I retain, fixed
unworldly
cashed-in
a point
until corroded by metological formula
and practical social delinquency

Weather me down
til I am camera
projector
and pinhole

Pure and abyss-less
lights vehicle
apperatus
                         - forget me not

It seems that heads are rolling
And ideas are left to perch atop
These humanoid bodies.
Unnatural.
When did humanity lose itself and begin
To create the poison we consume?
The rotten images of walking ***
And fumes of chemical death?
These corrosive lifestyles spread like
Wildfire and teenage legs.
Soon, there will be nothing
But the empty heads that
Obsess over the next ****,
The next dose of whatever form of
****** is "The New Hot Topic."
And the rest of us will be left
Picking up the pieces.

Black hole, please, absorb this!
This horrible image,
This regrettable instance In which
I had lost myself to
Blindness.

Lover, Force me to look at you
And nit into the past that is
A marble statue with claws and teeth
That protrude like swords.
Tell me I can let go
Of the rotted flower petals
Covered in mold and betrayal,
They said they would stay
Beautiful!
Tell me I can rinse the slime
Of false hope from my body
And my intimacies so that
I may be pure for you.

Quicksand, drop this putrid locket
Into your depths and clog the clasp
So that no one will ever see the inside.
Obey Me!
Take my sacrifice, my past and
Everything
Corroded! Tell me
That I am able to forget
And be forgotten!

I can taste the licks of flame in my mind,
Just barely; I cry. The sour flavour corrodes
My tongue, telling me I can't continue
To suffer the wrath. The scent kills me,
And I continue to defy what is constantly
Whispered in my fragile ears.
The sound of the bitter cackling of demons
Burns the wings of butterflies that inhabited
My entire body. The smoke from the charred,
Powder-white wings of moths,
Parasites, kiss the scares and open them again.
The desire to feel the pain consumes the spindly legs
Of butterflies trying to escape, nearly dead
By fire caused by my own hands.
My fingers shake, I am cold.
But my messages are not clear anymore.
I am no butterfly on fire.
They are all dead.