how hard it is
to cut calloused skin.
how hard it is
to bleed the devil's blood.

I say, walk away.
Walk.
Away. Can you hear me speak it?
Walk away from that not-happening-love

What’s to speak
When words are of bronze and aluminum
Each syllable metal grain living bullet-wise bitter in your mouth...

Strip away the dross of the “why nots” and “what ifs”
To leave yourself with a hard, small, sad
Stone-heart
Smooth with knowing

What’s to know
When the facts are decided before-hand,
Written out in neat print-writing
On six-inch cardboard squares

That this love- such as it is- does not belong.
Is naught but itself, is no more. Is yours alone.
To take this fact, tear it to bits
And grind it beneath your heel

What’s to do
When the other people are pixels, dots, lines
Two dimensional child-drawn angels without wings

Do this with pride so that all who see you
Want to clap in joy at your courage,
Want to mourn, and to feel the glory with you:

Walk away,
Walk away tall,
Walk away tall and calm and super-duper cool

I hate you
you are less than dead to me
you are the ground that I spit on
you are the ashtray that I put my cigarette out on
I ******* hate you.

Who the **** do you think you are?
Stealing up everyone that used to be mine.
Like you are some kind of special
You aren't.
You are horrid
and vile
and hideous
both inside and out.

Oh how you make
my skin crawl
my blood boil
my head ache
my hands quiver

I don't wish death upon you
for that would be a luxury
I wish heart ache
eternal heart ache
one that can never be healed
no matter how many kisses
how many *****
how many promises
you will forever be alone.

Laughter
Laughter explosions
Diabolic cruelty
That crude red carving
The grinning maw
Of the purity devouring beast
Know best for his face
His maliciously insane
Irrational thought patterns
He laughs at a two word phrase
As he caves in a woman's face
Sprays bleach and mace
from a fake flower on his chest
Lobs hand grenades recklessly
Muttering jokes that only he fully understands
Minions bent to his twisted humor
Severed limbs and organs sent
With personally crafted limericks
Fourteen inch barrel
.44 Magnum revolver
Crash a clown car into rush hour traffic
Feed the mayors poodle
To a pack of hyenas
Grease paint white face
Toxic green locks, slicked back
Red Cheshire cat grin
Ear to ear
Like the mouth of a demon of madness
Do not ponder why he laughs
He laughs because he must.

Smothered in leftover sausage ham gravy
A liver-spotted sewer-swimin' baby
Crawls up to the dumpster as Ma and Pa
Dig din din out of the can can
Before the man man comes out with the pan pan
And smacks em' all up real good like.  
Homeless in the gutters rely on the
Percentage of Americans that aren't
Obese pieces of **** that finish not only
Their meals but their plates and silverware...
Some even eat the waitress.  
How fat must you be, America?