but
i
can't
breath
without
you
there

why should god care
about the blood you have spilled
they bleed golden ichor
us ... us...
ours is rusting, slow rotting iron

in order to write poetry that doesn't spiral into despair
i must listen to the birds
and in order to listen to the birds
the war planes must be silent

i wish i wrote the way i thought.
obsessively,
uncontrollably,
with maddening hunger,
id write to the point of drowning
id write myself into mental breakdowns    
pages spiralling out like tentacles into the abyss
and id write about you
more then i should

yes,
you will rise from the ashes
but burning comes first

for this part,
darling,
you must be brave

young, corrupted by tragedies of war and exile
alone in spite of himself
boy made of ash and a honey soaked dawn
rust on his hands, in his throat, in his lungs
bright-eyed, rough edges, scraped raw and twisted with time
where is his soft epilogue?

"That's so cute. You think you're scary.
But mister, I've seen scary-
and you ain't got his smile."

He felt his brothers arms around him (a fight, was it, or a brotherly embrace? Either way, it suffocated).

the world should have protected you;
instead, you have been asked to protect it.
what an HONOR
what an INJUSTICE.

If you are so committed to being perfectly lawful
that you would do everything you are told
never thinking for yourself
you're not good, you're obedient.

I did not ask to be this
This hideous creature of crimson soaked skin and snarling voices
But this prison of flesh is the only gift you ever gave me
So I will stretch this skin until I fill every crevice and crack
And I will wear it until you regret that you created it.
You made me a creature to be feared.
So fear me.
-prefect little creation

"you cried wolf,
so i came running.
QUESTION:
am i the wolf or the savior?
is my smile too sharp or just my teeth?
ANSWER:
come a little closer."

Stop looking at me like that,
with pity in your glassy dead eyes.
all I am to you is a tragedy, right?
Stop it.
Stop ******* looking at me like that.
Do you hear me?

I will break you with my bloodstained teeth.

" do not misunderstand me; when I call myself a shell
what i mean is -a used up bullet casing.
As in, the aftermath of something lethal and horrific.
As in, an echo of inflicted evil that seeps into everything ."

"This is an apology
for the things I had to say about us, to get over us.
I feel most like myself
when I am washing crimson blood stains
off my hands in the shower;
and I hope
whatever is eating you alive does it as slowly as possible.
I know it doesn't sound like it,
but this is a love poem,
this is a love poem,  this is a love poem

until it isn't anymore."

unclench your fists, my love, the war is over now.
(i've forgotten how to uncurl my fingers from the trigger.)
be gentle, my love, the war is over now.
(i don't remember what it's like not to have gunsteel in my bones.) come home, my love, the war is over now.
(i'm back at the place i left but home is gone where i cannot find it.) sleep, my love, the war is over now.
(the war follows me into sleep. i'm afraid i'll never leave it behind.) kiss me, my love, the war is over now.
(my fingers still drip red and i do not want to stain you with them.)

teach me how to be at peace again

divinity will stain your fingers and mouth like pomegranate juice.
it will swallow you whole and spit you out,
you will reach for it again and again,
greedy human fingers clutching at everything you can reach.
the divine will curl its way through your veins and take you over,
and it will not leave you quietly.
i feel divinity in my bones like aching; like fire.

I am the end of all things
i have seen the fall of Babylon
i have drunk the blood of kings
I am a GOD

Isn't it funny.
I enjoy my hatred so much more than I ever enjoyed love.
Love is temperamental. Tiring. It makes demands.
Love uses you, changes its mind, and leaves you hurt.
But hatred, now, that's something you can use. Sculpt. Wield.
It's hard, or soft, however you need it.
Love humiliates you, but Hatred, Hatred cradles you.

"You've been writing again."
Yes, I have.
"So, who is behind the pain?"
What do you mean?
"I know you. You only write when you're hurting. When your heart's heavy, your mind full, your soul splintered. Those are the times when your best words
spill on the page. I know this because I've read them, I've felt your words enter my skin, flow through my veins, and embed themselves onto my heart. So tell me, who's behind the beautifully heart breaking poetry this time?"

"you cant love someone unless you love yourself"
*******
I have  never loved myself
but you
oh god, with you i forgot what hating myself felt like

you are not violet
you are not hands filled with morning light
you are not  tears pooled in corners of my eyes
you are not broken coastlines
you are not chipped fingernails

you are rain the soft type
that slowly eases into a catastrophic storm
and causes a typhoon that sinks entire villages
you are the type of rain that trickles into a river before it floods

I did what any rational person would do
I reached up to the sky ever so calmly and tore the stars apart
It rained blood and iron
That clung to the air as thick as glue coating everything in red .
Blood soaked mouths parted to reveal crimson stained teeth.

tell me how the world ended
which time?

- too many times to count

Icarus soared through the sky
Towards his god
Blinded by love
The sun rising painted them in blazing reds, oranges and pinks
He flew into apollos fiery embrace
I can make you immortal
Apollo whispered with sun-soaked lips
How ?
Trust me Apollo whispered
grazing his burning hands along the wings of wax
And Icarus fell, feathers alight in flames
wax tracing burning patterns of hell fire
along his arms and down his back
he plummeted into the seas embrace
the air from his lungs tearing out of is throat
Icarus sinks sight turning to blackness
Now immortalized in tragedy
Remembered forever for loving a god

hero's aren't fearless
hero's are brave
bravery requires fear
fear is born of loving something
loving something so undoubtably
losing it would break you.

that how villain's are made
when a hero loses what they love
there minds break
they have nothing to live for
except revenge

Someone once said rage is still it just sits there this heavy dark thing in front of your eyes making you feel nothing but the hunger beating in your empty chest . So your forced to face it and open your mouth wide to swallow it whole. But rage is a thing with bones and blood and screams that turn into flames, so you chew on it take in all the sharp bitterness that makes your tongue and mouth and words go numb you don’t even know when it reaches your throat because its already in your chest.

I could not find ballads or books
that spoke of the feeling of losing a friend
its not like a tsunami
that crashes into you all at once  
No
its slow like cancer
the kind that doesn't appear for months, years
it’s a stab of pain here and a headache there but manageable
then suddenly it strikes and sinks its teeth deep into you
coils like a snake wrapping around your heart
inside your ribcage
poison seeping into your veins
turning blood to fire
and all you can do is wait.

I have survived far  far to much to go quietly
let a meteor take me call the gods for back up
my death will be grand
the land will  fracture
the seas will roar
the sun will eat it self

what's your drug of choice
hope
not the one that sits in a gilded cage a bird to watch.
no my drug of choice is wild hope
the one that raw bleeding and scarred
an alley cat missing an ear
a sewer rat ridden with fleas
that is hope
and to me it is a drug
the most addicting one of all

she has little innocent demons inside her eyes
they recklessly play with matches.
setting nerves alight
chocking her brain in billow smoke
and yet I’ve never seen sparks so pretty.

The sun is still rising.
It goes up,
even as he goes down.
its not ******* fair
she waits for it to explode.
she waits for it to go out, to burn up to collapse in on itself ,
dying as he does.
but it just rises

veins to young drowning in amber liquid
stashed in duffle bags to pour down throats
bibles pages rolled to form cigarettes
clutched between burnt fingers
throats exposed as smoke pushes of mouths
with scarlet smiles made of red teeth and ****** lips
god gave up on us years ago  
bones bent under a chapel ceiling
ghosts spread inky fingers inside my chest and strum my ribs
nights and days lost in a blacked out haze
god asked to much of them

she's like glass they said

shatters at the smallest touch

crushed into a million tiny shards

she's like glass the said

break her and your the one that bleeds

They say all dreams come true but they forget that nightmares are dreams to

if there was no evil there would be no hero's

if there was no heroes evil would rule

there can be no light without dark

and no dark without light

so take my dog tags and I'll take yours

and if we die in this brutal ****** war

don't tell them we switched

let me buried under your name

and you under mine.

you were destined for glory

the fame and privilage

i was destined for war

to be the gun with no name

-fates been playing the long game with us love

I love you as a drug addict loves a high

I love you as fire loves homes

As tragedy loves innocence

As order loves to sit and watch everthing go wrong

But I fear I love to deeply and far far to much

(Just as Icarus loved the sun before it set his wings ablaze)

I fear I may be Icarus

born loving something much brighter then me

Doomed to burn alive forever

Fire turning anything and everything in its path to ash that is how some say the world will end, others believe it will end in an exquisitely haunting ice age but they are wrong it didn’t end in the world being engulfed by blazing flames and choked by thick billowing smoke clouds, it didn’t end in a ice age that slowly froze the very sea and turned everything to eery sculptures of ice . It ended with the raw devastated scream of grief so heart wrenching that the stars fell one by one into the icy darkness of space. The sky bled; darkness rose where the stars once were erasing lights across the once glowing planet and then the change. Instead of griefs broken voice there is silence. Silence that swallows the world whole, that screams but no sound follows,

I only ever thought there were two types of love,
the kind you’d **** for (till blood coated your arms )
and the kind you’d die for ( gasping their name with your last breath)
but you my love
you were the kind of love
I would live for.

Hope is not a delicate bird.
It doesn’t have colourful feathers or comes.
When you need it most
Hope is a starving rat
An ugly thing
With broken glass claws and yellow pointed teeth
That carries diseases like rebellion, revolution and change
Were ever its tail flicks they drop
It snorts pesticides like coke
It survives in our world
Able to find a way to live were nothing else can.

Icarus flew towards the sun
Not for apollo as the story so suggested, But for his freedom
He smiled with a mouth full of ****** teeth, when his wings began to melt
he laughed as he fell
as the wax slithered down his spine burning patterns into his back
it was addictive, he was drunk on freedom and high on the fresh air
even Dionysius would marvel at his insanity.
maybe it was punishment for trying to escape the gods
melted wax warps his wings till he look like an angel falling from grace
he laughed madly because soon no god would be able to find him
Olympus shivered at the sight
A dying boy with hunger in his eyes and teeth bared to the sky  
Wings on fire stretched wide like a burning angle
When he hit the water, his breath was ripped from his chest
And his lungs once burning with fire, Now drown in the sea
he sinks deeper and deeper
And he laughed silently in the water knowing no god could own him now.