Junk sickness unearths this
Deep-rooted, oozing desperation.
Slack jaws,
Eyes
Bouncing in the back of your skull.
Tear through the paper flesh,
Scraping for a vein
Needing of
Molestation,
Mutilation,
Shredded from that constant need,
That whining itch,
To feel nothing
And everything all at once.
Praying for the earth to melt
Around the bare bones
Of the walking dead.

I am
But an observer
Stuffed in the back seat
While needles clog,
Blood surges,
Rage stirs.
I am
Just a spectator
To their universe coming to a
Creeping
Dull thud,
As they dream of better days that will
Surely come.
I am
Not sure
If it's possible to dig yourself
Back up
From the depths of a self-made grace.
I am
Not sure
If there is life after dope.
Lust swelters,
The shot is done,
We drive on.

blue human clouds,
sweetheart,
all you do is rain
so many nights were worth leaving me
and you took them in your vein

you forget me again
and with the things you never say
i guess im to blame
for letting you drive me insane

dying just to smile
coming to the end of your lies
and you,
the end your insides
because pills, people, hearts
all subside

Cars,
Like coffee pots,
Break down,
And more so,
When you least want them to.

So imprisoned,
The frigid,
And with no power-windows,
We didn’t care about the heat,
Only the smoke
That now stung our eyes –

Two-fold
Atop already open wounds,
And the cancerous,
Lying in wait, most often,
Indiscriminately.

So enters the second urge,
And it controls me,
I don’t control “it;”

“It” being a mood frosted
Amnesia, free,
Like beer’s hiss,
At the crack of a can.

And like beer,
“It” runs out
When the money does;

All too quickly to be
Replaced by the
Haunts of –

Bill collectors, war
And the knife in the drawer.

Something beckons when
We spot a diner from within
The snowbound derelict
We reside.

Scraped change and reckonings,
We can afford a few,
Drinks.

Forgotten were the coats when
We abandon ship, abandon you,
Abandon me,
And more importantly,
The haunts;

Our chariot, a remain,
A wreck on shores unknown
With bodies, perhaps,
Left for the living come spring.

I want to stop;
To never do it again.
I've wanted that before,
But I could never make it,
The threat, couldn't shake it.
This time, I have to do it,
Then, it'll be no more.
Six times that has happened,
But there was never any change.
So what's different this time?
Each time I was desperate,
I hate how that feels.
But never hated it enough
To stop what I was doing.
I can't look at myself;
I can't live with it anymore.
I'm tired of the hate,
I'm tired of the shame.
Maybe that's what makes
This time so different.
All the hate has piled up,
A ticking bomb,
And if it explodes, then I'm gone.
I don't want that, so I
Decide to try again,
To lie awake and wait for morning
And see what may come
With the breaking of dawn.
If it is the breaking of me,
Then so be it,
But I will be real.
Real and broken,
But forever rid of the
Mask and the nightmares
That it brought.

Chewing on plastic
Milk maid curd, her currents slowly load torrents
My mind wheel churn, my teeth count the burns
This heavy music feels me with fillings
*****
He felt
*****
It hurt as a child