The world today... ****, what can I say... for the most part it's just one big dung pool filled with the **** and bile of humanity.  Things have gone from bad to ******* right out absurdly ******* horible.  At least here in the U.S. it has, and almost everyone just walks around like nothing is wrong.  We've turned off the fire under the Melting *** (and lets be honest, it was barely a matchbook under there in the first place... burning a single match at a time) and freed the hideous multi-headed snake of racism and bigotry.  It's embarrassing and disgusting to hear politicians spewing hate filled reterhic and then pretending that their **** filled speeches are inspired by the voice and righteousness of god.  These ******* wearing ******* are ******* on the devils **** while mumbling out their pathatic lies, claimng to have scientific fact on their side of reason.  They would rather protect the unborn spawn of ****** than the lives and hearts and minds of the women *****.  Build more prisons and invent more crimes than feed those who need food, educate our children to be better and do better, poison water for outdated resources we truthfully no longer need... and the list is nearly endless.  There are more criminals hiding in plain sight in goverment chairs than there are in our slums and dark alleys.  
In part, I envy those  that we're able to afford the luxury of suicide... Hunter, Cobain, Williams and all the other genius minds and beautiful hearts to kind and caring and passionate to take another day of watching this world sink any deeper into its own excrement.  Tired of trying to save us from own stupidity, their voices hoarse and hearts bruised, caving into the comfort of leaving this mortal coil, not able to bear watch it collapse and bury itself.  So they jumped the line, rushed to the front and flew over the edge... laughing I'm sure.
The world today... It breaks my ******* heart... Humanity as a whole?... **** IT! Long have we been capable to do better, to clean ourselves of hate,  to raise up and join hands and hearts and souls and love one another.  Instead we turn our heads, plug our ears, and hush our voices.  Letting greed and corruption **** on our dinner plates and then gobble it all down like we are nothing more than starving orphaned children.  
Is that all we are?  Blind, deaf, mute and starving children?  Willing to swallow anything placed in front of us?  Changing history books to their liking?  Placing Moses next to Jefferson,  erasing the actions and voices of King and Parks and Mandela... I wish I were lying, but in hopes of a more obedient society these same ****-wits want to stop teaching of civil disobedience.  They want our children to do nothing more than sacrifice themselves to the endless crime of war and to the gears and teeth of the machine.  Feeding and defending the crimes of the dollar while  grinding pennies into dust to make the ink they sign our paychecks with...
I don't know what else to say...  to those with the heart and the voice and the hope... Keep at it.... write, sing, scream, dance...
Love your friends, family... Raise your children to be better than we were, than we are... let them become the ones to bring about a world were compassion, empathy, and love define the success and wealth of a good life lived.

It's loud.

Violet, Blue, and Green lights
scatter across the floor,
across a canvas of house music,
echoing back into itself.

She crawls towards me,
wearing only poorly inked tattoos
and the lights that kiss us all.

I touch myself,
wishing it was her.

- I leave the room,
the music fading away,
like retreating from
sound-carrying-birds -

The smoke that comes from the cigarette
forms a skeletal web, reaching for the moon.
With rain slapping the dark brick walls,
hugging and creating an alley reminiscent
of a salivating, crooked-cement mouth,
I stand drenched in silver forgotten.

I drop the cigarette in a petrol-colored puddle,
watching it sink, become hard to distinguish,
and fade away.

- I reenter the room,
the song has changed
and is more mechanical. -

It's loud.

The lights are now
Bubblegum, Aqua, and Tangerine.
She lays supine, watching dollars
drift down, slowly, almost frozen.
Then the splitting of the air.

Fat-Man's body does a half-spin
as I lodge a bullet into his obese shoulder.
The music still blares, almost meaning more, now.
Regrouping himself, Fat-Man is weaponized,
drawing a greasy, inky blaster, desperate to spit.

A supernova erupts and quickly disappears--
like the aftermath of blowing birthday candles--
as his black speckled, crewcut scalp peels back,
letting fragments of chalky skull and pink penne
***** out of his square, boxed head.

Blood appears black under these lights
and instantly whips across
Samantha's still supine body.
The remaining people in the room
scatter like light exposed roaches.

Haunted, she is a toppled statue.
My steps move with the rhythm of the song.

Fat-Man's leather jacket
holds more meat than some mouths.
I plant my hand inside all pockets, find $6,480
in greasy, bloodier-than-usual presidents,
and move towards her, with the music.

Crouching beside her, I wipe the blood.
I clean her pale, tense torso
and help her up.

On two painted feet, she looks detached.
Silence exists, now, despite the music,
while she studies me with the same brown eyes.
Her lips quiver, she remembers
and wraps me with much thinner arms
that used to exist in nothing but memory.

I know the horror
how you can't undress
without feeling like
a ******* mess.

There's got to be something
more than this,
just write until
your thoughts aren't as heavy.

Everyone glances
but nobody reads:
Pour your emotions
into a glass that
nobody drinks.

There's got to be something
more than
vulnerable words in vain:
a medicine
that increases the pain.

I know the horror
how you can't reveal
the fullest extent
of how you feel.

There has to be something
more than a glance,
to help you feel heard;
to validate your world.

Just learn to write
and let it all go,
even if nobody notices
or nobody knows.

Because there is something
more than this.

I think I loved you most the winter your heating was broken
And we’d stay inside all morning
Pretending to complain that we couldn’t get out of bed
Our clothes becoming little islands on the floor,
Ones that we could not quite find the courage to visit

Your hand stayed glued to my hip,
Your breath warming my shoulder
Like a long drag of whiskey
That kind that had a home so far away,
In a glass bottle on top of your refrigerator.
The one that would not be opened
Until that fateful day in February,
When everything went wrong

And on that unbearable night
When you joked that you’d freeze to death if I left you
There was a long silence
Like it might be true.

Now it’s warm enough
That I show too much skin when sitting in bars
And you avoid me like the plague,
Whispering in any girl’s ear that’s near to you
Every time you see me watching out of the corner of your eye

We should have stayed inside when the ice began to melt
Because I think
When those doors opened and we finally ventured outside
The world had changed,
And so had you and I.

Shriveled & shrunken.
Intoxicated & drunken.
Hung over & agitated.
Mild to moderate brain activity.
Common sense & basic reason lacks mental ability.
Bad with money & squanders financial stability.

Passing a psychological mental health evaluation not quite.
Kept in a straight jacket & sedated in isolation they do spit & bite.
They go through everyone's trash day & night.
They panhandle at the street lights.
They have tempers & pick fights.
Nothing they do is legal or right.

Slobs with no jobs.
They lack work ethics.
The sight & stench of them is sick.
They're sad story is lies & tricks.
Not a truth that sticks.

They cuss & their pocked face oozes ****.
Their frontal lobe is filled with dust.
About telling your teacher the truth they get homicidal & make a fuss.
They drive a ******* car consisting of smog & rust.
Getting arrested for 365 × 3 + 2 counts of child **** is never a bust.

Keep your children away from drunks.
Some drunks get violent, beat you & lock you on a trunk.
Most pedofiles & rapists are drinkers.
Not religious or moral thinkers.
With shingles, hpv virus, ****** & boyles.
Zero morals as hideous as an ugly *** gargoyle.

Enjoy arguing,  screams & shouts.
Daily drunk driving & behind the wheel blackouts.

Benign, benevolent ballerina bubbly bathing by beautiful blossoming balsams.

A gander I took and I was a statue, still, allured, and enchanted. my lips basted by beauty, before her I was an apparition, lost in forests of adulation.

A vanishing spirit soon to be a vestige of a vestige. I shall wage wars, arm myself and battle my way to her hands that can melt the glaciers residing in my heart.