Cut, paste, carry.
Receive, bleed, recede.

Are these eyes my own?
When did you get here?

A singsong bird out my window,
Calling me to the cemetery.

I'll meet you there.
We can find it together.

Step up, step down, turn around.
Lie awake, fall asleep, fall awake.

The dimes on my counter are blue
Shades like cotton, streaming hues.

Visions of hell. Visions of heaven.
Visions of all the spaces between.

Where have you gone, my friend?
When will this all end?

**** it. Leave it. Scream it.
Jump. Run. Swerve.

This tree in particular
Seems to understand me.

Ant hills made of dish soap
Ink like blood on paper thin walls.

A friend that bleeds is a friend indeed,
perhaps I've gotten that saying wrong,
but we'll both laugh anyway;
It amuses us, throughout the day.

For they say the dead don't drip red,
the only way out is to cut off their head,
well, that wouldn't be very nice,
now would it?

Smirks and grins, twisted laughter,
surrounds the energy of insanity.
some could call a comfort zone;
We call it home sweetest home.

Sparks of mischief in your eyes,
quite mimic my own;
Intelligent life, recognized,
we know we're not alone.

Laughter, contagious,
jokes, outrageous,
smiles, sweet as can be;
With a little bit of devious flavor,
it all goes along well,
these little things noticed;
By only you and me.

Bruised and bloodied, I kneel on the cold concrete,
rusty reds and deep blues compliment me nicely,
they're like gifts of fine jewelry, showing you love me,
along with these metallic chains that hold me to you,
a thoroughbred in captivity.
Don't you know that I cannot feel the pain,
that all of this is because I love you?
Oh wait; No I don't.
With wild eyes, pupils dilated, the bindings break,
shattering piece by lovely piece;
I rise above, stare you down, whip them onto your back;
Oh how the tables (you're now tied to) have turned,
you should have known dear,
with too much training and molding, one gets smart,
catching on to little games, little weaknesses,
becoming much stronger than ever intended.
Eyes burn red with the chaotic power,
a sadistic laugh echos through your mind,
though, you'll learn to love it, little one,
they always do;
And you're no different.

He was pale. Opaque,
His skin the color
Of a ghost.
For, that's what he was.

I could see right through him
As he moved in front of me.

He was so close,
Right before my eyes.

I wanted to reach out,
Grab him and pull him close.

I wanted to rest my head
Over his exposed chest.

I could see his heart beating
Behind his clear, glass, translucent shell.

For a moment,
He was still alive;
Until I reached
For his hand,

And couldn't feel his wrinkled grasp.