I’m a man, made out of the tin;
sheets of worn-out metal,
decaying in an orchard
with my trusty axe and kettle.

I cried myself to rust
because I have no heart,
No love for this metallic man;
no soul mate counterpart.

Can’t you hear the sounds
that echo underneath?
A hollow empty shell
where a heart's supposed to beat.

The days are long and grinding;
the nights are even longer.
Rotting away in this field
my mind begins to wonder.

I dream of sweet devotion
that I want to feel
and cardiac vibrations
put in this man of steel.

A coronary muscle
overflowing with affection
is all I ever wanted,
an emotional connection.

Wait! What’s this......??

I see ruby sparkles
and stare with fascination.
It's skipping upon some yellow bricks,
is this a hallucination??


To Be Continued.....

I gave up somewhere along this road—
When it was I don’t know.
So I’ll sit here, underneath the shade
And wait for the Tin man,
Now rusted in time, far behind me.
I discovered, sitting there, that day—
That losing a heart
Was actually an easy thing to do.

Myths

They were not statues
and now you see what they see
looking back at you


Man

Her tongue, was so sharp
dissevers men from their ******
kisses them goodnight!

Our blind date went well
Next time leave my mask at home,
and her eyes attached.

Scratched, stained, double locked.
Basement corner, light bulb off.
Refrigerator.

Won't let him hurt you.
I promise, now go and hide,
Daddy is coming...

I don't remember,
I keep having these blackouts.
Sorry I hurt you.


Movie

Make-out Point, moonlight...
Turn their car radio on,
leave my hook behind.

50 ft. Woman,
dreams of a fifty foot world.
Curse my two left feet.

Empty, shiny man
His axe hacks you limb from limb
You hear a heartbeat

Wound too tight, tied down
Whisper lies, impale your skull
What is a real boy?

"Last person on earth,
dif'rent faces in mirror."
- Frankenstein's Monster


Miscellaneous

appeared as a zit
it grew, no concern for it
it spoke! *******!

Lamprey fingertips
Coarse hair on infected tongue
Lotus seed ******

My beast sounds like love,
vanity to a monster,
hero to a ghost.

from Horrors Grotesque,
the existential monster
fears little carpals.

As the ashes slowly turn to dust
I slowly begin to rust
For my love is gone

He took it all
Along with my heart
And I slowly begin to realize how hard my body took the fall

But this isn't the end
My story can't end here
I just have to take my time and mend

Then once again I'll rise
When someone new comes and picks up my broken pieces
And breaks through my disguise

So I must wait
Standing here exposed like bait
Until someone takes the time of day
To despite my now heartless chest
Love me anyways