been to your house
where all the light bends -
where all the Flamingos  
eat their feet
for Fear of landin'.
where the crosses burn your heart
and your Art
is a Most Lost Cause -
I've seen you at random
according to
your plan...
i've found you
smoldering in the east wing
of a westerly
advance.

been to your world
where the girls in the air are priceless
and found you among them
trimming treacle from
the diamonds... your gorgeous lungs
twirling the unbelieveable highness
of a soft note
from no
song.

Everyone's out to outdo everyone else
It's not even about meaning anymore
It's how much press coverage it gets
Whoever makes them "just" statistics
And there's no fantasy draft yet

Somewhere alone in his dark place
Ruminating his environment
Some bedwetting, fire starting, animal abuser
Infantilized by the hatred of maternal instincts
Projected on him
De-evolved

He likes the way she hurts him
She abuses open hand words
or clenched up fists of embarrassment
It just fuels his homicidal tendencies
His brains on the hate frequency
And he's ready to let the fantasy slip

Home is where the heartless host
absence of emotional ghosts
the boy
the man
the monster

He lost it

Family annihilator,
He took his mother out last
So she'd suffer through
the destruction of the *******
Her wasted wish
of abortion'd children.

This was before the news vans
This was before the first respondents
This was before the society outlash

Back to him alone in a dark place
In the depths of his disturbing mind
He sets higher stakes.

I wrapped my lips
around your neck

Drank you down
kept palates wet

You left marks
I know just what
you meant

Bottoms up
     choke the message down
Little girl
     Do you wanna tear each other apart?
****** set
     fire to my *****

Heart shaped x-ray glasses
Now reality is the new *** tape
We're all framed in

Oh,
The transgressions you keep rewinding
Because fantasies just slow you down
Oh,
When you wanna keep moving
find grace in what you're doing
Oh,
The progressions the soul makes
when it follows the
heart beaten
path
Oh,
Can you even last?
I know
sometimes
I can't

I just wanna get off one time
     and not apologize
For spilling my guts
     trying to center
Your settled half-emptied glass
When all you needed was a refill.

My heart beats
some manic
American dream

just
like
yours

We just have to go deeper
and not get too
emotionally attached

'cause destiny's a *****
just like the distance

Short-term impulse episodes
of mass enjoyment
vs.
Long-term miracles
of wishful thinking

I'm on that "Be the change you wish to see" ****
or believe long enough to see some strange ****
Truth be told,
it's amazing
how much you don't know
because you're
too scared
to look inside
or ever ask "why"
more than what
you read online

No.

It's always some new notification
an autonomic phantom vibration
of the lost soul

Missing out
on it's missing
piece/peace

That stumbles in tune
to delusions
of
Godlike
tendencies

Gracefully,
all the way
back to the pharmacy

As long as they're prescribing
hope and ambition
This American dream,
I'm sleeping on it.

and thats the thing,
i still love him.
i really do.
i love the way his cologne smells.
the way he fidgets when he gets nervous.
the way his eyes are so, so beautiful.

but, i do not feel the need to
go past your door anymore to catch your
attention.
all i need to do is sit at my lunch table or
hangout with another teacher for you to
magically come in, flustered and handsome,
for you to make a conversation with me.
and thats it, huh?
all i ever needed to do was to
tell you i was happy for you
for you to realize that you need
me in your life as well, just as
much as i need you
in mine.

i can see it in your glances
at church and in the
way you smile at me
when you pass me by or
in the way your voice gets
lower when you
speak to me.

do not hide your love for me,
its highly illogical and all it
does is wear the both of
us out.

sweet dreams darling.

You were the greatest neuronal reorganization to ever happen,
of course I don't know who I am anymore.

What was plastic seems changed to stone in a gargoyle brain and beneath a microscope the shimmering glia spell out your name over and over in little green lights, fossilizing the neurons that say:

Him.

The earth has an edge. Nobody wants to fall off.

So call me Homer, because the gods themselves could not convince me my situation's a sphere there's far too much fear in this flattened plane that understands only primitive desires and just wants you near.

Everyone knows the romanced brain could be mistaken for a ******* addict's.

But perhaps if you look more closely into my eyes you will see my irises have turned stormy, that cyclones of energy are becoming patterns that scribble and scribble arcane suggestions for a new cartography. A new story. A new being.

Supplies needed:
One strong pencil.
Enough oxytocin to unlearn an addiction.

Enough optimism to overcome an affliction, my diction is code for the way you kissed me and it underlines every sentence like the way a voice rises when asking a question.

I have so many questions.

And even though the notion of who I will be when I am not you terrifies me, like Cathy and Heathcliff I will not be doomed to roam the moors, already I know there's endlessly more, and with or without you the best is yet to come. Just as they say. No, I don't know what's in store. But I think that's okay.

Turn golden, Grey Matter, light up 'til you burn.

Reboot.
Restart.
Rewire.

*Relearn.