Bitter cold
no flames of war
can warm

Shielding an old man
from the streaming bullets
the dying tree
watches with pity
a dying man
chop down
one of its blackened limbs
stagger
and drag it
into another ash dark night

dwelling in a bathtub full of ember
skin, transparent like a plastic raincoat
max' core is a cage, his mouth like a cave
tags are scratched into his hands

he is walking over liquid letters, since
doctors replaced his blood with milk
cats are drinking from his open wounds
max is asking the mirror:

who could i be?
who do i want to be?
what will i become?
who am i now?

his memories are windows
the head is mutating, it will explode
thoughts are gobbling thoughts
wishes **** other wishes

the young max longed to be old
the old max wants to be young
a life, hidden in a purple casket
secrets drive each of his moves

addicted to the white magic of death
self-destructive, not trustworthy
he exchanged his kids against trance
sirens are singing songs of oblivion

take him away from this journey
trapped is he in placelessness
he became the thing he dreaded
nightmares are haunting his dignity

will his actions turn into an epitaph?
a funeral, under the heaven of his skin

A weapon that’s finely honed—
not more than a wire, a knife.
Nowhere on Earth I belonged,
until you invaded my life.

Around me, your arms wrap with comfort;
warmth spreading; hold’s steady, no effort.

Throughout, all’s familiar, safe.
My self (for what I always longed)—
no longer a weapon, a knife—
a man, fully, finally owned.

I am a selfish man.
Here, now, even then,
I take all that you give, all you offer.
From a boy to a man, as I suffer,
You arise and blossom, beside me.
Still, my feelings, desires escape free.

Stop this greed—I don’t know if I can.
I am yours, I am a selfish man.

NICE ****
looks like i know where i'm going to **** all over next ...

that's right

right in your *******

hahahah  never saw that one cuming

Down at the business factory profits were low
or at least lower than the shareholders wanted
so Hyper-Capitalist Genius Man masterminded a brilliant plan:
“We have three people performing a task
two people could accomplish while losing their minds
attrition rates shouldn’t be a concern
because we’ll just streamline the jobs
so there’ll always be desperate workers
who can easily replace the disillusioned ones.”.

The other businessers were impressed
the emperor of business had heard enough:
“****** you’re ‘Work People to Death‘ theory might just work.
I’m naming you chief execution officer of the company.”.
Profits went up and were disseminated amongst the higher-ups
so that everyone that mattered was happy
all thanks to Hyper-Capitalist Genius Man.

I was told I had nice ****,
         but they were a tad on

the hairy side...

A Woman can be so judgmental..

they aren't sagging,
                            and yes I may be an A cup,

but anything is more than a waste to my wife..