…at four in the morning,
the room was sharp and silent
through the stillness of the dark
and yet, I sang those old songs
swaying in the cold wind
with bottle upon my breath
as I dreamt of green birds
and the lonely white lotus
that kept fluttering
into my scratched head
while coming apart at the seams
with tears of sadness
I sat and pondered
where they all went:
those little caramel ladies of brown doom
with novocaine souls and enamel bodies;
you gave me the liveliest moments
even when you brought me
to the brink of death,
you have liberated me during
my most shackled state of mind,
you spilled the truth when you
told me, “I could never be reached.”
and therefore I must come to terms
with the absence of your warmth
as the green birds have flown
into concrete skies
and the white lotus has shriveled
into a curling black mass
I sway with the wind,
rising the bottle
and belting out
those old songs
in a room so
sharp and silent
at four in the morning.

Walk for it...
Ideal's for sojourn's deed
A promised jewel for your wit
Spare to my eye, wishes will feed...

Mercy, to a quaint dance
Might a problem sit?
I will still kind, of a shared defense
Misery, is remembering when I meant...

Simplicity's swallow...
Of verisimilitude to conceive
All's of a decision, here to hallow
Risks or retinue, waiting is ours to believe

A drive for impression...
Is salt the divine?
A shame has tendered, a care's lesson
A quieter question, that will share haves marital shine?

Profession of a charisma's flower:
Shall we compare ourselves
To awe or wisdom, known a charity for my sighing's lover
That has a voice that gave merit, my name, for what delves...

Macabre things make me smile
Too much for me to be sane.
Death arouses my inner child
Escaping me from the mundane.
Life is bitter while death is sweet
As the shadows haunt me
Down these now empty streets.
But in death I am one
With the night,
Dark as pitch and black tones,
Blue and violet bruises
Burning bright on my soul.
There were many times when even I
Felt the hum drum judgement of god
Thundering upon me through pale light,
You would have thought I'd been robbed...
In any case, if I should ever yell out in a rage
Or cry profusely over all the pain,
Bend down to my ear and
Remind me there are better days.

I'm throwing tantrums at the page I know that now.
I just want to see if they will stick
& what they will finally say
once I complete.
How many things can one word say
How many words can one page hold
How many girls can I **** in a lifetime
some or many
None.
Any.
Slip into my cinderblocks—pretty
New style,
smack Breaks tile,
Wait for the fuckboys to finish fillin up the fish tank, I'm at the bottom
feelin petty,
Suckin blue,
Countin out the seconds till I'm trapped beneath this filthy pool.
Thrash tantrum,
Flash forward,
Zoom zoom
I look up and wonder will the elephants come save me, but there's not one in the room,
nobody watchin
Im a goner,
and I've been one
ever since I started kicking in the water.

Starts out awful
Continues on the same destructive path
reaching the end, you either fall off or return the way you arrived
and chose a method that lets you sleep at night
Held on too tight
perhaps I just waited too long
Sulking in my own world filled with despair
wondering what I truly deserved if not the worst
While entertained in my thoughts reality woke and got away
it was hard to catch it and beg it to stay
So I just let it go and slept the days away

Why do men sit sulking alone?
Is it worse than Premenstrual Syndrome?
Is PFS far worse for men?
Indeed, by PFS, what is meant?
Why, it's Post Football Syndrome!
Don't say it's only a game, Oh no!
Round here, it's total blasphemy,
Or, let's say, utter heresy!
SSHHH...let's tiptoe away,
Dodging his tantrums today,
How does PFS affect you?
Find something else to do,
Preferably in another room,

Why do men sit sulking alone?
Easy, they have Post Football Syndrome...
SSSHHHHH......!!!!!