Was it not I
Who tried to die
Nine
Lives
Three are spent
And here I lie
My third grave.
I fell slave to love
To behave
Elocution by electrocution-
See my eyes
Touch my hair
I may breathe men for air
But mine eyes
Have seen the light
To the unenvyable cry
Of my plight
Slight of hand;
What a trick it is to die.
Maggots feast upon my eyes,
I would've rather burnt:
Little jew, little jew
What has Herr Doktor done to you
Chimney stacks
Bellow black;
I do not do
I do not do
The black shoe
I've been living in
For nearly two years of suffering
My ailing mind
Blind to happiness.
deranged:
A form of estranged from reality.
For now I fly
High as a vulture
Hung in the sky,
The Zoroastrian carcass
Beneath my circle;
i cannot die,
Without that vulture
A phoenix become
As bright as the Sun
And I will never die
Cheated of six lives
it is not fair
so yes
i eat men like air.

my gift.
the greatest gift of all.
You cannot give it back.
and it is not easy to give
to sacrifice
my gift
to you is time.
a part of the only life
i know i get,
this one chance.
and this present
i give to you
to do with as you wish.
but beware:
i can only give so much
you cannot give it back.

I don't care.

It's that simple.

And as much as I try to,
Caring just isn't what I do.

So I don't.

I don't care.

My little ray of sunshine:
Your sunny smile, your sunny face.
This golden train of hair,
That follows you place to place.
          Your beauty so fair,
          Your will - strong,
          There's nothing you can't do.
          Your fight to care,
          Can do no wrong,
          Beauty shining true.
So to the girl with the golden heart;
And golden hair too:
Keep a pure golden heart,
And to yourself always be true.

My words fail me
Most when I need them
Like a babe, dumb to speech,
A mouthful of nothing.

My words fail me
Most when I'm with you
Because our souls pray "Namaste"
And never stop talking.

And my words truly fail me
When I can see what you want me to say
And all that I can mutter,
Might as well be thrown away.

Cigarette most foul:
Burnt lips,
Bitter kiss.
Last action ere bed,
Left for dead.
G-d have mercy;
My body a temple
And this my incense.
Immense
My pulsing temple
Thoughts forgotten
It's a lost prayer
Uttered under hushed whisper,
Cigarette most foul.

It all began one crisp, Spring night
When I had a secret to share.
And once I did, you didn't take flight,
You stayed, stayed because you care.

And though I left and grew,
For a year I missed you so,
And I think it's time you knew:
You stayed, but I had to go.

Through all the pain I ne'er showed;
The drugs and drinks and men,
Through some dark times you don't know
You stayed now, stayed then.

So to you my friend, my dearly beloved:
I wish naught but joy and love,
I promise for you I'll stay,
Even to watch from above.

How seemingly mystic
The conservatory ideas,
engraved into our existence
developed into passions
leading to so much.
How seemingly confusing it can all be;
the cyclic, linear process of life.
Neither dead nor living.

There is only self.
Only one thing I can be sure of.
Self...
whatever that may be.

But that frightens me:
Only self,
myself
only me and again...
i'm alone in the dark.

How selfish existence is...

It's almost that time of year again,
When I have to say goodbye...
and you're still nowhere to be found.

I want to just run away and never come back,
drug myself into a wondrous stupor
Numb
from your mutilating grief.


"I'm done mourning"
I keep saying.
I'm not.
I haven't even properly started...

Maybe I should join you...
In the great abyss.

I don't belong.
Never have.
I don't know where to go.
Might as well not exist.

Perhaps today I will belong,
Or maybe today will be my last
Day here on this god-forsaken idea
Of a joke
Called Life.

I want to run. Night.

The bronculets of the trees,
Deflating into the soil beneath them
Painting the image of the world beneath it
Dragging on the blanket of autumn-orange.

Life is ripening to the full red of Autumn.
The cold winter begins to settle in as the earth ventures from the bloomed Summer to the Icy Winter

The Autumn settles in, only to move on
The human condition, represented in nature:
     To be born to die...

You're a little like poison:
You make me cry in pain
Scream in agony
Bleed in hysteria
Feel as though Death himself had broken me.

And then there are the highs:
Those sweet sickle highs.
Where we laugh,
Feel,
Love
Burning bright!

But then I remember you don't love me.
you Poisonous Drug

I work.
Everyday without fail
I work.
It is tough
Grueling
Painful
Arduous
Work.
But I do it
Not for Riches

For you...

They stare,
Their eyes gaping and mouths gawking
Unfinished.
A mother, a father,
A brother, a sister,
Cemented and immortalized together
Forever.
Generations upon generations
Plastered, stacked, stuck.

They leer upon their visitor,
Welcome to there home,
Twisted and cruel,
Yet their beauty is still seen
French goddesses still upon their thrones
Under their castles.
Their lovers,
Still sophisticated and poised,
Protecting themselves and their maidens.

Underground
The Catacombs.

I'm scared, my nerves are shot,
This is the one chance, the last chance I've got.
I know I have to do this right
But I'm scared that by tonight
I would've failed and be left to rot.

I'm scared, really I am,
And I'm not sure i can,
But i must go on and fight and win
And then at the end begin
Again and fight when I would've ran.

Ready?

We're destined to doom anyway
So at the end of today,
                                         let's run away?

I want to see the world,
and explore all the caves and floors...

I want to swim and dance
and laugh and sing

But the one thing I'd have to bring?

you.

I have nothing to give.
No offering,
No sacrificial lamb,
No barley,
No incense to burn on the plate.
I have nothing to give at all.

from nothing to nothing

In this myriad of existence I can provide
No sustenance,
No value,
No help.
If I were the tool I needed to be,
I'd be nothing...
A blunt blade,
toothless rake,
A scythe with no blade.

from nothing to nothing

In these, my darkest times
I need what I am...
Nothing
Nothing can only create
Nothing...
This cosmic miracle,
An unprecedented alignment of atoms
Breeched by the need for value,
Success,
Worth.

FROM NOTHING TO NOTHING

I have nothing to provide.
Nothing to offer.
What's the point?

*nothing comes of nothing

I will let you dissapear
And come back a changed man.

I will let you cry
And ruin my sanity.

I will let you break my heart
So you can move on and be happy.

I will let you destroy my soul
Because I was not enough.

But
I will never
Never
Let you
Go

Yesterday:
I was a boy;
Afraid of the world and wonder,
Yet captivated by all it's precious plunder.

Today:
I am growing;
Changing and shifting as the sands,
Of the dry barren lands
Unexplored.

Tomorrow:
I will be a man;
Held in my roots steadfast,
With a legacy built to last,
And last.

I need to escape the past,
But how do I escape that which has made me,
That which has developed me,
As a film,
Pressed with the stains of a forgotten time
But a remembered pain.

How do I forget the past I created and in turn used
To create me and my knowledge,
The power I use to circumnavigate
the treacherous waters of the present,
A present so wilted by my distaste and displeasure
One simply cannot fall away
And out of the depression the past creates.

How can something like the past, in the past
Be so current,
Ruling the present and so Forward
As to rule the future.

How can I escape the past,
The past which built me?
Is to ask how can the house escape its builder
When without it, I would suffer no grandeur
And experience no appreciation.

The past has built me,
Moulded me,
The faint moss washing over.

My past has led me to this present,
The present I am so grateful for,
How could I wish it undone?

I am not my past...
But I am my Past's creation,

Alone
                                                           stuck alone.
                                                           These feelings:
                                                           Terrified.

Who am I?
What have I become?
Where did I go?

Questions, left unanswered
Or rather unable to answer.

I am me,
But so wrapped in the idea of my sexuality,
my identity means nothing
"that ***"
that's all they see me as.
But I am more!
I demand to be seen as more!

But until I look into the mirror and say
"That's me"
they have every right.

I AM that ***
I AM that queer
that lost soul.
but
I am me
and that's all I want to be.