dragging  lifeless limbs out into
gnawing-numbing-whipping cold air,
forced to trace worn-in footprints
trod by weighted soles, simply doing as they're told.
blind flight through the same
mile markers and blurred road signs,
of a grey scale town filled with dead ends and cul-de-sacs to spin out in.
meticulous repetitious maneuvering over towers of steam,
skin shielded from burns by a molten patchwork
of scars festering fearlessness on the surface,
and covering  layers of pages of crossed out phrases
left unmuttered to undisclosed faces.
nostrils filled with pipe dreams
blocking the taste of bitter reality
that's dripping down a swollen throat.
lips hinging on the promise of a cigarette
or a cold brown bottle to sink into,
to deflect the rejection of a soft forbidden kiss
projected by sinister ghosts sworn to inflict
nothing but uncertainty and instincts to flee.
soaking in their shadow is crippling,
but its all chocolate and mashed-potatoes
coated with sugar-laced pleas
when i crawl out from under a tomb of old dreams,
and slither into a porcupine bed
to count old regrets until my mind succumbs to sleep.

deadly desire for
heavy-lidded gazes and lightning hands slick sliding,
grasping and groping, ground-flung from under me
all assuring this hummingbird heart
"you are wonderful, wistful, wanted"

averting anticipation of
deadpan eyes locked on distant nondescript figures,
the end was wrapped in the beginning, fumbled attempt
at a weightless chemical explosion, gravity is a cruel master - whispering
"that which goes up, must come down"

up and down and up and down and up and down
and back and forth and inside out -
round about box stepping, and white lie butterfly kissing.
seal my coffin with the mangled guts of that mixed tape,
so if i try to come back for you i'll hear
"mute your foolish heart, he was born to flee"

There is beauty in our souls and love in his eyes
But there is no beauty in the destruction that grows like a **** from my finger tips, my eyes are dull and empty and you are gonna taste blood
The beaten love me made feels like shards of glass in my toes, there is no beauty in our bed
There is no beauty in the deafening silence, no care in your finger tips, you pound out words made to cut
My vision goes dark and I let fear swallow me, I will go out the same way I came in: screaming in joy and fear and confusion with archaic song in my heart.  There is no beauty in a young casket

You were standing
there by the fire, illuminated
by it's tendrils of warmth.

Standing isn't a good word, though.

I saw you radiating upright
with your spine stretched up
to the heavens like a sacred snake
dancing to the universe's melody.

Your every movement flowed
like a river of love and glowed
with the embers of a thousand thoughts.

Our eyes met and
I knew I had known you
for several lifetimes.

The pupils of our souls
dilated to the horizons of
our irises as they tried to
jump into each other's
embrace.

It's silly, but as we sat, I noticed our super-soft pants,
(because why go with anything that doesn't feel amazing)
were printed with psychedelic patterns,
and they seemed to breathe in sync
with one another.

But that was just us.

I shattered your mirror
and now all that I see
are the broken shards
of my shocked reflection
strewn across the ground.

They're dripping with
sickeningly straight lines
of red tears from closed eyes
that were carved into the steps
of a porcelain temple.

I wrinkle up my nose at the smell
of self pity and hatred and sing
a solemn dance for what's dead.

I crouch to my fours, sharp shards
of refractive souls ripping into my
apologetic palms, pressing.

Sliding off the surfaces,
crimson pools of times past
spread to the soles of my bare feet,
filling in the gaps between my fingers,
ready to devour me like you did so well.

I can taste your blood in my mouth
and it is reminiscent of my own.

here's how it happens
the morning after
you reach into the drawer
where the your t-shirts live
to find it austere
you'll shrug because
you're still drunk
& you can't remember
when last it was
that you had something wet
or how long it's been
since you made the floorboards blush
or why the carpet is upset
who wouldn't be
the contents to the upended ashtray
strewn around the apartment
resemble the aftermath
of the smallest war
to ever take place in norfolk
some midnight thief
must've made off with the lighter
because it isn't in
any of your favorite spots
maybe you chucked it
along with a hundred other things
that make noise when they land
in the neighbors yard
you won't remember putting
the refrigerator's belongings
in the bathtub
or scrawling a buzzard
on the bedroom door
but then again who would
you'll pretend it's spring again
before putting on your winter coat
to go out front with a cigarette
in your mouth
you'll hope for a passing stranger
to *** a light from
or drag yourself to the corner
with couch cushion change
to buy a new lighter
and on your way
you won't bother looking back
this is just another day
on eggshells for no reason
another november
choking on birthday candles
on your way home
you step over beer cans
the kind you fell in love with
and wonder who
had the last laugh last night
or if anyone said a word at all
it might've been another
moment of clarity
it might have been some idiot savant
any adjective that feels like home
anything that keeps you thirsty

With the first Roar
Galaxies fell out of your
Void. Here we scream
to throw out all that
checks and chokes us.
In a Roar you created
the limitless Creation of yours
In a Roar, we wish to destroy
the listless creation of ours.

Hoping our roars will resonate
with your mighty Roar of Creation.

Tear we did the chords of Sound
Open we did the doors of the Profound.

May every wimpy sound we
make be in tune with your Roar.