Stunted, the same, by
          highs
            and
           lows
           alike.
A jubilant parade inside
           some nights.
Silver linings? Ticking timebombs! Infinite splinters!
No good time left unexploded.
Rusted blood iron and red wine
filling my eyes.
          Tired of feeling "weird."
          Tired of knowing I'm being.

I wish I wanted anything in a way that didn't
                              scare me.
I wish I could love anything in ways that
                            couldn't hurt--
                           --inward or out--

                    I wish...
                    I think...
If I sit on this bench...for a long time,
and keep perfectly still...but make subtle
                    eye contact
          with some of the crows...
they'll accept me as one of them?

                    Teach me to fly
                    Or, at least, hide
                       in plain sight.
        A new vocabulary for my quiet
              when it starts to get mean.

Entangled, alike, by
          lows
          and
          highs,
         the same.
Convenient jailbreak for a Name--
               --Say it.
Chewing paper? Eat the playbook. Shred this formula.
No good night goes unpunished.
Rusted blood in my mouth, and red wine--
crying outside
                    Tired of being fragile
                    Tired of knowing I know.

                   And how 'bout the crows?

                   I'm good for a laugh, they suppose.

Squishy fated
Topography
Meant to puzzle
Together,
the nexus of
Interlocking
limbs--
pulsing and
pumping.

The conductive
catalyst
the dazed hazy
Swooning--
I bite my lip
and you start to
give in,
I won't tell you no--
take a hit
to the bed
grabbing sheets
*******
air past teeth
no thoughts
just breathe...
or don't.

Choke
on the nexus
of firing synapses
the electric relapses
into shivers and moans--
****--
I need
to
feel you.

Your skin
lingers in
the shivers--
in the wake
of the day
my body
Remembering
that you
aren't there
and it aches.

Please--
Lead me there,
Take
Me
Please,
Let me
bathe in
your twilight.

You can hear the alarm bells,
See the red flags.
You know this will ruin you,
And you walk in with eyes wide open
Nonetheless.

You try to justify it to the world,
To yourself.
It's the end of the road;
a sense of belonging, finally,
of having a purpose,
and you're tired.
So tired of wandering, searching,
Hoping.
Choking on the salt in the air, the sea an endless barren desert with no land in sight.
So when you hear the siren's call,
And you know it spells doom,
You answer it anyway.
At least it will be over.

Except it's not death you're heading towards, but not a life either,
You'd be called crazy
If there were anyone around.

You're tired, and this feels safe,
To fall sleep in a dungeon,
To drop your heavy defenses.
It's hard work keeping them up,
And you're tired.

There's no room for mistakes in chains.
Your hands can't move to sin.
You're clean, and good;
Your mind is light, free from worry
And planning.

Your eyes fall shut.
You don't dream.

Put it in a box and tell it you’re mine
Chain it up tight and tell it it’s fine
Make it wait. Make it shake.
Make it quiver. Make it quake.

Keep it dark. Full of despair.
Make it gasp for every breath of air.

Tell it don’t you dare —
Move and it might just tear.

Maybe even share
for a faire

to dress it up, dress it down
Make it smile, make it frown

With metal spikes to keep it still
Easy to use, ready to fill.
Into the morning and through the night
It should know better than to put up a fight.

12/28

I dream of leathered men, I dream of you, touching me, ******* me, loving me.
Hold me in your clutch, dominate me, make me yours.
Your voice like velvet, and your body like diamond.
Cut me, mark me, I am your canvas.
I am your art.
The cruelest artist with a delicate touch.
I beg of you.
I whimper in pleasure.
More please.
"Be a good boy for me" "yes sir" on my knees. Complete submission.
Take me to space.
Make me forget all that came before you.

we've been playing for months, yet
i am no longer the master of my own game.
i sit and wonder, "how did i get here?"
without ever truly questioning myself.
simply because i knew.
it is as though I am currently without a name.
considerably since "This" is no longer Me.
who I am, who That is,
                I am no longer certain.
I have simply become a replica of Its impression on Self.
      "tick tock, tick, tock."
the arrogance of time refuses to stop,
and "now" becomes a fleeting "then"
as My life slips through "Her"
into a dazed, drunken phase.
time only lingers in the present
for those who are truly Present.
Her time is lost, so what is My time
when the days blur together?
"Her" memory sanitized and wiped cleaned.
***** cleans wounds, right?
Dissociation to self,  the insouciant desire to care.
an erratic, chaotic, tumultuous torrential downpour.
I'm theatrical sure, but passionately so.
"Passion," i'll drink to that.
                   "Pain" has me pouring another,
                                                    and another.
"Reward me," and we'll cheers to the clear liquid that
warms my throat with each increasing gulp.
"Relax." you worked hard, take one or two.
              Six deep, Seven's the magic number,
                          plus, what's one more?

yet one will never be enough.    "sleep or shoot."
            
                            don't forget to swallow.
                            you know you love it.

stop saying no when You can say "yes,"
and stop holding back, when I'm telling You "NO."

                         stop fighting...
                                                ...su­ccumb to the misery.
  
 besides, just one pour will make it all better.