I’m a snowflake falling through night’s mute darkness
landing in the prismatic puddle of gasoline
left by the fumes of your car’s exhaust
collecting on top of the gravelly grime
of an Amazon fulfillment center
where the snow settles but never sticks
in the ascending puddles behind your car.

A sword stuck in its sheath
is used as a cudgel to strike the innocent
until a hardened circle has formed
and an iron grip developed.

A shell stuck in its chamber
fires unexpectedly
avoiding suitable targets
and striking unintended victims.

A missile launches from its silo
without a target
going straight into space
never looking at the striking planet left behind.

You’re gone and not here
by God that was my worst fear
as I sob my heart hurts the worst here
worse than anything since my birth year.

They say you had a good run
they say you had good fun
I want to buy a good gun
to **** someone for saying something so dumb
I guess it’s better than saying so what
but this pain is driving me nuts
but it’s all I have left of a tie that was severed
all these moments I remember
are my ties to the nether
at least I was telling the truth
when I said our ties would last forever.

The weather is foggy
because the bog bleeds
like my problems lofty
making things foggy.
These problems haunt me
when the forecast is foggy.
I start to become not me
after my reflection lost me
in this hellish hot spring
where the fog is accosting
my vision’s focus and locking
until I absolutely cannot see
through this mist so foggy
my brain gets groggy
with the pain I’m dodging
blasting through the fog feed
making this innocent dog bleed
under the leaves of God’s tree
the same tree that made God leave
where an apple made things foggy.

I'm sorry to say
Things didn't go your way
Chalk it up as dues to pay
Just please don't lose your faith
You must wrestle sin
Don't let it in
Or let it win
Or you'll get grim
On a lonely limb

Despite a deluge of hope
You yell lose and nope
You can't use a joke
Singing the blues to cope
24/7
You feel threatened
Before I finish my sentence
So our contact is lessened
Because your empathy deafened
Always puts me in second

You become negative
Ignoring relatives
You have hell to give
In the cell you live
Where it's dark
And barren
Bitterness is stark
And apparent

You expect me to save you
From what Satan gave you
But he's totally enslaved you
You need Jesus to bathe you
Because I see the same you
And will always blame you
Using a shame tool
To change fools

I hate to slice ties
But in your eyes belies
A sinister surprise
That'll bring my demise
That's sitting on ice
Precariously waiting to melt
To release your anger
So before any damage is dealt
I turn into a stranger

An arctic fire
Scorches the Earth
Into an entire
Frozen turf
Of no worth
Only hurt
Where death and decay
Are here to stay
In winter’s way
To my grave

The leaves are dead
Like the teens *****
Who went to bed
And woke up led
To their reluctant stead

The branches are bare
Like the love I share
With those who dare
Return my stare
Of frozen care

My friends are chill
Once they take a pill
And let the ice build
Until a giant ice hill
Freezes their light will
Seeing life as time to ****
Their shifty shoes I fill

This winter has shown
That I don’t have a home
And if I want to be known
I have to build a new phone
Or get bombed by a drone
So I stay in my zone
Of an arctic cone

I was once warm
In proper form
Until I grew horns
Like icy thorns
And my icicles
Are quite fickle
Their knife sickles
Until blood trickles
On my frigid path
Of winter’s wrath

I’m freezing to death
Until there’s nothing left
Except a societal debt
Of a temperature set
That was never met

When I’m feeling my highest
I want to take all your pain away
and when I’m at my lowest
I want you to take all my pain away.

All that pain we take from each other
is worth the time we spend in the middle.

All I see are demons
in this apocalyptic season
when everyone with a grievance
pledges allegiance
to those in agreement
of fear of the opposition
deserving paranoid treatment
for a thing called collision.

I live in fear of their numbers
I fear the heights of their hunger
I fear they'll eternalize my slumber
not wanting to go under
I sit there and wonder
how to tear asunder
nightmarish hunters.

This thunderstick granted to me
for my John Wick fantasy
lays in my hands handily
fingers hugging the trigger
ignoring the touch of skin
it makes me feel bigger
than playing the violin.

I need guns because the other side has them
trading players like they're Udonis Haslem
feeling like the metallic version of Aslan
because of the armament in my safe
connecting me to my venom
protecting me from the other's ways
with a second **** in my denim.

I'm afraid of the angry mob
to which I've globbed on
pitchforks in hand
fingers hugging the trigger
of supply and demand
the rich get richer.

It's a time to be outside
so I open the door
but can't believe my eyes
seeing an insect horde.

I should be able to enjoy the day
without perking their antennas
so I foolishly say I should stay
as the world becomes Gehenna.

The bugs tell me to keep it moving
by making me itch
they say it would behoove me
to be rich.

They crawl on the ground
and fly in the air
they make annoying sounds
and get in my hair.

So I ask the nicest of neighbors
if they have a solid solution
but the bugs got them belabored
so they only suggest pollution.

This world is too itchy
like a thick sweater
that I always keep with me
through scorching weather.

There are millions like me
who can't stand the discomfort
making it all the more frightening
when their bodies are discovered.

The gnashing proboscis
of a million mosquitoes
might eventually cost us
the skin of our heroes.

Why is God killing me
So willingly?
He’s filling me
With a ***** disease
Brought by biting fleas
Who do as they please
Until I’m on my knees
Begging for release

Sneezing wheezing
My phlegm is breezing
Through air that’s freezing
Trying to teach me
To act more pleasing
Can I kick this sickness
Brought by wickedness?
Or will it punch me
Into lunch meat?

To be in His vicinity
Is to have divinity
So why does He get rid of me?
Could it be the viscosity
Of all my atrocities?
Or the viciousness
Of my wishes wished?
Or my visceral
Scissor hold
On growing old?
Despite my reverence
I fear his benevolence
Involves my severance

The difference between dying and trying
Has me in bed crying
Fever frying
Medicine buying
From salesmen lying
Saying add pills
Of Advil
And mad will
To not be ill
My plague remains still
On Sisyphus’ hill

Can God cure me
Of this absurdity?
Almost certainly
But by hurting me
I learn to see
He uses pain to teach
The one thing that’ll reach
Through the ******* I preach

My gut round
Shuts down
Lust found
That must drown
In a dust cloud
Of an allergic assault
To an absurdist result
Of catching a cold
To examine my soul

He gives a heart attack
To the heart I lack
As part of the pack
Ignoring God’s path
And finding His wrath
Once He chooses me
To lose and bleed
The flu He feeds
To pull the weeds
That ghouls breed

So cough medication selection
Becomes a time for self reflection
At least until my health inspection
Shows no feverish detections
Of the feeblest direction
When the evilest infection
Is joining Satan’s section

Pain is the payment we pay
to do anything worth doing

Circum-
navigating
this frost pit
I consult a locksmith
who’s actually toxic.

Apothecary land-
mines can confine
My carcass kind.

I reach into the abyss
and I’m handed pills.
I sense something’s amiss
once they remove my will.

During the winter weeks
everything looks bleak
so I can hardly speak
looking to out-sleep
this subzero streak
of record lows
and checkered toes
from blizzard blows
the geese all go
but I stall froze
in this tundra tunnel
where the water breaks
must be signs of the shovel
and all it takes
to obfuscate
my massive lake's
frozen fate
and the cozen gate
for that chosen date.

I need to erase these bland hues
for leaves to sprout brand new
to brighten my ****** view
like I'm living in Cancun
chilling at Chichen Itza
chowing on chicken pizza
staring at the colorful sky
under which I never hide
but those are just colors in my mind
looking at the bleakness and the grime
I'm weakened by this time
I need to stay alive
to see the days get wide
and colors collide
releasing me from the darkness fog
so I won't be a heartless sod
after people start to dodge
my evil dark flaws.

Once the clouds split
they'll give me a gift
removing the ****
that makes me slip
on the ice all around me
covering the water in which I'm drowning
when my virulent vision starts browning
erasing positive colors and mentality.

This world will be less neutral
after my diffused old
infused soul
find renewal
in the sun's jewels
creating more vibrant colors
than the winter's covers
of black and white
with lack of light
and saddened sight
to mask what's right.

Once the sun brings back the day
I'll put down my gun and come out to play
but life isn't fun living this way.

I live in a trailer I work in a trailer
commuting to work trailing
trailers making me late
so I'm given a trailer for trailers
and stew in my hate
packed with trailers packing trailers
under trailers who think they're jailers.

If I could meet the tailor of these trailers
I'd regale Her with all of their failures
and how they're like Vlad the Impaler
but there are no saviors only slavers
telling me I can hit the trail
and give up my trailer.

Just because you’re oblivious to something
doesn’t mean you’re above it.

I like getting freaky
I like getting weird
I like getting *****
With your spear
But I fear
The deviation here
Will eventually steer
Me out of your sphere

I say we need to spice things up
You ask “Isn’t our life enough?”
I wish you wouldn’t call my bluff
And just get into freakier stuff

After enough deviation
There’s no reconciliation
Between our needy nations
I look for a feeding station
While I’m bleeding relation
For fleeting elation

I become attracted to what’s different
Unfortunately you will always be you
So I become insistent
On ******* every animal in this zoo

One at a time doesn’t suffice
I join threesomes and foursomes
The ****** only get more dumb
Making me lose my consortium
Because of my sore thumb
Shooting a ***** gun
Every time I score numb

There’s nothing wrong with being a deviant
But that’s just one of the ingredients
It’s unhealthy to keep feeding it
Until you think *** is meaningless
The only reason you’re believing this
Is because you’re treating bliss
Like a hedonist

I’m making an honest living
Everything else I’m giving
To keep the world spinning
Yet I feel I’m not winning
As others pass me
Thinking they’re classy
Their weapons blast me
Causing pain everlasting

They’re like crack addicts
With attack tactics
Viciousness attracted
Their violence didactic
They can’t spare the rock
In this paradox
Where they care for stocks
And selling glocks

Farmer
Meets charmer
A disguised harmer
Dressed in social armor
With wealth they flex
For wealth is success
Wealth can undress
****** impressed

Materialism strangles
With salesman angles
The consumer tangled
Becomes helplessly mangled
Looking to turn the tables
I cut my social cables
A cutthroat mentality enabled
Only financially am I stable

A ******
Hunts me
Grunting
Bluntly
About getting his dues
Through cut and bruise
Controlling the news
So I know I’ll lose

The social anxiety
Inside of me
Pirating
The life of me
From the strife I see
Makes acting righteously
Seem like goodnight for me

To avoid being a fool
I play by their rules
By acting cruel
To win this duel
Of fatal competition
That Satan envisioned
For our moral dereliction
From our paper prescription

With no self esteem
I join a selfish team
With a hellish dream
Believing genocide cleans
I’m always conforming
To not be a minority
But a thorn in me
Says I’m *******

I’m perched in the mist
Of being purposeless
So ******* purchases
Drown my worthlessness
When my heart is dying
Yet I must keep producing
I think that I’m trying
Which is quite amusing
After demon fusing
I can’t see I’m losing

I’ve morphed from a hoper
Into an interloper
Who’s splintered poker
Becomes society’s choker

My brother and I explored a ravine
in our younger years. A wooded
labyrinth where the auburn
mist of fallen leaves
covered the floor
like a Burmese
tiger pit.

My brother
and I discovered
a lake, which became
a creek, which became
a swamp. I must've found
something exciting, because
I began sprinting homeward in a
juvenile fervor. Penetrating the
leafy shroud with my eager
feet. Unaware of traps
set subtly for those
tramping  through
the wilderness.

A nail,
I stepped
on a nail in my
recklessness. My
tennis shoe armor proved
futile against the steel weaponry.
Completely exposing my vulnerable
sole, the spiked interloper sank
its lone fang into me. The
pain shot through my
foot until ambulatory
abilities all but
vanished.

I didn't watch
where I was stepping
and landed on an inadvertent
weapon.
I should've
known the pollution of man
would stab me in my
outstretched hand.

A lesson was
learned about
paranoia and why
it exists. Even if I watch
where I'm going, polluters
will slit my wrists until the findings
of the swamp are forgotten in favor of scars.

All of the aggressive goats fight
To determine the king of the hill
But once rain starts pouring
They seek shelter together
Leaving the victor in the rain

I used to see cars individually
not as parts but the people inside
those people would be driving around me
and we’d wave to each other
while navigating clear roads
I would recognize their car
out of familiarity
the city has grown since then
I don’t recognize cars anymore
just brands and colors
creating the traffic jam in front of me
as my engine overheats.

Yemen is a floating failed state spinning in the maelstrom
of flu, COVID, diphtheria, and cholera on one side
and the US backed Saudi coalition on the other.

They float there
like an abandoned oil tanker
floating off the coast in the Red Sea
threatening to spill 1,000,000 barrels of crude oil
until entirety turns black—
a sticky substance that’s hard to clean off.

It floats there as a deterrent—a ***** bomb
Houthis hold hostage future generations
with an IED that will injure all of our children—
why have Houthis weaponized the destruction of our planet?
Could it be that we’ve taken their world from them?

The people drop
like a bomb from the sky
in the Shada area of the Saada province.

The country explodes
like a car of 13 Houthis—4 children—
sending shrapnel to every corner of the Earth.

How many children is a terrorist’s life worth?
Keep in mind terrorists could hurt children
or those children could grow up to be terrorists
or a defense contractor could go out of business
so what’s the price of a child relative to those scenarios?

21,000 airstrikes in 5 years
5 years to do the math
every time we try to solve the equation
the answer comes out negative.

You’re a disembodied voice
only appearing in mirrors
like the Candyman.
Sometimes I look into the mirror
and say your name three times
then finish jerking off.

I stick with what I know
Refusing to grow
Until I’m losing the show
With nowhere to go
I become part of the flow
Of an abandoned road

Staying in my lane
Playing video games
I’m becoming lame
With thoughts so tame
Ignoring doubtful shame
And bouts with pain
To preserve my brain
From harsh stains
So when I’m social
I am only hopeful
They don’t see I have no soul

To reach the top of that hill
I need to develop the will
To acquire a new skill
That’ll leave me fulfilled
And not on pills
But on playbills
That pay bills
Where the bay spills

But learning language
Brings me anguish
The stench of my French
Puts me on the bench
And I’m speaking German
Like I’m inside a Sherman
So I give up sounding like Napoleon
And go try out the accordion

But my focus on instrumentation
Only causes further insulation
When it doesn’t give placation
Requiring practice and inspiration
Yet I can’t tell the difference between a piano and a dynamo
But I guess I wasn’t really trying though
What I’m doing is more like dying slow
Parked in the snow
With nowhere to go

I have no patience
Nor discipline
I crave safeness
And indifference
For living with ease
Is my domestic disease
Drowning on my knees
Until I’m not interesting
In this interest sea
Where I float free
But don’t see

I say it’s all been done before
So why should I do any more?
Those before me got to score
And then closed the door
To the convenience store
They created a mangled mold
Out of their stranglehold
On the angles sold
But my blame grows old
As my claims are told
And my peers are polled
Concluding I’m not bold
After becoming cold

After a head start
I wait for a spark
Alone in the dark
With no real heart
Expecting my part
To fall in my lap
And people to clap
While I can’t do a thing
I can’t dance or sing
My hands I wring
Scheming ways to be king
Without pulling the strings
And never committing
It’ll be here I’m sitting

It’s clear to see the disarray
like a raccoon wandering during the day
in the wandering fray
its wandering may
lead it astray
that’s the way
wandering days
sunder our stay
every second a blade
cutting into our DNA
we speak to say
words before our grave
that fall on deaf ears
until we only see death here
and look for someone to rest near
after we’ve extinguished our best years
for a disarray distraction
and repeat this action
in coupled factions
to face the disarray
together more brave
drawn by attraction
we call the spayed a *****
no more attention paid
underneath the waves
we need others to wade
so some of us are just here
wandering the disarray sphere
not playing with peers
facing fears
alone
go home
nobody is there
life isn’t fair
and some must resort to stares.

I feel the best score for an IQ test
Is to not take it
We can’t measure the full extent of our mentality
And intelligence exists in a situational capacity anyway
So plenty of people with high IQs seem idiotic to me
Because they need to tell me their IQ
Rather than show me through conversation
Can you say you have intelligence
If it can’t be effectively communicated?
What good is it to me then?
Oftentimes they lack emotional or social intelligence
So what the **** are we measuring?
Spatial awareness? Cognition? Retention?
What makes that more important than empathy or charisma?
Can you make me feel better after I make a mistake?
Can you tell me I’m wrong in a suitable manner?
Or would you just educate me?
Letting me know I’m stupid compared to you
After you took that one test
And now you’re smart for life
That seems really stupid to me

Some people claim they speak with God
Others will try to tell them that’s just their intuition
But I think they’re both right

My very worst nightmare
Is of me staying asleep
Sword stuck in the sheath

In the jungle monkeys look for a leader
He doesn’t need to be the best reader
He just needs to be a chest beater
Showing he’ll be a pest eater

An ape emerges from the crowd
Beating its breast
Proving it’s proud
Being the best
Is about being loud
So at its behest
The other apes bow

The lion has fallen asleep
So the ape stole its sheep
And its throne to keep
A mouth of foam to eat
Leading the rabid elite
With trampling feet
And fists that beat

His sharpened fangs
Above the breast he bangs
Cause excruciating pangs
Of torturous pain
In the forest that rains
He controls the brains
Of apes filled with blame
Creating an invasive game
That is their species’ shame

Monkeys think this knuckle dragger
Is more like Uncle Kracker
So they tumble after
His jungle laughter
As he hoards the bananas
Inside his comfy cabana
In a far off savanna

Can’t they see he’s escaping
To his savanna’s safety
After constantly taking
And rainforest ******?
They’re too busy flinging ****
To quietly sit
And examine his wit

Once things aren’t optimal
He avoids the topical
Where it’s sunny and tropical
But a heavy monsoon
Will be brought by God soon
To wipe out the barbaric baboon
And all of his goliath goons
Who are like ****** in the spoon
They’re boiled then used
To pacify the abused
Then filling their shoes

The monkeys’ malevolent master
Couldn’t be replaced any faster
Once every day turned into disaster
But the sour grapes
Dour ape
Escaped
Not an hour late
He ate the power plate
By building a tower of hate
And a coward’s gate
Sealing our fate
Of a jungle state

Click here now
Puppy dog chow
Click here now
Thought disallowed
Click here now
To be part of the crowd

The buyer’s locked
In a liar’s box
On Firefox
In only socks

Click here now
Boom Boom Pow
Click here now
For music that’s loud
Click here now
For soothing sounds

Listen to your peers
Receiving cheers
While you stay here
With a computer near

Click here now
Look what I found
Click here now
**** singles around
Click here now
To be gagged and bound

Open your browser
And act like Bowser
Buy a Mauser
Or trendy trousers

Click here now
I’ll make you say wow
Click here now
I’ll show you how
Click here now
To slowly drown

Ignore your tasks
And buy a flask
Tell your past
Or buy a mask

I keep clicking
Like the gun to my head
Finger flicking
Laying in bed

I'm haunted by a ghost
who won't text back
I need it the most
but it only gives black
this ghost from a heart attack
leads me down a disheartened track
of perilous cracks
so I can't relax.

Your Danny Phantom
threw our new tandem
off like Drew Stanton
giving me a true tantrum
tramping to the netherworld
to find a bed of pearls
instead of twirls
in dead end whirls.

I stare at people talking
in my mind I'm throwing ****
sounds like the gun cocking
right before the trigger flick
killing me quick
in a ghost's grip
instilling gross and sick
voices telling me to quit.

I want to go to the astral world
to be in your presence
I want to be your astro girl
then extinguish your essence
to get my revenge
after getting incensed
from the haunting intense
of a ghost with malicious intent.

Your apparition isn't an aberration
plenty have seen the line of demarcation
between relationship adjacent
and my next replacement
so I hide in my basement
people wonder where my face went
a ghost set it to its blank placement
to cover up the rank grave scent.

The spirits of the undead
notice that I'm unfed
repeating that I'm *****
until I've done bled
they cackle with triumph
after I've run
for someone
to see the sun.

So go chill on your ghost ship
with your ghost clique
whose locust lips
give you focused hips
just stop haunting me
I view recovery dauntingly
because for a while I've got to see
every person as wild ghosts mocking me.

Should a poet consider
what their work looks like in portrait mode
and adjust their lineation accordingly?
Or should the responsibility be on the reader to use landscape mode?

Ostracization
Contamination
Through my deflation
I find devastation
On the devil’s station
Of severed relations

My misfit
******
Sin bit
Prison stint
Reminisced
Of my bliss
Without a kiss
So I eat a dish
Of a returning wish
But I’m a burning witch
Who’s yearning to switch
From learning I’m glitched

I received
A receipt
Of deceit
By elite
Petite
Feet
That stepped on
My weapon
Of inspection
Due to detections
Defused by erections

The jaded
Invaded
And waited
To be hated
So I’d be baited
And mentalities traded

Pickaxe
Sick facts
Impact
My tact
As I react
To the flak
I use to attack
Coming back
On my track
Turning black

How do I deal with their negativity?
Is it really just a matter of relativity?
Must I have my relatives killing me
Before the hatred filling me
Is justified?
Why must I cry
When only dust resides
In my desolate insides?

The heartless devastate
Making me separate
Into a mental state
Completely innate
An unseemly inmate
Of the tumultuous strait
Between finding a date
And the bitter fate
Dinner plate
Sinners make

This challenge leaves me petrified
Possibly electrified
From their pesticide
That infects inside
Until I elect to hide
And convince myself I don’t care
My mental health I won’t share
I’ll just scream no fair
Flailing arms in the air
I will not have been spared
By this devastating nightmare

I want you to know how I feel
but my words don't reach the extent necessary
to let you know what is real
that I want to be your emissary
but I act so wary
like an actuary
with a knack for staring
judging passing cherries
as cassowaries.

My frustration grinds through a mouthful of teeth
because of the fountain of heat
that lies beneath
my sword in sheath
melting through its protection
bleeding from the rejection
of your outward inflection
thwarting this coward's intentions.

I miss you but I don't even know you
I want to kiss you and hold you
but the issue to that bold move
is that I don't know if it'd go through
like Father Time's sand
passing through my hands
******* I'm an old man
from your cold canned gold jam
I'm sold bland then soul slammed
by Conan
The Barbarian
in my solarium
solitary terrarium
where nary a sum
equals more than one.

I’m moving through glue
Of life without you
In an adhesive zoo
Giving avian flu
So I can’t move
In this groove
Where I lose
To my muse

At your beck and call
My engine stalled
So I walk this hall
Free-for-all

Walking home
Is walking alone
Destination unknown
I’m a walking drone

I find a new car
But cannot go far
Once the oily tar
Creates prison bars

Cars have slammed
Causing traffic jams
Like the trap of man
Living hand in hand

Double barrel lies
Have me paralyzed
Scared to try
A stare at eyes

Satan’s will
Has my body still
Anxiety filled
Looking for a pill

The enemy
Is sending me
Messaging
Threatening

The once unbridled
Now sit idle
Using their title
To stop others’ vitals

This quicksand
Kicks the ******
Sickest man
So he can’t stand

Tires flattened
In sheets of satin
They start to fatten
Into General Patton
On a treadmill
Death hill
Where pests ****
My best skills

No detour
On this meat skewer
Where the elite lure
Those who are bluer
To be their bruiser

I find no leeway
On the freeway
Where speed craze
Gets greed praise
So the meek stay
In concede lanes

The gun toting
Fascist voting
Authority doting
Have me floating
When I should be boating

I challenge the world to a fight
And lose to my first opponent
Pathetically crying all night
I thought heart was a stronger component

I can’t stand minds
Of land mines
That span my
Whole **** life
The things I know
Create traffic cones
So I have nowhere to go
But low

I defy the slide
Stuck in the divide
I don’t want to glide
But commit suicide

The liars grinning
At my tires spinning
Increase their sinning
Once they know they’re winning

Dragons fly
In the sky
Passing by
My passive life
They look down on me
Their talons I flee
But fire they breathe
Scorching me deep

I once had you
Now I have them
I’m stuck in glue
That is their phlegm

Diamonds and gold coast to coast
oil in the middle
Africa is a **** sandwich
held by mineral encrusted bread
chewed on by capitalists for centuries
who’ve choked on the arid taste before
only to come back for seconds
feeding on scraps and leftovers
using people as napkins to clean their mess
but recently their teeth have started to crack
as globalization creates visibility
the world witnesses the devouring
yet enough people are willing to let them eat
and unwilling to look beyond their **** eating grins.

Kindred transformation
correlates experience
to my canidae companion
life is a pit bull husky mix
loyal roamer fierce friend
running through thorn bushes
in the hushed hilly countryside
unaware of speeding cars
and demonic dog catchers
populating the arachnid cityscape.

I chase a rabbit to said city
keeping my dog head with me
so I can only see in black and white
a transformative color palette
allowing an allowance for my breed
to take the maximum instead of its needs.
A dastardly deal is done in daylight
for spiders to be dogs
and dogs, spiders
splitting spoils
of both species syndicating society
by painfully punishing unfamiliar families.

Four legged frenzy in my feet fortifies me
from eight legged monsters in the street
slinging webs of concrete—
a wanderer's kennel terrifying terrarium
trapping wasps and butterflies
masticating maliciously
reproducing rapidly
trap door spiders create black widows
and envelope stray dogs in white cloaks.

My vigilance guides serpentine movement
strafing from treacherous entanglement
of the tarantula treaty offering silk
cocoons claimed to be for safety
at the price of my mobility.

I must return to the warm
glow that helps me see
even if that means
crawling through the sewers
and eating from the trash
to emerge from the thorn bushes
that tear off my jackal costume
as the sun cleanses my wounds
uncovering cloud counting capability
accumulating cumulus compatriots
and oak marchers waving green flags
showing they can prosper with tranquility
but these flags draw insects that eat contentedly
until there's enough ingesting in sects to draw spiders.

Scientists made a discovery fundamentalists don't consider great
The universe expands and contracts at the exact same rate
So we live the exact same fate
In an infinite state

The white light at your death and birth
Are one and the same
So with the rhythmic rotations of Earth
We play a counterclockwise game
Of repeating in vain
This wondrous maze

The theologians needed a recovery
From this revelatory discovery
So they formulated an alternate reading
To the biblical teachings
To continue preaching
And lost soul reaching

They say Jesus is the equality of man
And God is the impact of love on this land
Satan is the other side of love's demand
Guiding hatred's hand

So to hear God
Is love's nod
And ****
To bond
While to properly follow Jesus
Is to forgive those who beat us
For they'll be a fetus
Once the future leaves us

Heaven is the state of being in love
So when your soul floats above
You'll return to the one
Who fills you with fun
But you must live righteously
Rather than divisively
To plant the seed
Of immortal glee

Babies go to purgatory
Being murdered for the
Infinite story
Unfortunately

David is aggression
Judas is regression
Hell is the oppression
Of living in depression
With no one for confession
Private problems become obsessions
Forever learning painful lessons

The apple of knowledge
Is the invention of college
For the intellectual solace
We're insignificant mollusks

The theologians surmise
Our demise
Will be from our loss of faith
Which will bring a dark weight
To those with unclean fates
Filled with hate
Repeating slates
The theologians plead
To join their pious breed
To avoid endless punctures
And gain godlike structure
For living an examined life
In the land of strife
They can plan the fight
To get you through nights

They say the Bible uses fiction
To convey truth
To cure our addiction
Of being uncouth
And the deformed
Should be warned
That those unmoved
Will live in a tomb
Of eternal doom

On a garden tree of hardened leaves
slithers a centipede anemone
claiming to be a friend of me
sprouting wings splendidly
flying to the Nth degree ahead of me
until I can no longer see
where the wronger flee
behind a Chris Pronger screen
giving me the stronger steam
to bomb the seed.

I stood outside smoking a cigarette
thinking of all the politicians I resent
I got light headed and hit the cement
and found pain possible to prevent.

My dead weight fell on my arm
jamming my paralyzed fingers
doing my innate shoulder harm
the pain in my elbow still lingers.

You said I should stop smoking
I said I should stop steaming
but it's my only way of coping
with the things that I'm dreaming
drawn from these things that I'm gleaming
from the top of a tower that's leaning
I see a tiresome war beneath me
and fall on my arm obliquely.

Sometimes I think about going back to ******
but always end up realizing I can’t
because that world would break me once more
because I’m too soft
I guess everyone is too soft
especially when they start using
many think they’ll be a bulb of light
illuminating a dim and darkened room
until the deader bulbs take advantage
draining the once bright bulbs
until they’re fragile shells.

There was a glorious mix
In 2006
When King Xerxes started ******* with Gerard Butler
By sending his empire’s army
Until that one dude threw a spear like Jay Cutler
Xerxes cheek he was harming

You want land and water? You better stop talking ****
Before Gerard Butler kicks you down the big *** pit
That’s in the middle of our city with no hand rails
Because we believe that caution is where man fails

Gerard Butler will beat all the *****
Of the Persian masses
In a narrow passage

They needed help
To protect themself
The Arcadians are total *******
But they make a fine mess of things
So they caught the immortals looking
For a Spartan death sting

There’s an obese guy with swords for arms
He doesn’t mean anything to the plot
His fellow soldiers are the only ones he harms
He’s just an interesting thought

Gerard Butler wouldn’t let that ugly ****** in his squad
Because he was so flawed
So he pulled a lever and his ties were severed
So the Persians would be better
May that ******* live forever

They proved a god king could bleed
And screenwriters don’t history read
Because that **** is for Athenians
Who like to focus on dreaminess
And not being badass
Or wearing dope masks

So thank you Zack Snyder
After blunt met black lighter
My eyes got smacked wider
In a land where abs are tighter

Burdened hands
with bird in hand
burn in demand
to burgeon man
he lays still
reading the playbill
drinking his DayQuill
unable to change will
burdened hands crave ****
burdened mind shame filled
burdened time grave hill
burdensome brains spill.

I need to express myself
For my mental health
Not to melt
But I don’t make art
Because it’s torn apart
Like a bleeding heart
Eaten by seething sharks

In a match of the friendless
Versus the defenseless
It’s the pretentious
Who condescend us

They hit all
The pitfalls
With wit small
But sit tall
Behind thick walls
Of vitriol

They see examining art
As a way to prove they’re smart
By blindly rejecting what others like
And enjoying the obscure
As if being different makes them right
Which is obviously absurd

On a plane where opinion
Is treated as fact
They claim dominion
Over the artistic track
By shooting black flak
Until I angrily react
And flies I attract

You might take the angle
I think everyone is painful
I’m not saying there aren’t angels
But there are definitely demons
With no explainable definite reasons
Why they call some artists heathens
Based on the nonsense they believe in

Pretension and ignorance
Have a large difference
But both are carnivorous
Most of their comments
Aren’t very honest
Nor are they modest
They just burn the hottest

Their judgment stuck
On calling everything putrid
The best filmmakers ****
The best musicians are stupid
They can hardly be called lucid
Trying to be the negative Confucius

Their hate reaping
Gatekeeping
Breaks peeking
Artists seeking
One day reaching
Public preaching

I start to withdraw
Once they’re near
My heart won’t unthaw
Frozen in fear
The crowd is suggestible and fickle
So one negative trickle
Causes an avalanche of icicles
Knocking me off life’s bicycle

They discourage people from putting themselves out there
As they turn culture into a doubt fair
Only producing shout air
To reroute stares
Away from emotional expression
And toward themselves
With their rhetorical aggression
They put us in hell

Through the trees
I hear the screams
From killing sprees
Where critters feed
And their prey bleeds
In dire need
Of a savior steed
To come running from the hills
But all I see are landfills
Made from man’s will
In this selfish standstill
Trying to band bills
For canned thrills

I hear the screams of animals
They can’t be examined though
I must deal with cannibals
That are shooting cannonballs
While the innocence of man falls
And only the vicious stand tall
In the forests and town halls
The killers control it all

I must watch my own back
For a predatory attack
So I run through the forest
Staying on my own track
Until I’ve become the sorest
Making my vision black
So I join the vicious pack
Of wolves that eviscerate
Less fortunate creatures
Accepting my vicious fate
In this dismal feature

The animals I had to defeat
Now hang from my teeth
Like a sword in its sheath
Their life I deplete
For a night’s sleep
Of the mighty elite
By joining the feet
That trample and beat

I’m an evil force
Until I see the horse
That’ll change the course
Advising us to avoid the source
Of that which causes pain
Yet that’s my vicious game
So I feel the richest shame
But I’m ignored all the same
Yearning for fields of grain
Growing outside of my lane
Nourishing the timid and tame
Who I convinced myself were lame
Who’ve now broken the chains
Of hell’s flames

I drew from the vicious well
Now I live in a parallel
Spare hell
Blocking the stairwell
To the place the mare sells
Of refreshing fair smells
Instead of the death in this abyss
I should’ve uncurled my fist
To make the steed’s list
So I might’ve found bliss
Now I must fulfill my wish
Of viciousness

When the cold rain enters
it makes me remember
lifetimes of past Decembers
and their nasty embers.
Each drop a designer
momentary reminder
of a recreational resigner's
unchecked timer.
I am not reborn
in the rain's misty scorn
I see Satan's horns
in rain clouds formed.

Sensory recall
makes me fall
into the needle
of a lifestyle fetal
crying for my mommy
of a ****** haunting
my past life is flaunting
through raindrops upon me
their ripples are bombing
my mentality modeling
of the unguarded godly.

Inclement
in descent
in cement
mixed with saline
so I may dream
maiming Maybelline
makes me made to scream
drowning in memory
separating what's ahead of me
with the possible death of me
after a moment of leveling
water brings devil's wings.

I guess I'm like this forever
mainlined or severed
would've been much better
than stuck in the nether
between order and chaos
mortars of raindrops
show where my aim lost
and the insane cost
of the water in the syringe
raining into my veins
so I cry and I cringe
when it rains all the same.

Suspicion runs rampant
No trust can be found
Even when lies are recanted
To their nature we’re bound
Releasing the hounds
Silencing sounds
Of victims drowned

Suspicion exacerbation
From false accusations
Causing ****** lacerations
Through spatial relations
Like shared incarceration
Or the local fascination
With public *******
Or child molestation

There are horrible people out there
They lack moral fiber
They do the wrong thing consistently
So in order to feel dignity
They develop extreme compartments of honor
And search so hard for instances to use it
It often comes out at inappropriate moments
And is used as an opportunity to signal masculinity
Imagine the person constantly yelling
“No one talks **** about my family/religion/country”
Then flies off the handle at the slightest perceived insult
This person may care about what they’re defending
But their defense is about themselves
And how badass and imposing they are

Conclusion jumping
Hatred pumping
******* lumping
The convicted with the accused
So with that flawed logic used
They decide to mercilessly bruise
Somebody a liar happened to choose

Why do people not always believe victims of crime?
The existence of liars
Who taint society with their dishonesty
Yet will never have to face their own impact
By apologizing to a survivor no one believes
For it is their kind
Manipulating minds
Turning men blind
Until trust is resigned

The liars mix with buyers
Lighting the world on fire
Creating an awful empire
Where the innocent are *****
And the innocent are slaughtered
I don’t know much more I can take
When no one seems bothered

I don’t have any answers
If we make penalties harsher on liars
We could discourage actual victims
But the injustice victims of false accusations deal with
Fills my heart with immense anger and frustration
People have no faith in our flawed justice system
So they look inside their own incapable minds
Deeming themselves the arbiters of justice
Too stupid to understand their lack of moral authority
That savage nature is reflected in the punishment they inflict
Innocent people die in a dark and lonely cell
While the rest of us must live in this deceitful hell
Where our minds are infected by hatred’s smell
We must pull love up from the spiritual well
To shield us from the ceaseless church bells

Those who lie
Mix with grime
Taking time
Deciding who dies
Innocent cries
Muted by guys
Smart as flies
That hatefully wait
For someone to mutilate
So they can prove they’re great
We must grow before it’s too late
And begin living in an empathetic state

The bass player for Korn
Reginald “Fieldy” Arvizu
Plays in a distinctive style
Using the slap bass technique
By down tuning the bass guitar
To the point where there is enough slack in the strings
That they hit the fretboard while playing
Slapping the bass
He also increases the treble significantly
Accentuating a recurring clicking sound throughout their recordings
Some people view this positively
I feel it gives the music more texture
Like putting a little pepper on the song
But some hate it
They say it makes Korn’s music unenjoyable
And annoying
A little clicking noise
Makes their music instantly horrible

For some people it’s never good enough
They will always be listening for your small clicking noises
And demand you change at their whim
Ordering you to tighten your strings until they snap
They say Fieldy *****
They say Fieldy is a ****** bassist
While never putting out any content themselves
So they can throw rocks from the dark
Forcing one to ask themself
Who am I making this art for?
The fickle and ignorant masses
Or the jaded and pretentious elitists?
The answer must be neither
Art must be made for the self
With the hope that others will be able to relate
And whatever your craft is
Some people will appreciate the hard work and dedication
And some people will hear a small clicking sound
You just have to slap their face
With the way you slap your bass

Constantly confounded
monsters have mounted
problems I've counted
groveling grounded.

The constant confusion
from deficit delusions
create definite illusions
of excrement infusion.

The continuous questioning
can be quite deafening
lessening
the best of me.

I use a thought shield
so I cannot feel
like the locked steel
of stopped wheels.

F in the chat
for the death in my hat
I'm left with a lack
of discerning tact.

I'm living a lie
by not living with why
but idiot I
just sits down and cries.

I haplessly hope for a lucky guess
to get me out of this ******* mess
but I haven't seen nothing yet
except my own lonely death.

A naive missionary
Trying to be visionary
Did something real scary
He went to North Sentinel Island
A place inhabited by lost savages
And now nobody can find him
Because they violently ravaged him

He had visions of healing
And also God revealing
He was worth revering
After the savages hearing
His apocryphal cheering
Would stop their spearing
Causing societal endearing

But he arrived on the shore
For a one sided war
Of blood and gore
Until he was no more
This man of God
Saw man as flawed
And looked for applause
By teaching glorious laws
Of his divine cause
But met flying claws
He couldn’t pause
Their brains were too narrow
Much like their arrows
That flew like war sparrows
Into his bone marrow

Spreading God’s love
Without safety gloves
Leads to push and shove
Instead we must look above
While giving others space
Treating them with grace
And not seeing it as a race
Where their lifestyle must be replaced
Or their brutal culture erased
But be aware of the problems we face
When we start to desperately chase
Moments of transcendence
And fame
That will ultimately end us
In shame

From a monstrous storm
A monster is born
With monstrous horns
In a monstrous form

The genesis
Of my nemesis
Who venom spits
Left me with
A hefty myth
Of demonic gifts
Through which to sift
In that dark abyss
I found I missed
A beautiful kiss
To unclench my fist

I give monsters a wide berth
As wide as the Earth
To avoid all the hurt
Of being buried in dirt
Once I learn my worth
To them is the worst

Through the monstrous night
It takes a monster to fight
Against this monstrous plight
When the monsters have might

Don’t tell me I’m fine
Or tomorrow’s a new day
Just say never mind
And send me on my way
Into the world of grey
Through which I wade

My inevitable metamorphosis
Put me on negative courses swift
Now I can’t abort this
So my phone cordless
Provides a rather short list
So when I try to import bliss
I receive misery’s scorched kiss
In the form of crippling loneliness

I see the end of times
From severed ties
And clever crimes
In my never mind
I forever climb
While I’m left behind

In this monstrous land
I become a monstrous man
Because of the monstrous sand
Falling from this monster’s hand