Vast, empty, midnight hour,
hunchbacked lampposts glaring over parasitic black earth
choking its host.

A parking lot,
an ecosystem’s blemish—
hot tar seeping into the pores of the earth
like a stubborn blackhead in a lip line.

When no cars burrow into the blackened hide
like lice
the great absence of life
is an atrocity.

I imagine myself skateboarding across the tier
as the small town cops
watch languidly with vague interest—

A skateboarder’s paradise
where wheels and accomplice minds roll across celestial barriers
blasting infinite pulses
into the microcosm.

What greasy punks have their mother’s van parked here,
huddling by the heat vents
and jerking off into a Pringle’s can?

Empty parking lot
looks like a cemetery
filled to the brim
where headstones meld
over a mass grave—

delineated by white lines,
the apparitions of vehicles and their hosts
haunt the frozen space.

Another horrible excuse
to waste land,
a wasteland in and of itself
where Tom Eliot saunters aimlessly
and buries the dead.

The saddest sight to behold,
this vacuous parking lot
littered with stray shopping carts,
phantasmal plastic bags,
gum splotches,
***** stains,
candy wrappers,
cigarette butts,
used condoms,
lonely cops
and patient drug dealers,
ambulant skaters,
tired punks,
bored teenagers,
somnambulists,
stumbling drunks,
hunchbacked ***** lights
prying for life beneath its sallow gaze—

The air encapsulated within the perdition
stifling,
the pavement below stifling,
a constriction only visible
when emptied of its contents.

A cop wakes from their choking nightmare gasping
to find themselves trapped,
****** in this parking lot
where the walkie-talkie buzzes
with the weeping and gnashing of teeth.

The warehouse store
looming above the waiting room
lifeless, silent, dark countenance—
Big Brother sees all in the gaping maw.

Cascading before me,
stretching towards the highway passing by,
waiting for the panorama to finish scrolling,
the treadmill to cease its cycle—
all the while lamenting life’s absence
and reveling in the potentiality it possesses.

sometimes the funk grows in my back of my head
and I start to feel like the sum of my mind
isn't good enough for my brain
and that nothing can please this monster of judgement
that sleeps behind my eyes

sometimes the funk cakes my entire perspective
and I'm so disappointed in the human being
that unfortunately constitutes the father of these words
yet I keep eating raw deli turkey right out of the bag
like some extra protein will kick my ego into overtime

sometimes I turn the mirror on myself
and I compulsively search for blackheads on my forehead
and they're always there
and its nice to pop them
because its an immediate blemish I can banish
a flaw with a fix
and it never crosses my mind
that the oils my fingers paint with
will birth the next blackhead for me to obsess over
a fix with a flaw

sometimes the funk recedes into the shallow
and I can happily hold my breath underwater
without even realizing that the pressure and heat
will scare those blackheads off my face
and not leave any fertile soil in their wake

i've been trying to assign a name to the funk
to dispel the crooked heads and furrowed brows
and all I can think to name it is human
and there are four destinations that let human thrive
hungry, scared, alone, alive

The footprint of this place
is a freshly razored face.

Mother Earth’s been ‘beautified.’
trees, grass, roots, shrubs,
stubble shaved from the chin,

neck and face smooth.
Underneath this house.

The whiskers have been shaved
        she’s dolled up
But in gruff’s stead
        there’s a wart on her face
A fossilized, mortared blackhead.

You complain that I don’t tell you anything.
I’m a secret and a mystery to you.
You’re my daughter, you say.
Everything should show plainly on my face
and my heart needs to be planted squarely on my sleeve.
Well, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry that I need to prove to you I’m worth it.
I’m sorry that I don’t trust telling you anything
because I’m afraid you’ll squash
my moments of happiness.
I’m sorry I could never be
who you wanted me to be.
But you never saw me for who I was.
You never accepted me just as I am.
“You need to be better.
You need to be thinner.
You can’t sing for the rest of your life, it’s not a living.
You can’t
You’re not
You are forbidden.
We always thought you’d get C’s in school.
What’s that on your face?
Let me pick at you,
because I can’t stand to see any blemishes.
(Never mind you’re a teenage girl,
that blackhead has got to go.)”
And you wonder why I don’t go home much anymore.
I think the things that hurts the most
is that you didn’t have high expectations for me.
You didn’t push me to be the best that I could be,
you pushed me to be who you thought I should be.
But now, I’m someone who you don’t recognize.
Because I realized the most important thing:
I can’t be anyone
but myself.
P.S.-I had a 4.0 this semester.
So much for the C’s.

Roses are red, violets are blue.
Sugar is sweet, and so are you.
The inside says you're dying,
but your face shows you smiling.
It shines so bright, and her hair is the most perfect shade;
Blonde and light.
The makeup never fades, all hairs are in place.
Nor pimple or  blackhead could be seen on this flawless face.
She wears the cutest clothes, and knows the newest trends.
How could you not want to be her best friend?
Look closley again. Are things really what they look to be?
Now you're second guessing.
Her smile is tearing at the seams.
Your head begins to whirl, how could you not see?
She is the most imperfect girl.
Scars run on her wrist, marks go down her thighs.
Beautiful eyes full of hurt, and a white smile full of lies.
A look in the mirror, and she hates what she sees,
don't look now, but she is in too deep.
A cut on the wrist to prove pain still exists,
and one more skipped meal to maybe change how she feels.
The rumors hurt, and the name calling is bad.
Little girl, you're much too young to feel this sad.
These feelings were all too real to her.
This life wasn't worth living for, that's for **** sure.
She wants this to all end and leave.
She grabs the pills, and pulls up her sleeves.
Down with the medicine.
It started getting harder to breathe.
Let me tell you a secret.. this little girl is me.
A closed door, a broken mirror, and a blood stained towel.
Everyone was left with the question "How?"
She was Mommy's little angel, and Daddy's little girl.
But as you can see,
in the end,
the roses wilt,
and the violets are dead.
Another girl with their wrists stained the color of red.

Crooked nose meets a saddening smile. Eyes dart from one blackhead to the next. Pores overflowing, oily skin peeling. Focused back onto untamed brows. Bizarre ears stick out of limp cheekbones. Hairy double-chin pokes out in an acne-ridden frenzy. Look too hard at a mirror and you’ll go blind.

“The Attic warbler pours her throat,
Responsive to the cuckoo's note,”

A blackhead chickadee arpeggeos across the plum's branch,
white petals floating down to pointillist path,
where a green and muddy ground catches moist spring.
Minuscule wing swarms dance circles and zigzag tunes
to April’s breezy baton in overture to nature.
Snow-bells, pawnbroker hang, while crocus stand in purple/yellow ranks of elliptical rooted silence.
Oh gentle air of ancient curious prīmo vēre,
what wonders will you issue forth and form?
With outstretched arms and hearts we welcome you,
your nurturing ways of equanimity in equinox so true.

-cec

"Ode to Spring" by Thomas Gray

You believe your deceived wrappings it in plastic is packaging dope
No hope its insinuated it's a rubber for
The **** bout to poke a hole in your throat.
Drastic is savage how you manage bad tactics like a crack head in a black bed. Light your trap house with gas and matches soak your mattress like a can of nitrous gents a black wire set to blast ****. Have it you blackhead attack and stab like bed bugs attack female abdomen. I'm a savage kid.
Your bout as average as a sadness in a hinder concert
Get nickleback to frame your picture in their photograph so your last day on earth is bout as happy as the *** you never had *****. **** it I'm a habit you cant grab so I'll wreak havoc on your planet. Stash your body parts and dismantled *** in the trash can next to the Pepsi cans you had next to my mash potatoes you *** **** stuff your prison up your ***. Go **** your dad and. Cry about the drugs that enhance the logic that your trapped in
Let's agree on one thing after this happens we gotta manage as ateam or crash and burn in damnation like damaged plastic afire and smoking toxicity gasping like a snoop dogg ***** flick with ******* laughing at your *** crack I must be forgetting passion they asking what's your rebuttal. Something subtle or drastic. *** this game of masking your existence to be free of guilt is actually fuck8ng classic but your gonna your asskicked oh it's going to be drastic wrapped like caskets burgers chips and dips and every ******* single thing I want like devils glass
******* and massive grass to grab like plants of madness in my field of dances... your up ***** cant wait to laugh it. Have it.


Split personality hey denial itself
Concocted script you knew was wrong.
I live it well so sit in hell
And **** your self
Slit your wrists and listen to the
Rythym of your heart since your so smart you only get yourself.
Furthermore. Evicted from your prison I ******* built so well. Eventually you built yourself. And the prison clothes youfitso welll
So sit in hell.
You selfish toy that never helped
Go fist yourself it fits you well.
You got stabbed by **** so well. You cried a little bit poor boy you've been through hell.
But heres no love your plate of **** can spill. Drastic plans of rapid cracking of limbs and body tissue will fill my hope with love and devotion to promote my open self. Go to hell.
My boat is well. Stash my *** in the trash *** I'm *****. And that's my *** as well. Grab it well. Romance is swell. But dancing with the devil is a dance with chance that actually matches well with how you have yourself.
**** **** your *** is *****
Cancer tip you have your **** you laugh at **** that lasts like bicks at psrtyd where theres random kids blazing massive spliffs
Cant handle it
The tactic is. I'm eradicatingrvery center of power you managed to position ammunition in a plan to have me blasted *****. I outlasted satan's plan you think you have a squint and grabbing any chance at this
Your dance exists for two minutes
Heres my *** handle this your switchblade is fuckingmanly ****.
The plan is this I'm sick as ****. Of surviving always asking forascrap of esteem from god or passengers on this path we get. Its laughing capacity I couldmanag3 actually with out you in my family. You actually tactically kept my fragile self in happy health and fuckingtoxicly mis managing and tragically opposite of what I want romantically halftime guysaroundme ******* want me actually I'm amazed gods brought me Hope's of life beyond senseless prisoner bitter denial depression and insanity.
That ravaged me so savagely
You laugh but it's not funny its very sad to me.
You gladly and happily where my protector when my fragile soul was grappling with battles unmanageable damaging. But now you've grown insatiable and practically so terrifying I'm afraid I'll pass my life with drugs and suicide and no love left for my boyfriend kids or family. My uncles passing came like blasts from heaven that wrapped him in an aura of glowing light with magic like gravity to keep his soul in heaven when god was mad at me.
An angel he took to heaven. One good friend and sacred family.
Darcy your practically a massive black hole that sits empty like a blackness cavity in the center of my anatomy
Tragically
You battled cancer but god never waits for Angel's. Specially when he has to be. The watcher of creation and defender of reality.
Happy me I wanna see you in the realm of angeps with my beloved family and laughter fills our gasping lungs with guilt free cancer at lungs max capacity for exhale detonation placed so much buttons in this rhapsody its practically packaged labelled match me up on tinder let's get this freaky **** happening I know you want me so bad you practically attract my *** like a black hole collapsing in a pocket of a space attracting madness to your black ****
Savage get my *** licked. With a passion for romance like candles make a blanket feel like panic in a disco. Like let's go into abyss and finish what we started. Let's pump this heart. And get *******. Who's the marksman whose the target. Regardless I'm going to be the smartest your the hardest. I'll see when every card revealed and my darkness becomes your heartless target in the part so ******* even Gabriella and serial killer valentine's yo smart and scared to watch it.
Slowly marshmallow
My hearts jello.
This parts mello.
I start with hello
Smart but metal
Is a complex
In my mind that never let's go
With a pencil scripting truth like dental floss keeps teeth from being yellow.
Instrumental suspenseful
Pen on metal like mulisha
Intentions like mental
Retention on forgetful
Eventual. The devil
Of hello.
With fangs like ivory moon
By silent
Silent but dreadful
Incredibly lead soaked
To bad that the rest of his buddies
Are dead yo
A weapon of settling with ***** status
And learning your not a devil nor god nor king of the temple.
So your the chosen sent message.
Of god and his men. But you feel weak and resentful. *** you were tough.
And no one told you an order.
So your slowly learning submission
Let go of your heads load.
And focus on worship
Regret is a dead flow.
The rivers stagnant no growth in contempt the fish dont go where
Lifes not willing to let go. Embrace totality of god surrender and be s member of gods home.
Were not known. But so hot yo. Cant wait to watch for the hope of having myself back in order. Pray I'm not alone in the journey you fought so hard to watch me walk home with slot of love you brought home to my top dome. My heart a hot zone of love your like a rock show.you talk so gravy you and god saved from a rotting talk show where I never ate hotdogs and pretended to love nachos.
Where oprah unfolds before my eyes I'm in a foreign body. But I reject it and fu kingwalk home
I dont want those. I fuckingwant home.
Be awesome when I get to heaven I fought the devil. Awesome wish but god ill accept any gift you give me. I know it's not home
Unless god knows
We all have roles. If I'm the door greeter I'm never gonna talk slow.
If I'm feet warmer I'm a make them feet go from hot cold.
Server of elixir. I'll drop half the tonic on the furnace to ignite a flame *** fall out boy obnoxiously thought so.
Like I'm the slowest to complete the list but different in every box that's chalked or marked and oprah's talks full