Am I really a good person?
I have a moral voice, but is it mine?
Was it forced upon me or given as a gift?
Am I just Objectively good and emotionally bad?
Or the other way around?
Was it simply the song I grew up hearing in my head and never forgot?
Was I simply brain washed into being moral?
Am I really that moral or have I just been around it my whole life?
Or - was no one around me truly moral and I was the opposite?
Is that why I've never understood their morals?
What if I'm so good at lying to myself that I don't even know it?
What if I die, and my soul is the bad part of me?

it's hard for me to let you go,
you look like an angel
--a deviant against God,
beautiful and forbidden
--against impermanence

ever-lasting;
a taste of ambrosia
a touch of Midas; gold
--yet rarer than the birds
that seem to circle around
--your crown;
not of thorns,
but early morning dew

and the fruits you bear;
not of love,
but grief
--and indelible prints
pressed on your skin...

you make my heart beat,
for once it never moved,
until my shadow was seen.
it's hard for me to let you go.

I am a ginger not the drink
But I am who i am
Take it out leave it
But this I will say
That you will pay the price for
You abscennce and abuse
By having my snap
Oh ginger snapps
Oh ginger snapps
But it will be justified
For who you treated me

When I was going for a drive
Well being driven when
I realized that I did not have
My phone nor iPad
Were with me
The same thing with Sirenhead
I was not able to picture
The
Discs of light
Flying through the night sky
UFOs I saw
But I never thought to take a picture
But this I say
I believe

Physically we are here, there is no doubt
Mentally we are aware, and fully appreciate our situation.
But emotionally? Please we both know we died 2 years ago.

Grandma would smack my hand
Gently
She meant well and I'd feel guilty
Lessons she'd learned passed to me
The lore solidified this importance
A compromise? To the salon!

I'd pick at my nail polish
A compromise from the worst?
Chipping and scraping them bare
Until they were ugly
Back to boy hands

Tomorrow could be life changing
Yet I'd face it without rest
Will or would?
Fine, I'll stop picking.

Show no mercy
Leave no witness

As nightly, screens scream,
buckle, near break
with images of blistered humanity
abroad
with normal folk caught
in quick-quick-slow anxiety,
at home
a fat clown
knights a *****

often times I notice the universe doesn't want me in this place.
like cutting my airways short, sometimes it is hard to breathe.
or the weariness that climbs up my chest.
I know this fear is a void in me but I know it isn't empty.
the world is getting rid of me in subtle, subtle ways no one can see but me.