forget the tune

Oh, if it makes you bleed dont do it
Please dont you dare
If it makes you scream dont sing it
Dont you ******* care?
Do you really think those scars will heal?
On that faint delicate skin?
Is this how you tell your real?
Yeah, the blood doesnt match the grin

No those scars dont match your alcoholic grin.
On the seventh day I met the devil
All alone on your bedside table
Without his flames and yellow tape
I hardly recognized him

Dressed in his casual whites
He just looked lonely
So I simply had to touch it.
And I said, "You sure make a big deal out of being bad"

He had a gun in his right hand
It was laughing
When I asked what was so funny
He told me it wouldn't hurt

Curiosity killed the cat,
and perhaps shot a beautiful water-colored hole through my brain.

He said, "Dip your toes in. Test the waters
See if they're as hot as they say"
So I jumped on in, headfirst
To discover the waters were ice cold.
Because it's a strange feeling waking up to a stranger every-time
a xenophobic aroma
unfamiliar nakedness
complicated traces of an unknown brand of hair shampoo
lying on the pillow.

Either pretending to be asleep
when she dresses up to go
or making a fake offer to make warm, lemon tea
only to have one last dated access to an otherwise sacred body.

Then the dull thud
the absence of the unknown
creating nauseating feelings of melancholia
that you will be forever alone
and will have to live for Friday nights
3 digit figures of conquests notwithstanding.

Often times, lying all day naked
staring outside for the point, reason of it all.
By the evening, paranoia is almost gone
creative surges phoenixizing the Henry Miller in me
For the Anais Nin's and Tania's of the night
once again.

© Nothing Personal. March 03 2012.
odorless bathing salts
undissolved
in calm
water
with ashy skin

two cheeks
filled
with silver milk
swollen
with odorless
feeble
attempts
to at least
be
forgettable
nausea ,

counting
the beads on a chain
attached to a rubber plug
wearing concrete shoes
face-down
in placid
murk
Passes the Time,

even at a fraction of the speed limit
  
ulcerous enamel
leeching rust
into a pointless bog
of manganese
and zinc

candle
burning
bees wax
on the
sink

where
she left her
brush

she left hair
instructions
on how to recover
from losing your
head

a box
of wooden matches
can't seem to
get  on
with a crumpled ***
of spent tissue...

a waste basket
that needs therapy
with yellow lungs,
eating a can
of pork & beans
thinking wrinkled hands
are like
house cats

lounging
over the lip
of a submarine
with clawed feet
brass proud

clashing
with empty
beers cans on the floor
sleeping off
the misadventures
of a reckless
binge.

my wallet
splayed prone, under
a slow leak.
admiring the linoleum

seen
better days
in a magazine

a
picture
of a well appointed
villa

it was furnished
with opulent
symbols

they were
empty

on page twelve.

i thought
they
had

a
point
.
i knew
i would cancel
my subscription
even if it
thrilled
me.
 Feb 2012 Red Starr
JK Cabresos
And then I found my way back to the corners,
draining salty tears running on my face;
believing for someone's words to whisper,
then you came in the midst of my darkness.

Sudden shivers of my body may never calmed,
midnight sorrows, turned to calling her;
but I was strong enough to bury the pains I had,
for you told me to stand still when I was cursed.

And now loving you is still shrouded in mystery,
but these artifacts will remain for thousand years;
I was perfected by someone's imperfections, indeed,
and then I found my way back to the corners.
© 2012
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