Im coming of age
In the era of the devoid
Hollow greed seeps unearned
from elephanitus of love  

all the dead *** heads
and the glorifed child **** stars
live in tandem with virginity commerce
a descriptive high full of lies

here we are raised to never forget
the look on a beautiful girls face
when the zippers break and all the mallets fall
when mud and blood and ***** mix to a collegiate concoction

Leaving her to bear the scabbing burns
The openings the ambrosia flesh wounds
The giant stamp of pulsing indecency

The markings don’t go so well with her hollow moon smiles
They don’t blend with her regal clavicles
To bend them in with a wrench
Would do no damage to this already feral *****

Don’t try to hide
The billboards may be sagging
But they carry the message loud and effeminate
All the drum ticks and coated arteries will explode
They cant be stopped

Mucho gusto, muy bien
All that we ever where locked into some
Tooth paste stained and tattered bibliomeca
It is true I have become that broken shameful collection
Which we are taught to stain in the wood works of our memory

I turn to page 1168
And I know that the bruises will be permanent
Surrounding the globe and bridging in the gaps
The ones that they left between your calamity eyes

Will they still love me with one foot locked in a bear trap
And a hobo having the last of my eyelashes ?
Or  maybe just the scary albinos at the san Francisco bar scene

Pain in the thighs
from the endless straddles
Pin ****** in the ribs
from a poorly made white willows dress

All are things much desired by a pudgy adolescent female  
A garment of ill conceived freedom
An illusion
Of frolic in utopia

It was just a small gate way to the mud caked feet
And into the auto eclipses
Of stargazing zombies
Those still relied on vintage kaleidoscopes
All Full of cracks

See in her bleeding ignorance
the shores still remained open
Turquoise schooners unleashed

The tree tops were still aching to be claimed
Reincarnated as a paradise for attractive drifters

Not even the all mouth beasts
can contain her patented enthusiasm
The straw huts break for assembly
under a tiny hand

Too bad the cracks have been secured
The air was kept to boil
and stain the linoleum
Echoes of a puritan called to action

The streams soon hardened
to form plastic shelving
And the orange flowers collapse
to form packing materials

Onto the plastic shelving is were we placed the books
The books that know that freedom
is just copy right infringement
And life is a micromanaging instruction
Designed to make workers eat their own demise

Grid-less prosperity
cremated in the corner of a starter home
Only an anthropologic mistake
Meant to ward of a mass pandemic of sudden infant death syndrome

The pudgy filled girl,
The comedic car and the overproduced dress

They will learn the value of a hot meal and a good *******
The dreamers almost stole her away
in their patchwork parachute
But we sent her away to Universidad
And the world is her worthless cluster ****!

power lives in the sticks of the youthful retrogrades
peddling away at toy cars and glass bombs
So much potential weakened by the seduction of mediocrity

called to the middle by pigs in suits of glamor
dancing to hollow songs in a crater of mistaken humanoids
all prying for the final meat Popsicle

and it  belongs to him with all his shady remarks
and sincere disregard for the gravitational potential energy of your existence

He WILL break you
morph your limbs into callous claws to weak to open the locks
which chain you to the village whipping pole

He along with his mutiness will laugh as he warps your brain
into a dough shaped plato carving barely resembling an *****
His thievery is not a simple repercussion of his damaged limping stare

it is clear he does not want to be fixed as suffering is his favorite playmate, he waits in the faces of all those that swing  alone

injecting shots of mind numbing cubicle anti-rage into his neck veins
this is his piece

as you dry heave the blood of your loyalty onto parchment for his inspection you must learn to swim
paddle that canoe out of the iridescent concrete showering of his affection
for this is not your jigsaw

Is not only ordinary in the most vile sense
It also lacks the creative imbalance
That which pulses through the blood of cryptic elders

Although being encaged in a box
has the comfort of rigidity
It destroys the fetus of all that pretends to be beautiful

Contemptuous moments ruined
Because we are weak enough to ask, why?
To pander For a something as feebly human as a definition

Why must everything  be placed
on the hand of the glockenspiel
When the world has clearly indicated
The presence of a divine anomaly

The trees are freezing
into crocked chapels
The blackened oasis
tearing slightly along the buttons

Through this all the celestial ambiance awaits
Its complexities weave
each stroke unparalleled

r
The urge is to destroy
That which makes our eyes sting
And our brains blast through the unseen hallows
Riding the coattails of a blastiod

This gusto is blanketed over in our simple minds
Forged into a hammer and sickle
Of absolute and definite terror

Destroy it all
All of which can chemically mix and produce
A new mystical pattern of deficiencies
Naked spayed on the cutting room floor

We must destroy it
By forcefully coding its gnome
Correcting what appears to be a hint of insurrection  

When we already no the what already know the why
but the current answers will make us their slave
They will bind us in hopeless ecstasy

So we form new words that don’t do it justice
Outlandish plans for this invention
Destroying its capability to be
simple
beautiful and
without purpose

Don’t be enticed by the fluorescent groping
The Outstretched hands from the darkened soot that was once a forest
The tiny lurkers that will naw at your feet,
All the while feeding powder to your flame stained cocktails

Don’t gasp as they sling shot you to the moon
Because those are not craters beneath your feet
they are just sewer holes in your brain
ice cream scoop from the tangled nerves

But my god do I wish to fade into the banana split wonderland
Diving into the sticky custard of mocked purity
I long to watched volcanoes erupt in a fortress of silence.
Oh walk with me why won’t you?

Into the masses of hands and broken toes
We will sway in unison to the outlandish beats of our mothers
The ship is calling and it’s blasting on all power
Forget your wand and come aboard.

To be taken silently with violence
Not to utter a salutation
Just the cracking of a door hinge
And a look that indicates that stopping your desires would be laughable
An absurdity
not to be pondered!

The jolting sound of head cracking against metal
And wrist yearning to be ground to the bone
After hours of  furtive clutching
The kind on nail bending fervor that just takes the taste right from bread

Grabbed into a cranium synthesis
Im am forever enslaved in the darkest corridor of your existence
I doubt I will ever be able to leave this lighting wasteland
The eagerness pounding through the point were skin meets weapon

I am infiltrated like a shanty filled village
A real slum filled valley
Hopeless against tracking systems and torture methods
You plunder my underdeveloped hospitality
Like Jesus to a farm boy

As I scream ******* Mongoloid
I am gasping into your filth
A sacrificial lamb
Bliss by the slaughter wells

Mouthfuls of disgust
As your knees jab deep into skid row
Grinding the forgotten and the deserted
Until they are flattened corpses

****** dry of the water holding them together
You are pleased
The phantom has been fed and to ask for seconds would only tease the lamb
As I lay gushing organs with a smirk

Broken bent and emaciated  
I feel alive and it is wondrous.

Enlightenment is explosion                                                        ­                                                           Its means your mind is virtually certain                                                          ­                                      Either been butchered                                                        ­                                                                 Or wobbling or wondering                                                        ­                                                         Like a curtain thrown from system strongholds                                                      ­                          Threat of retaliation,                                                     ­                                                                 ­     with its more we feel the beauty
Trash bins for leftover, Buddha said the same thing                                                            ­             A Zen master would say sidewalks                                                        ­                                             If you work too hard the latent anarchists or God will attain anything                                                         ­            Not to make everyone the same prostitution                                                     ­                        Capital into an asphalt jungle, the proportions of our own body                                                   Ritual *** on the other hand it may be too idealistic
Blood **** ended no need to talk about         Unorganized and we can see the beauty                                                           ­                             Her face covered with blood you try to do it all at once                                                             ­         Since most of the victims realized that you are one                                                              ­              One whole, many thousands of innocents                                                        ­                          Brainwashed whites with reality                                                          ­                                        Anarchy and savagery grew emptiness                                                        ­                                 Subsequently died in a wise and effective way
If an artist becomes,                                                         ­                                                                 ­  Short intense raids on the system river                                                            ­                               Sources and supply and human life                                                             ­                                     Put some strength into their veins and die                                                              ­                         With fingers encircling and incantations of Satan worship                                                          ­   Her pretty face was smudged little by little                                                           ­                        She moaned of eternal life
The meaning lies in a flash about fifty yards in almost a direct hit                                                      From a secluded densely wooded suffer in your difficulties                                                     ­    Exploded inside your body                                                             ­                                                     The projectiles began calmness                                                         ­                                            Something in itself is enlightenment weapons especially for guerilla distress                                       Your life in your effort thundering in the midst                                                            ­                 We saw beautiful blossoms of some meaning in their ****** toll                                                   Know the answer, but while it lasted

It is deep waves of peril
Living only to be washed over in fear blankets
Frigid white lights oscillate deafening strands on the base of someone’s hammer

The playful message delivered on a chipped platter
You are not wanted

A strange pacing rejection amongst your own kind
Draped in the devils stain till you spin and commiserate the loses

Dreams of an orphan dry like white paint behind rusted nails
Falling down the rabbits trench

That just ends with a head buried under white cotton comforters
Licking the roof of you mouth singing that somewhere you used to be a king
Yes once you mattered

The empty beer cans that you used to defy gravity
They empty shampoo canisters that washed away your wrath and loss
The empty notebooks not filled with the poetry you weren’t inspired enough to write
The pages of books you couldn’t finish but pretend you did
The lost shoes and who you where with you feet deep in grass and not cardboard
The bed you don’t sleep in because you have found a warmth the don’t sterilize
The roommate who things didn’t fill up your cupboards now designated for other objects
The roads you don’t drive because you have nowhere to go

Life is in the muffled noises you hear between rooms
The nights you didn’t take pictures
The ones you don’t remember even though they shaped your exact being
The times you felt boring
Or when you didn’t realize how many substances you were on
Or the papers you could have made genius  
The empty boxes of hairdye that washed out in a week and didn’t cure your suburban binality
The dumb tattoos you want to get but now would be a shameful laser treatment
Your daydreams that never came true
Your daydreams that always came true and somehow didn’t lead up to there power of inception

Life is in other peoples good nights
Other people dark pasts of drug abuse and  civil unrest in the **** of an earthquake
Life is in the drug you where afraid to do
In the lies that you tell to become a different person
Its in the people you treated like **** for your own guilty needs
Its in the people whose gritty *** you walked in on

Life is in your lack of passions or skills or drive or organization
Its in the stupid ironic thift store choices you don’t throw away but never wear for 99 cents
Its in all the time you didn’t sing in a crowd
And you let someone convince you of facts you knew where wrong
It in every liar, and ****** human being you defined inorder to not believe they were ****
Its in every used ****** of the one night stands that made miserable times but good stories
Its in *** length hair
In tongue scars
In the people who know too much about you and you have know idea

Life is in your love of things you hate
In empty coffee cups that once saved you in a moment of weakness
In all the tears you shed drunk
Its in all you temporary obsessions and forgotten hobbies
The greeting cards you didn’t read and the thank you you never gave

Life is in the person you thought you would be right now
The empty packs of stubbed cigarettes
The forgotten names and anonymous snuggles
The empty guns and unfolded knives
The unmailed letters that help you reach redemption by telling them you would never forget

Life is in the times you didn’t run to the wild
The people who weren’t who you thought
The soul mates that became frat brothers
Or those people who drifted because you didn’t no what to say anymore

Life is in our unbrushed teeth
Or the void you cant find
Or the puzzle piece hid under the radiator
Life is in the wine bottles we stack

Life is in what we treat as forgotten streaming unconscious waste
Because we always looked ahead, and to empty more that will never fill

A inkling should never expel it self
Not as a smoking diatribe
Especially not oozing from the cracks
Of a chapped upper lip,

None the less that skull protracting sound will break through
Bursting contemporary bliss from within
It had long spent too much time,
Dying on soggy wood as a mere atrocity

It could not be discarded in the ditch of fools
A call to arms was to be made
Effective immediately

The ****** marry will lay in parcels
Along with the gates to our conscious leanings

You’re destroying the Sistine chapel
And ******’s mansion
In one determined swoop

But good god! a slow crumble just wouldn’t do an archetype justice
These ladies must be put down
With rancorous style

Send in their creator
Who better to stomach the redeemer’s stones?

And death was reigned down
In a total collapse of medieval bile

The creator stands in a wicked corner seat
A hand clasped over the shame of his retribution
He would surely hang him self silly
In the afternoon light

Plastic liquidation
With god as my witness
The only cure with
A grave land as your living space

This forgotten life style
Left you as a ******
Only to your sick Aids ridden fantasy

Ballooned music maiden
May your curls grow to collapse
A broken hilarity
In an overused vessel

Natures dilapidated rhythms
Carves itself into the trunks
Leaving only an omen
To be enchanted by a passer by

This fellow lone traveler
walking into ceilings of emerald delusions
The saintly stones and the creaks of trowlbrooks
He can not help but to gasp even to deafened ears

Lulled into complacency by decades of broken legends  
The anointed ones and their fractured promises  
Still somehow a harmony of one lonely leaf called out to him

Echoes from an apocalyptic cavernous wasteland
All the worlds suffering adjoined in one single note
With the agony and punishment
of all the dehydrated souls  

The traveler was resurrected by the choice to live in a world of sensation
Rather then some brick containment
He chose to let suffering be fall his confessions

With a symphony in one hand
And a chain saw in the other
He belted the incarnation of freedom

They all tumbled for the rocks
he , the saw and the beauty
The clashing cascade
A blessed rapture and necessary harmonic sacrifice
all to the gods of that ensure we never have silence

Some where he sits or gorily sleeps
The blank stare behind a rigid cut
Eyes of a seductive Mongoloid
Offering nothing for the poison of the sea

The arbitrary swirls of mechanical time pieces
Add  heavy track to this an
already shady beat

all the While A reproduction of some Germanic doll
Shrinks smaller into the keyholes
of his frontal lobe

A pleasant amnesia of the purist kind
This anglo doll she is now just a capsized pin
Her black and white knee socks mold into a geosed canvas
Ready to be re-painted with all the emotions he has left

What if I told you I loved you?
By the stairs with the works of post-modern misunderstanding
But it will be just a whisper of shear for the racket builds upward
The spinning mechanics joined by the school busses stopping forever

Yes that statement of old is clearly devoid
Merrily a swallow’s anthem
An absurd tangent of malfeasance
Almost a monosyllabic destruction

Only some misshapen coke spoons remain
As well asthe hands of a man who is much safer out of bed
The saline was much too dodgy
And the sheets…..Well they were never clean

Rolling skin shifts from side to side
This beating hit mashes
The backs of my knees so they are kissing spirits

The low beds here make you feel like a salmon
Caught in some fisherman’s net
Its obstructs your vision of the world

All you can classify from the passers by
Is the smell of their voyage
And the sand falling from their scalp muscles

The heat confuses your senses
Your insurrection causes you to plead for a truce
A plea not to be hearing German overtones in your own head

Where am I now in this weary plane crash?
Even the monsters make noises of bliss
The streets are filled with Technicolor tropics
2 joints for 8 dollars from homeless Anthony

A land of unbearable strangeness
Reality left us when the water fell
Completing an oasis of vibrancy and nutrition

The earth cracks beneath the roaming
Of infinite stray dogs and feral humans
Everything here has a tale
But you may not know it until it is wrapped around your inner thigh

A sixth sense of blasphemy
Forms a pit of fear in your stomach for whatever you left behind
Such creatures never meant to be seen caged between your very eyes

They grasp as if you were some ancient tree
Equally deserving of their devotion  

I am just an eroded soldier
And this armor is really starting to eat away at the cause
One can not find zen in this confusion
But we will all float down that path eventually
Zen can wait for I would rather wade with the sinners in the pool of exoneration

Pixels weigh upon my opaque mind set
The normal third tier of distance
is not asserting its wicked face

Never before has this scent wrung it self
From a fugitives discarded clothing
Dared to cross these topographic horrors

Deep in the hands of some bewildered mongrel
The evidence engulfs the ghastly thin walls

To lose the branding Hannibal
and his nomadic pursuit
Would mean retreat to an empty cavern

But With not even some flimsy novella?
The currents and the basket weaving
widows would not appease

The Ernest clock of monstrous honesty
Calls for us to depart
This holding cell is still filled
Deep with ticking heart valves

How many times has this repeated?
Were losing our grasp
It’s been hours
And without any thought devoid of mossy textures

Chalk smears and ambitious plastic
Dual neglected lives in this purgatory

The ones that have been haunted
They are boxed into some neurotic tri-valve machine
It spits back the violent and the tardy

Pleasing the populace is just not accessible today
It is without any grass
But this overly sensitive blanket that I touch
I must venture to this foreign world of pleasantries

Where cry shed over a dingy t-shirt
And the slow desertion of the wilder beast will not be tolerated

You unwrapped my blind fold
I could only see this mess of deconstructed bones
The smog filled my bleeding nostrils
I gasped to know the truth of a world rotating in circumvention

Tangents of humiliation
A crab crawls back into its used receptacle
It does not have to face the uneven shadows
Fairy wings brittle and break

The ashes of frightened unicorns
Paths off way far into the emasculated jungle
Hidden silences wielded in your depth
Machines and paper plates

The trees of battered car horns and biohazard bags
The stereotypical infantile jungle world  
Without the echoes of the children you never should have had

Mary prostitutes herself on the corner
The Holy Ghost burns unnoticed

Please let us go back to a time
When we could sit still without retrograding voices
Telling us to progress and revolve
We can no longer feel awesomed in the presence of a structural anomaly

One that had never lived or breathed
Or failed
We were on the verge of a revolution
Before they took our fairytales away

The myths were replaced with shear and utter disgust
For the entire human community
Let us retreat to the forest of Incas and attack dogs
For we can not have a revolution of one.

Soft vaccines in which all the lost souls determine there private playground
Musical chairs of frightened faces
Fellow lonely heat sources
Hidden in the private darkness without another to recognize
The warmth of reality
Without someone to guide you through the forest
How will you find the trees?
Confirmation is life’s essential deed
Necessitating human contact
Nothing is certainty without a plastic shadow recognizing it so.

The burning hunger of fractured regret
Your blasphemous assumption of my stupidity?
in whose material conundrum of a word?
in what abstract thought on your minimal plane?

An endless valley of craters and breaks
Monosyllabic color in your grossly proportioned mind
With all rotting media disgust and YOU mock me?

You ballooned beast of a drunken horror film nominee
The paint on a pigs face will always burn inward
Scarring the inside craniotomy
Until nothing is left but the repetition of a credo  
An incline of standard flat bodies

****** up and deposed All living in a drawl world
Steeped in liquid
Stretched thin to cover the inquiries
To burn over and brand the thinkers and the lots

An Oklahoma city bombing is still carved into your fair-haired breath
Your bigotry is hilarious because my disgust could eat us all
Yes I am leaping off my high horse but **** you I deserve it
We frown upon pride unless it is clothed in metaphors of suppression

And to what do you overcome?
Your perfect quiet suburban upbringing
Exposure blackballing the floor boards filled with lies

Lies that are my foundation
Rocks that rust into marbles rattling  
Around my stomach
With every rung the anger in my rib cage calls out to you
The yelping, the sheltered closet and the oriental rugs

Yes I am dumb like you
More happier in this fatal dichotomy
of a trip **** holy **** despotic mess.

Your blatant onyx stare transfixes me
Plunged into a deep dichotomies of guilt and persecution
Naked under your primordial gaze
Liberation pulses to my core

The passion floating in your eyes is more then have the drones I know
The tendrils of your long grandmother feet
Wrinkles dictating the violence you consumed  
As you lay collapsed between holes in fences

The grip on my notebook tightens til its painful
Our staring contest has turned deadly
Meanwhile the one in the next cage is creating a disturbance
Tracing circles with his finger tips as he swings
His tale attached to the conical world vision  

You are not like him
your toenails turn black as a tarnished weapon
Maybe it is you that has adapted
My eyes look vacant in your reflection Of shock and conniving references

Your movements contort logic
Teleportation from within
The steps would break me into fractures
So  ill-suited to this wild world for which you were born

I have switched to mechanics
The pen and the paper are morning my bemuse
The organic matter is dying just
Artificial forced relationships
With penetrative remarks

The tiny prism in the back of my mind
Where I can not stake out the feelings
It is forcing me to convulse on this awful thing
Those white walls are suppose to fool you
Repudiating that they are of silence


Do not placate me young sir
I know that’s were things come to a halt
You enlist them into your nihilistic theories
They can not see cyclical processes
The influxes of hysteria
that inevitably ward out the insurgency

No you claim them among the broken
Make them scared of large boxes with no windows
But does it even matter
The black matter had cast them to the seductress anyhow


The very seductress, whose embodiment of good and evil fools even me
Can she not see the rampant fires?
The cages that are cracking
As the mice turn on each other

Or is it calculated
Politically over dramatized to fool even the most sincere
You remind me of my mother
and the United States government

The will call my a conspirator
But ill know you never landed on the moon
And even if you did
You didn’t caress its very surface  

You didn’t risk your life
to just inhale the fumes of a memorial
It was nothing more then capitalist foot hold in outer space to you
No matter how much you sing about it

And what for me?
I could fix you in one splash of a recall  
But that wouldn’t change the fact that the gears are all out of whack
And the turnstiles
can’t see color anymore

I am growing blinder everyday
But I can never find my oracle under all this *******  
He has possessed me that
Flying gingerbread monkey

Before this I liked solidarity
Juggling my own fortunes
My own soggy breath fill up the window signs  

Now I am a menacing
Ravished house beast
Revering for him to make me categories and pie charts
This isn’t the competition that he enlisted for

But maybe will make it just five weeks and completely meaningless topics we will become the foremost informant
Populously used factoids over martinis
God know me and the monkey are socially *******

As this thing of forsaken design
has morphed into a manifestation of everything wrong with my punitive inception
We must talk about the alcohol.
Dwindling alone a poor and empty bottle
no worries it will have friends

Should I be concerned about my physical stability?
Not really I rather like bisecting my liver
and pouring to the brim
No its that I don’t enjoy it ,,,,,alcoholics are suppose to be a jolly breed
Why else would AA be so giggly?

I have tried to reform and it won’t be in vain
I won’t give up the dream
and succumb to a lobotomy
Just cause I Cant hold my liqueur

This is worse then the torah
A bigger degradation then the bible
If only I had cried for the proletariat
Then I would be famous

But even though the trances are fun
And the posterior eradicating
OH dark and shifty friend I have missed You!

And I do mourn in some postulated manner
for the orphans
But they would have made it out of their capsules
if you just gave them time

Your over sized eyes offer no kind of fear
Mostly just a jovial inquiry
Into the most trivial causes of our existence
You eager little child

The tuffs of you hair sprout sideways
A random treble of camouflage comfort
As if to explore
Not obstructed by some code of calamity

Not a paw or a hand
The tiny tongs of your fingers spread
grasping some house wives fruit salad
Your nails colored like a stained cigarette

Once pried away from the comforts of your cage
You grasp tightly to the mixed fabrication of my dress
Ever so snugly you claw at my hips
With your coarse outer being longing for more

If I loosened my grip you would tighten yours
Not out of fear
But of pure connection
Even in this writhing heat who could not welcome this kind of embrace

Once placed in a tree
Your head swivels as if on a pike
The look on your face indicates you are on the best acid trip of your life
Perfectly content just to be staring at my face
Examining the purple shadows
And the hidden valleys of my eyebrows

Sunbeams radiate from your egg shaped contemplation
You are dewily mellow old friend
When you look at me
I want to burst into ironic symphonies of bliss
The love of a sloth

Isolationist theories
of my brutal development
A mask
In the world of passengers

Regretting every slight disruption
Making icy chatters of teeth
As we wonder

How will these small altercations
Affect the grand course
of my surreptitious collapse?
Just a violent object on an axis
A washer head
thrown into a tumultuous ocean of visions

A flickering correspondent
Lying on an abolition
The worst things happening to the best people
It spins and breaths and *****

This molested scared demon
Anally penetrating all that I believe is genuine
Reels of my childhood development
Played on repeat to search for ammunition

The tunneling rib cages of my insanity
The forest nymph of all that is good
The one who created me
Locked away in a windowless world

Analyzed as if lockness was one of them
I always thought it would be me
Falling  to where I could not be found
How am I still standing?

Bluffing as the Victim of the malicious hog
All the while Suppressing the innate Desire
to be taken

To be Defiled and found as worthless as concrete coating your mouth
A Fraud they say, but no merely a deviant

Painted to be weak in the great shrine
The rational world order living without the passion
The disillusioned with their unnamed desires  
Living Fallacies
walking while bleeding of burnt rubber

Succumbing to the Needs of the flesh is the root to heaven
Not all can be chosen to denounce their civil way
You need an inner burner
a leach
A Knowledge that you are great and unusual

An ability to convince the wisdom
A Spirituality
in the sick desires fraught with holes
Fear is a natural and ****** emotion
Submit or live without truth

Partied by a daylight not worth receiving
The lighted archways of judgment
Beam down on your skeletal appearance
Urging a break away from some monumental collapse

A ragged dolls face
Stitched on the body of a human waste receptacle
Your bruises and burn scares
The missteps of your creation

Out of the depths of blackened fornication
Moonlight tones of a memory
An insemination that never happened
Carnal desires blunted at hello

Stitched at the seams
I know those are just beads in your eyes
Blankness recedes from the shore lines
Unveiling to yourself the residue of our indiscretions together

Briefly awarded the rank of general
Now collapsed into what we would not refer to as a person of distinction
Not a person of substance or quality
How would this concoction respond?

This ball of human anti-matter
This forgiven body of curses and regret shoveled
Slowly into some one else’s normal circumstance
Faced with complacency of this evil renunciation

To live another’s life
Pure banality
Pure monotony
Maybe I was bread for this

My absolute destiny is to skull **** the **** out of life
To blast open the empty cleavage
To shatter all the deceptive phonographs
Those that you now consider “convenient modes of transportation”

Every dawn I will howl into your vibrating monotones
Your Dutch rambling will be reduced to ashes
Alone in a ***** hostel

You will be shocked by the sight of a desecrated ******
The fish scales still burning
Left in their natural preservatives

The lowest of all the adorned creatures
Is he who succumbs to mediocrity
An ordinary existence is worse then a wasted *** receptacle
If they cant see the truce in a setting sunlight

It is a sin to deteriorate comfortably
Making circles with the tracks of your laymen’s truck
of waking up happy with your plastic name tags
carved to resemble an ignorant life scrap

This **** disgusts me
It is the skull ******* that define a generation
Grab your sword a
and plunge deep into the night

A laudable combination of weapons of mass destruction
and drunkards
This is one less moment you spend being ordinary