Hello dark.

The walls are wet
The cave is hidden
Legs cut through black water

Via rapid movement I reveal a face in the sand, a scar in the algorithm.

A body covers itself in lavender mist

Manly, soft and asleep, his eyes are emeralds buried by the salt of life.

The mans **** transforms into the fountain of lost dreams

Him
    He
       His phone is dead.
        Arms cool colored and heavy

A swimmers body.

The sand reappears around his face. The grains shape into a pair of headphones arched over his skull, like the sweeping architectural feats of those ancient cathedrals.

Lights of subway tunnels devour the faces of strangers  


Wet
   Glittering rock
The Nobel breast stroke
Head above water
   Feet kick past the abyss

Our naked bodies press against one another.  dancing to the glorious choir of nothingness

a ghost of west coast dreams  

He ***** himself to sleep every night
As he waits for future/past lovers
And dreams of ugly angels

each scrawling night,
i stumble to my cave.
moss walls dripping—
the ocean kissing the lip.

i scratch my voice
into the bare rock,
with the sunlight trickling
in with the tide.

i poke my head out
when the night seeps
over the horizon...
i watch the cave flood.

Lured into the cave
by curly hair
reflected on the ceiling
behind the entrance, I hope

to discover a wonder
not believing in an evil
spell that will **** me
on a chilly oyster bank

shivering I lie on the nail bed
that is cutting open my skin
while I repeat the mantra
It's not real, the knives

about to fall, the horror
of the maggots that slither
to my eyes and pop into
my head like dying fireworks

It's not real, It's not real
it's the cool of the mountain
it's ice drip and stalactites
it's the shiny glitter

of water on the wall, wonders
of pristine nature, feeding
my imagination with images
of what I don't want to do to her

I was born into this, something I never wanted.  And all of my life, I've been running, hunted.  We're being tracked down and slaughtered, chased, by people with fire as their ally, their weapons made of silver or simply wooden stakes.  You've run us into a corner and murdered all of my kind out of fear, not a shred of their existence left behind, proclaiming it was for everyone's sake.  I am the sole survivor, the last of my race.  I have vowed not to fall victim to the same fate.

You've claimed me to be a monster, but what does that mean?  The only monster I see is you.  Murdering and spreading rumors of my kind, you don't understand what I've been through.  Saying I've slain many, but you've killed more than a few.  Stop speaking of such things; it's hurting me.  Stop lying to yourself.  Why can't you see? Are you ignoring it purposely?  Look at me, into my soul, and realize the devastation caused by your pursuit.  Why can't you understand?  Monsters have feelings too.

Though, it is too late to go back to peace.  The people can only see something unreal, a fake part of me.  And now, I will never be free.  I'm forever running from your conceit.  I have done nothing to bring you to this.  I've cut off my horns, my fangs, and my claws to try and be a part of your bliss.  I burnt my fur and scorched my skin, but all I've done has been dismissed.  I have to hide in caverns deep.  In the cold and damp, I sleep, afraid to be found in my cavern keep.

I could never fight you, that would only make things worse than before.  My skin is covered in my crimson blood and I'm in pain from the scars.  In anguish, I roar.  My gargantuan, curled ebony horns lay broken and cast aside; my thick, midnight blue fur reduced to patches and strewn across my stone lair; my calloused pads raw from running; my weary eyes tortured and worn.  I've given up on living any longer.  It's better to die and to be conquered than to be caged and grow weak from hunger; so I step out of the cave, crawling out on all four; and I lie down, exhausted, on the forest floor.

what have i become. .
what have you made of me, mother?
what have you sculpted, brother?

carved to perfection,
into an ivory soulless wreck,
a hopeless mess, high off morbidity and agony,

carved to perfection,
to attend to your lavish needs,
of a stripped youth,
hidden under a blood stained carpet floor,

and you do it so lovingly,
as i reach for air,
when you've buried me
six feet under.

Watching videos

I see shadows of people –


Is it Plato's cave?