They tell me I can do anything.

          Looking down the throat of a challenge.
          Hanging on to the coat tails of life by the fringe,
          above a fire that is trying to singe...
          
                          ...Who I am
                             My Identity
                             Targeted by
                             a self created entity.
          
          To bring me down...

                          ...Below my potential
                             to see what is essential
                             through consequential actions.

I AM A MAN!
   no matter my wingspan... I CANNOT FLY!
         And those childhood encouragements are a lie.

                   But through accomplishing what I am capable
                          I find that my boundaries are escapable.
    
  
         I'm not shooting for the stars,
         or looting and ending up behind bars,

but I am me, myself,
doing what I can so I'm not rotting on a shelf.

Grounded
root thrumming
spiral down Kundalini into rich darkness
the end is here
as is the beginning
I find I am Free
At Last
having grasped at the edge of reality
and lost my fingerhold before
I know what it is
to fall into madness
Here
here in this soul music
I find I am hovering instead
my breathing steady and cool
my muscles warm and limber
the fatigue passes
I float
I am pulled and ******
allowing each note and beat
to guide my body
my mind is elsewhere
I am entranced
-
I detach
from time and space
my breath and touch show cold
yet I am on Fire
I see all the nonsense in front of me
and cut the ties
suspended within the music
I leave the edge of reality
my embedded fingerprints visible now
and continue to dance
I see all the ******* around me
and cut the ties
this is Not madness, it is true sanity
it is my arrival to Home
and I continue to Dance.
I see the confusion, pain and hurt within me
and cut the ties
insanity leads into pitch black nothingness
This leads me into infinite light
still, I dance.
-
pushing through the darkness
leaving the illusion of this world behind
I have come to the other side
there is no edge to fall from
there are no bindings of obligation
the chains have always been self-imposed
easily escapable
why did I not shed these long ago?
I am taken through lifetimes and back
I am ******
I am *****
I am Moon
I am Earth
I am the First Woman
and the Last
I Am One.
This all within my full mind, sober, unaltered
the answers are right in front of me
all I have to do is open my soul and see
for this I do my Cosmic Dance.

So you're riding in this car, and you feel this kind of feeling. Like the wind is softly caressing your skin as curtains drawn over a freshly opened window on a spring day, blowing in soft spurts up and down your skin, subtely undulating to the ryhtym of natures heartbeat in harmony with your own. At a stop sign, it's second nature to stick your cigarette out the window and flick, but at full speeds you should have known. You should have known that the sheer movement all in one direction would be enough to wipe that ash straight away, revealing a new and beautiful burning ember, bursting with life and oxygen, beckoning up at you with the long lost pleasures of your most recent inhalation of life into those black heavy lungs. You stop to think and realize that life, with it's many shortcomings and speed car races, is a mysterious enigma, with an ultimate prize when you solve the puzzle.



But that last puzzle piece, oh how elusive it remains over the years. Be it love? Or loss? Perhaps musical inebriation or an exceptionally deep relative conversation with a complete stranger. The kind that leads to dancing eyes and an incredible variation of ****** expressions that you hadn't even thought possible from the tiny muscles below your cheeks, pulling the strings from somwehere up above to show you the right complexion to wear at any given moment or pause.



I still think that love must have something to do with it. More intoxicating than the ripest wine from the most exotic vineyard. More majestic and mystifying than the school bus ride with your fresh smelling brand new pleather/plastic superhero backpack and matching shoes on your first day of school back in 1995. More powerful and tumultuous, yet unpredictably moving, than the first time it hit you like a ton of bricks remembering in mid adulthood that some place, some where in time, you had a real home, with a real family, with real holiday tradtitions to celebrate and commiserate about each and every year, but that's all gone and done for. Yes, love must be involved some how, the invariably escapable little *****. She must be hiding somwhere amongst the tree lines and leaves, the rivers and valleys, the shooting stars and comet tails brightening the dull black of night. Yes. She must be somewhere.

Maria Yuryevna Sharapove
Cuantos amore y tu?
De Donde eres?
Soy de Estados Unidos, un poco en la Florida.
Es muy bonita aqui, Yo pasar vivir en Tampa, FL.
Currente en Orlando, FL.
Sus ojos me gusto muchas.
El feo es muy beauty-full.
Las flores de unas manifestaciones have certainly done their NUMB3r on me.
Die.
Fur.
Ewigkeit.
eternity.
Everlasting.
eruptions.
Elliter­ation eh?
wet Yet?
I bet you sweat for a Poet?
I certainly hope you adore an actor.
I beumse you to be a mused by musicians musing over you alone.
Marriage isnt so tough when you I toughed it out this long.
Have Your Veins ever felt like Runaways?
Meow.
Me, OWWW?!
(;
peace//love
X//0
sugarpova?
sharapova?
more like supernoavs!
excuse me
supernovae
eh?
I could do this alllllllll day (:
Wuv youuuu
Lov u?
I wish I knew russian
Yuryevna is the only world I need to understand.
The sun swirled my whole life
Arent you the sun incarnate
and
immaculate of course.
we gloridifed all the benches
killed all the 'rockstars'
I Am augustus, antony, another one?
it goes on
ad infinitum.
I have a perfect soul.
So do you.

'I want you to notice when Im not around. You're so very specialllll :(

I wish I was Special

But Im a 'creep?
Your the creep!

Your the ******.
But its okay
I like 'Polka" dots.
Ill 'CRUCIFY' you wink any ******* time you want. BELIEVE ME.
Now
Testify

Run
Run
Run
RUŃÑŃ Uhm
Are we done yet?
Nope

"Whatever makes you happy, whatever you want, a child as soon as possible of course. Youre beaitful. The most beautiful princess a 'prince' of 'peace' could corrupt. (;

Lets Let Love LIE, Live.

Everything in its right place Maria.
I know Im a Tangential Thinker, diagnosed by Grace itself.

Ive been through prison, kail, solitary confinement.

and guess what

it wasn't all for you
but it was and i never knew

My lost lenore.
Quoth the Raven.
ALWAYS.

Hemophilia runs in the family
A bleeding disorder
I was fortunate
My sister got the gene, not me
She is a carrier
and has mild Hemophilia
If she had been born a boy, it would have been far more severe
But even with her mild disorder
She spontaneously begins bleeding
Without anything even happening to her
I spontaneously begin bleeding too
Even though nothing is happening to me
But you can't see that bleeding
It's internal
Not inside my body
But inside my soul.
Or something.
I'm not really sure where it hurts, all I know is that it hurt a lot
People say, just be happy!
Don't you want to be happy?
Can't you just ignore it?
NO.
That's like asking my sister
When she spontaneously gets ****** noses
Just stop bleeding!
Don't you want to stop bleeding?
Can't you just ignore the fact that blood is pouring out of you?
NO
just because the pain is not visible
DOESN'T MEAN IT ISN'T THERE.
IT IS NOT ESCAPABLE THE SAME WAY BLEEDING ISN'T
That is why I'm trying to find a distraction from the pain
Because when my sister gets a ****** nose, she just goes and distracts herself with a movie, so she doesn't pay attention to the bleeding
My point is, though
No.
I can't just "be happy"
I'm bleeding too
And it is spontaneous and inexplicable
YOU JUST CAN'T F*CKING SEE IT

I honestly am not suicidal anymore.
And that's good.
It's nice to be able to say that again.
I'd like to feel like I'm living more often, but I don't want to **** myself anymore, at least.
I honestly am not suffering from an eating disorder or any kind of weight paranoia.
This is also good.
It is really nice to be able to feel less worthless in that sense.
These are good things.
I'm getting better.
Let's focus on the positive, Ember.
This year WILL NOT JUST BE AN EXTENSION OF LAST YEAR.
You don't want to live like that anymore.
The silence is over.
Build something better for yourself.
It's time to find your own escape.
And it's time to focus on something better.
Maybe this sinking feeling of depression isn't entirely escapable, but count the struggles you've overcome.
I don't cut anymore, I don't starve anymore, and I don't make drafts for suicide notes anymore.
These are good things.
I still feel hollow, but I'm alive.
I'm going to start FEELING alive.
This is my goal.
It will be okay.
I need to start believing that.
because it is true.
I just don't know it yet.

Our lives are full of constant manipulation
Yet no one can seem to find any real solution,
Finally I realize that we are fully capable
And that our lives are actually quite escapable,
Therefore I plead with you to join my silent revolution
In order to create an awe-inspiring instituition,
That will result in a cease of being susceptible
And instead further lead to the creation of an individual,
An individual with the choice to either accept conformity
Or to stand up against normality
And create an altogether new formality,

So I ask you,

Will you join me and build upon this realization
Or forever live among a simple and mundane regularity?

Rainbow village Episode 17



Fred, Lyle and Georgina decided to walk down to the shopping mall about 15 minutes away from Rainbow village, and as they were walking some of the young hooligans were skidding down, burning rubber, and some bikies did wheelies, which made Lyle jitter and he ended up saying, that you guys ate a pack of losers and should be f..n locked up, and one hooligan threw a rock right in his face, and Lyle collapsed straight away, while Fred stayed with Lyle, while Georgina went for some help.
Fred told Lyle not to panic, even if he was in pain, and then 2 hours later. The culprit came over, and told Fred, when I was a little boy, I was taken from my home, by a weird man who fits his description and his age, and I know his name, because I don't forget much from those days, and when he said that Gia name was Lyle Hoffman, Fred couldn't understand,
And Lyle told him, that he didn't **** him, so why do you want revenge, and he said because no one ever gets his hand on Peter Buchanan, and now, Lyle, you are going to be ******* in the public toilets, but I think I want you not to be as lucky as I was, so Fred, you go back to your retirement village, (which he said moving his fingers up over his head) and let me deal with Lyle Hoffman and Fred pulled out his mobile to call the police and Peter knocked it out of Fred's hand and then he said, that he doesn't trust him, so Peter took Lyle and Fred hostage and brought them to a rundown factory, and when he got them into the machinery room, Peter set the bomb to go off, in 3 hours, Peter wasn't wanting to **** Fred, so he made his rope escapable, but Lyle's ropes were on tight, and when Fred got free, he went over to rescue Lyle, but his rope was too tight, and he couldn't get the rope loose.
Lyle told Fred, his version of events, which didn't sound good for Lyle's defence, because it sounds like Lyle made his bed, and wanted Peter to lie in it,
What Lyle said, he got sick of Peter and his mates teasing him and to get revenge Lyle grabbed Peter and pulled him into the car and drove him off to the country, and then when he got him there, Lyle decided to get his gun and stick it at Peter, to make him too scared to say anything, but Lyle said in his defence, he let Peter go before the police arrived and shot through, and then he told Peter, tell a soul and your dead, and Peter was scared shitless, and apparently Peter hasn't worked since, but Lyle called him a gutless trouble maker.
Peter came back in and Fred told him, I see why you are doing this, Lyle told us the whole story, but you are making you just as bad as him, and Peter said, he is the reason why I am walking around psych wards all my life, and if you don't let me **** Lyle, I will go to Rainbow village and tell the manager that Lyle should be locked up, and not given the lap of f..n luxury, and Fred told Peter, please spare him, I have the name of a good lawyer, and he can help you get justice against Lyle, and Lyle went. 'hey'.  And then began to be super scared of Peter, because what happened was a long time ago, but Peter didn't give a hoot, but Fred's advice made sense, though, if he loses Fred will cop it, big time.
So Peter let Fred and Lyle go, but that wasn't it, no Peter rang up this bloke and, yes, Lyle went to court, and in court Lyle was getting fried, a he can't seem to defend himself properly, Lyle said one word and the prosecutor kept throwing stuff at him, and despite Lyle having Rainbow village giving him character references and all thar, Lyle's defence wasn't looking too good, and after 1 week of 3 sessions, the magistrate brought the matter in front of a higher court, which could mean jail time for Lyle, and the date was exactly 3 months time, Lyle was scared as he said to Fred. It's all your fault, he was a blushing trouble-maker and Fred said, yes but it still ain't right.
The end

I'll always be the uncertainty
in a liminal space known only to your feet —
the one you'll always cross
only to step on fragile ground.
I am the kiss mark buried deep
in the hollow of your throat, darling,
the intoxicating Scorpio Venus hands
that aim to unravel, to claim,
the chase slipping off your fingers,
as you still in bewilderment
all the same time.

Skin me dearly, breathe me in
before I go,
in earnest longing;
I have a bad habit of leaving —
yet lingering like the scent
of your brother's cigarettes.

Yet you always come back
knocking at my door at midnight —
and I always have waited for you, darling —
I always have waited for you
in strange, barely escapable hours.

This, an unveiled obscurity — an epiphany, darling.
Our enigma and clarity that perhaps —
perhaps you've always been mine to love.

— "and I, yours"

I am only a man from no particular strand, left stranded in the wasteland of morrow,
A shadow of was, a mere hint of a memory set forth as to a tease the absence of colour,
Why you torment so?
An un-escapable prison defined merely by the concept of the mind, twisted, locked and deep confined, forever chained and twined,
A freedom haste and fast must find, or forever stay in context of mind...
Tis death mere convenient?
An escape say found with but a single token for the toll man, use wisely if must, and only if must, but if don't you must, then listen in trust, if later if sooner we all will........ And must......

You are like the sea,
Truth be told there is no other way to put it.
The sound of silence covered in repeated sigh.
A total embodiment of things placed of collective wonderment.
What shall triumph the noise of wave overlapping wave.
Of all things calm you spread your presence,
Drowning in the bliss of serenity.
You and only you could create the quiet hush dreams are made of.
Although
Some tides are bigger than most, 
Of all times, not all are escapable.
Splashing against the shore in a bipolar like disorder.
Crushing everything it touches, selfish in nature.
For every action there is a natural reaction that displaces the initial action.
A need for finding peace in the eye of discord.
This is where your heart becomes a walking representation of the sea itself.
And I the jagged coast, cleansed of any disbelief that things won't get any better outside of the moment.
Pieces of myself lost in you. A constant movement no longer stagnant in thought. 
This is where I consider you the sea, the depth of your eyes covering everything it touches.
And I the boat lost in mid drift, without a care in the world.
A means of transportation exploring a depth of things I never knew to exist.
The things you keep hidden.
Far from the hindsight of eyes, your habits, things you reveal to be true given enough time.
The constant change that happens every moment of every minute.
Still it doesn't take away from it's beauty, the things kept hidden.
You are like the sea, 
A profound way of expression.
And I, the sailor. 
Watching the truth reveal, bit by bit.

It was in a dream, no a nightmare, or maybe not
but it doesn't really matter
the idea took hold of my imagination in my sleep
swaying on a draw bridge, you know the tale we all know
rain shattering on the darkness of my inner eyelids
and the barely held together steps simultaneously danced in the wind
and held me back from turning this dream to a barely escapable fall
but my nightmare in my bridge made of imperfections surfacing
with each step realizing that I had a choice to keep moving forward towards an idea of perfection
turn back to a memory of stability
and each step held me a little longer
offering the polaroids of safety that they took on more clear days
each one was a little more clear and hold me much longer
and as i take more and more steps, finding it too far to turn around to familiarity
this must be growing up
i won't burn my bridge because of memories and mistakes
but keep moving forward to strengthen it with success
and lessons
next time i visit you, draw bridge in my head
i'll be able to go between my idea of perfection and stability

I Remember clearly
that cold winter night
the night
I opened up my eyes

A warm took control
of me, a laughter
uncontrollable
a feeling escapable

No worry, no fear
just the thin smell
all about the air
a smell my coat
now shares

I opened my eyes
to a brand new
sight, took part
in that amazing plight

A brilliant new
sight, full of
laughter and,
uncontrollable
cheer

i hate this *******, even writing about it gives me Sartre's nausea, but it's the reality, and as such, given it's reality, it's in-escapable, so there's no point hiding behind a putrefaction of ideals with nice, ear-pleasing sensible words that do not antagonise, let alone engage with dialectics, that sharpened version of what is know to be simply: a conversation, or via Shakespeare: too many stages, too many worlds, too few actors, a load of physicists though, deliberating poly-dimension etc., but too few actors; what a massive Holocaust of subjectivity this scientific positivism came to be... clearer cloning devices are in place than what the Koran invites. they will not convert so easily, having been robbed of communism! the mongolian conversation / connection, i.e. if it worked for the mongolians to become a nation sub- in the geopolitical stratification they say: 'it should have worked for us, but it didn't, we're as dispersed as the jews! and we're met with more anti-semitic remarks around the globe than the ******* Deutsche!*

and when the recession hit
the majority of european countries
poland remained recession free,
and when the migrant crisis came
the european union abolished
the schengen union:

zumbi e o senhor das guerras
zumbi e o senhor das demandas
quando zumbi chega
e zumbi quem manda

your tribe - our tribe -

i.e. **** your little unity project for a café culture;
hostility will be met with hostility,
or quiet simply right-wing football hooligan
marches with a flare for acrobatics of explosives...
i didn't want it, as honesty goes
i am in debt with Scottish universities and i'm
not paying them back...
i'm on £120 a week benefits after being
misdiagnosed as schizoid... oh look,
Michael Myers is smoking a pipe of Hashish
in Damascus.

She holds the key to destiny in her left hand
While clinging to life with her right
Trying to remember why she does this
She sees her friends
Begging her to stay with the
Pleading
Refusing on the grounds that
She wants them to be able to live happy
Choosing to sacrifice her own well being
For a fate that she's ALWAYS been against
Believing that this is the right thing to do
Struggle so that others may prosper...

She holds the key to life in her hand
Letting it drain all the joy away from her soul
Replacing it with the agony of anguish
Struggling to stay among the living
Questioning her own choice
Claiming the dead is better suited for her
Not her words
But the words of a child
Who has given up on life itself...
She holds such a simple key to the fate of
All not one
Becoming corrupted by every negative thought
Of every living human being
Dying on the inside
Living a lie on the outside
Wanting to be free from such a dark fate
But afraid of the consequences to do so
So she stays
Remains a prisoner
In an "Easily" escapable prison
Called "Fate and Destiny"
...

What remains in the aftermath of love?

As streets are built without sidewalks
As neighborhoods no longer have use for streetlights

As parks and sunsets turn into myths
As the stories of lies and deceit become the only nursery rhymes we pass on

As *** becomes as mundane as eating bread
And ****** become larger and more frequent than church communions

As ***** become cheaper than blood

As faces become so interchangeable they're impossible to remember
And names turn into secrets

What remains?
When everywhere is no man's land

When childbearing is just a rare, yet escapable punishment from God

When children migrate in swarms between families like birds escaping winter

When love is just but a militarized weapon used for enslavement

When humanity is emancipated from their emotions

Shall we celebrate our independence by clearing our contacts list and changing numbers?

Shall we start each new year by picking a new stranger to stave off our hunger for the night

When we stone those who learned each other's middle names

When we lock away anyone greedy enough to keep someone to themselves
And the married are sent to live in the madhouse

When the war of love have ended
And no one's heart returns home

What remains?

Awoken abruptly
It burns my brain like acid
I dissolve, absolute fear
I would rather die than feel this
Indescribable terror
Non-escapable

In your troubled eyes

ominous black clouds formed above

As we waited for the sky to open up.

In your broken heart

Pain buried deep beneath the surface

A volcano waited to erupt

Your mind clouded by turmoil

A faint whisper of my intuition

failed to scream your truth.

In your soul, a grand canyon left a void

As you continued to detach

and your conscience faded

In your hands, a bottle

Filled with emptiness and relief,

A final solution and a way to find peace

In your house, a body left to die alone

Last breaths of a life

Escapable only through tragedy

Leaving only those who missed the signs.

The time, dismal
Caught she cries
To her own detriment
Because of her lies
Situation, not escapable
Caught she cries

Prologue-

The guide doesn't show the way.
Only the end.
There are no math/maps to the number of ****-ups that led me here.
But I'll fill you in on a secret (keep them whispers).
1 plus 0 equals 1
Do you understand my reasoning?


Chapter One: Shame

Fourteen was so easy!
Endless number of cigarette butts
taught us the ways of coughs and dry vomiting
You are such an amateur! Can you do better?
should have known that that road led nowhere…
But back alleys and the introduction of such sweet surrender
"honestly the high isn't even that good"
Then hit this and hit it hard
My nose still stings from the pharmaceuticals grounded into fine powder
You had me hooked.
I was an addict.
Soon I'd have jumped through burning bridges for another ****** snack!


Chapter Two: Dodging bullets

Kind of think they should teach a class on S…T…Ds
Or maybe I shouldn't have dropped out
the night before Ms.
(pay attention to the lack of a ring on that finger)
gave the lesson
Then again
a proposal for ***…class
probably would have ended up with more than me in detention
Or would have found us in the girls lockerroom
(she was only five years older after all)
Screaming obscenities between thrusts and moans
And lighting up underneath the bleachers
"I didn't know you smoked"
And I didn't know you were so experienced
Pity fantasies are only fantasies
Mistakes are still mistakes
And it wasn't till three years later that I wish I hadn't missed that class.
Countless used condoms found themselves on the side of abandoned roads/streets
with just as many left forgotten on dashboards
A miracle the tests came back negative


Chapter Three: Cross One

So call it superstition, but reminders are needed
nothing stains more than that of ink
Cross one (of four) finds itself now on my chest…
three nails intertwined. Tight.
You might as well as have crucified me then love
I introduced you to the life of falling stars
and you introduced me to fact
You get hurt! Deal with it (stop being a baby)
Tears meant nothing to you,
Even though you were my atlas we're free falling now
and glass shatters when it crashes down
We'll pick up the pieces later
if they matter…


Chapter Four: Snakes

Emotions became taboo.
I locked them away in the dark (lost in some circle of hell)
Praying light would never find them
A warning scrawled in blood-
This is Pandora's box
You would have thought that that was a euphoria of aphrodisiacs
A mess of mating hormones
because soon I had a line of woman (what is this? Wal-Mart?)
Promising me they could show me what love truly is
And I found myself trapped by snakes
(why was this so cool for Indiana Jones?)
Where's your whip? is the only thought coming to mind
Their promises sounding like hisses
"You willllssss lovessss meeessss…."
I wink back at them- keep on thinking that


Chapter Five: Spoiler

1 turned out to be multiple choice
A) Me
B) Me
C) Me
D) All the above
Were you able to make a decision?
Truth is that I'm still guessing…
Process of elimination
Ignorance was so much easier when we were young
Parents wrapped everything up in innocence
Such little angels but…
(where did our baby blankets go?)
the facts still remain-
we knew what we were doing
Still do…you whisper
Spoiler
Read on at your own risk-
At this point there is no more denial
((pay attention mother-
pay attention father!)
This one's for you…)
I have been asking what my biggest problem is?
Answer: ME!


Chapter Six: Denial

We look the other way, scream out in defiance
"There's no way!"
"This is not my fault!"
Where have we heard those words before?
Give it up-
This is a movie
And you are right on cue
Keep up the emotions
Maybe give me a little more
(yes daddy…)
The camera loves you
Even more than I do
I already knew that…
I can't take it anymore.
I know it’s my fault.
Will they catch the subtle differences
between drip drops?
Or will it be too late when they realize that the iron smell
Isn't me hitting another joint (thinking they don't know)
but a redecoration of scars…
Will they care?
I doubt it.
I can already hear my father's voice-
This'll be one hell of a cleaning bill
Thanks for the sincerity old man…


Chapter Seven: Cross 2

Ten years of absences-
Broken promises and empty "I love you"s
I've heard them all before!
I'll hear them all again.
Part one:
FIRE
"we'll go next week"
You lied like all the times before.
Wasn't long before Washington was in the rearview
and California filled the windshield
Like bird ****
at least that's how it made me feel
Not Alaska, just you
"I'll be back"
You don't need to lie, I know you won't
Just like all times before…
Part two:
ICE
You were less rewarding
and with all my problems
It was no surprise they were your favorites
Guess 2/3 isn't so bad when looking for angels
I must have been one hell of a devil
with how quick you downed that cocktail
(opiates and narcotics)
As if you were drowning yourself in pain relief
My soul shattered,
but you'd never see anyways
Frostbitten
Desolate
Goodbye was all I could manage
before your eyes glazed and the door slammed behind me


Chapter Eight: Zero

Always loved the term melting ***
Throw in:
tears,
lies,
fears,
blood,
hollow cries,
too late goodbyes
and my favorite of all
Refutation.
Call it what you will, but denial is still denial
You can tell where the pieces were jammed together
Picasso would be proud
Amazing what you can do with super glue
a shot of whiskey
and the promises of no more (you)
It was heaven at first
Each star blinking out like nightlight bulbs bursting
A sunflower affect across the skyline
Call me Tyler and
I'll forget you
with a 9mm to the throat
Steel tastes different then I imagined
Explosion
"goodbye…"
And when you add one to zero-nothing changes love


Chapter Nine: Devine

Let’s have a moment of peace
Or not…
wink wink*




Chapter Ten: Last Cross

And X marks spot
where cannons burst.
Flares ignite
and love ones die.
Call me Hawkins, Jim Hawkins
but we’re traveling in style now
the freighters of before give way to cruise lines
and instead of running from pirates
we’re the ones waving banners of
blackened skulls
"Never wanted to stay young anyways"
Now dig boy!
What's funny is that you never had to ask,
because I still have the key to oblivion
Atlantis/Pandora's been discovered
(Hell is escapable apparently)
And where you cut the flesh from my chest,
The cross solidifies
opportunity in its place
I'm still bleeding
You snicker. Insert. Twist.
Then…
Nothing…
"I'm sorry," there's a smile on my face.
"For bleeding on your white shirt"
WHERE IS IT? you ask
You'll never know though,
Nothing was ever there…


Chapter Eleven: One

From conception we were ******
innocence dies quick (what, at like nine?)
And if you knew then that I'd be a burden
I'm sure you would have wrapped that tool tighter
Don't worry, I feel bad for you too
Who wants disappointment?
but I am a poet
Can't you tell?
I wrap all of this sadness, self-deprivation into prose
where you laugh because of the wit
which is really nothing more than my-
Inability to articulate…


Chapter Twelve: Solution

Echo-
The guide doesn't show the way.
(where are the road signs?
did you forget to mention something boss?)
Only the end.
There's no math/maps to the number of ****-ups that led me here.
(I'm sure you lost count.
I know did.)
But I'll fill you in on a secret
You can scream it out if you'd like!
1 plus 0 equals 1
Do you understand my reasoning?
Of course you don't…


Epilogue

Clear as day,
the question is simple-
How do you **** up your life?
Answer is no new news.
It all starts with 1 (you)
add everything that amounted to nothing (0)
and you are left with 1 (you)
But don't worry, you were destined to fail from the start…
Alone…
but we aren't are we?
Why did you join me?
No answer.
Just the smile that started it all.

Undeniably the greatest annoyance in my perceivable existence,
Someone take him by the arm cause he's gonna need some assistance,
When he figures out he can't resist this way I spit fire with supersonic consistence,
I would go full force on him, but his dad does that enough,
I'm talking 'bout when he gets beat with the belt, and the **** stuff,
He sits in his depression on his phone, waiting for a friend to holla,
Or when his dad leaves and he's all alone, he moans, getting licked on his **** by his dog Nala,
Eventually he meets up with his inferior faggoty friend who's hair is **** brown and reddish,
Then they be off ******* each other's toes cause his whole God awful *******,
I almost killed him once, on a four wheeler, driving full throttle,
He almost killed himself once, getting beat after taking a **** in a shampoo bottle,
His abuse complex with his dad isn't escapable,
So he attempts to take his anger out on the masses,
Although he was properly educated and capable,
In high school, he ended up taking four special ed classes,
In the special ed wing,
I'd catch him talking to some girls,
He called "pretty things",
And he took the hand of my world,
Yes, tried a hand at my girl,
So I took a right swing,
At his jaw and he swirled,
Back to his thotty boys,
And makeup-caked girls,
This bisexual *****,
Has another thing coming,
If he thinks he's *******,
For my ***,
Cause the only time I finish last in this world,
Is when I'm on top of MY girl, *******.

They say that I can
I know that I can't
I am a madman
They can just recant

I would if I could
For them and for me
I know that I should
For it is their plea

But I am not capable
It is not escapable

Immaculately, I etch
your name on a tall tree, pretending
to love the unknown pain.

A terrible femininity
appears, but is escapable for a gory
theme to bring down the god.

I will collect all the
names of sins to be punished
like Sisyphus. Tranquility comes in blood.