Will I find you in Spring?
Immersed in profound happiness,
Or do I look for you in autumn?
In the depths of my despair,
Hollow and brittle,
Like the leaves.

The plasticiser of human flesh–
Influence,
Poured on without filter or mesh.
Swabbed, glazed
Over a body.
The victim left in a daze
While we
Watch (unknowingly? Or not?)
As they rot away,
Day by day.
They’re less brittle,
Yet it seems this plasticiser has little
Positive effect.
For the promoting of flexibility
Just seems to mean two-facedness
And a lack of respect
To them and me.
Plasticiser just turning our world to mush–
To get it done,
I’m truly in no rush.

The fairytale of America
is dead to me
Killed by a ******* in horns
Maybe my veil has simply been lifted
Long has it been so for others
while still others never knew
its comforting shade
A reverence as meaningful now
as that for Santa Claus
Was my faith so brittle so ignorant
Is it still
Seems so
**** I don't know
I need to visit those stones again
let them speak through the cold
They were never silent but
maybe now I won't be deaf to their story
maybe now I'll listen
maybe now

My courage
My strength
My bravery

It's all a show for those who see
Inside I'm hoping no one will test them
And see that they break in use
in practice
in walk
like brittle bones

My brittle heart
longs to be held
by your small hand

My mind is a minor flutter;
Looping movies within ultimate stutters.
I'd tell you I'm feeling better,
But I am a stick of butter.

I look into gaze of grateful maze,
Only to pop amongst unholy haze.
My mind is beautiful,
But what is the craze?
My ego deserves to jump into my idiot blaze.
I hope this is a phase.

Little do I know that I am an end;
Whether I am today or tomorrow, it depends,
Though it will come soon.
The red blends with my toothpaste.

My body's shaking,
my bones are breaking.