I am lying on my back
On a quilted sea
Of green and blue.
My eyes are closed
And I can see me
Clearly in my minds eye
A swagger in my step,
A boy, rising,
Full stride.
I am raw hide and
Warm pelt.
My skin is bare and I can feel
The fur of a snail trail
Beneath my clasped hands
Upon my belly.
I can smell musk in the air
A manliness mixed
With the fragrant vulnerability
Of nakedness.
My eyes are closed
And I don’t want to open them.
My heart is burgeoning
My soul is climbing
Evolving
I am him.
Becoming,
Being,
And safely rocking
on this sea of sweat and dreams spilt.
With my eyes closed.

Breathing in,
Slowly, calmly,
For I can feel tears already forming beneath closed lids,
I open my eyes
And cast a shadowed gaze
Downwards
And along the lines of what I had been watching
Within my minds eye.
I cannot lie,
Here as I type,
I remember that sinking feeling
As if I am sinking again now,
I don’t know how
to describe
That ***** feeling
Of being stuck inside this skin
This skin that lies
This skin that hides
What is buried deep within me.
That which belongs to me,
That which is mine.
That which has always been and always will be
Me.
And I cried.
My heart surged,
it plunged into a scared and hurting blackness.
And I felt myself falling
Into misery
I looked down on the body
That was lying
On a quilted blue and black see
And saw me
For what I truly am
In the flesh.
In those moments
I wish I could live my every day
Eyes closed
And breathing in that which I see inside me
I wish I could bury my head inside my heart
And depart from the flesh.
Hide from this shell
This private hell
That wears itself outside of me.

Eyes open I see me for who I am
And I cry
And I want only
Again
For eyes closed.
Indisposed,
Sickened.


I am fit with eyes closed
And all I can see
Is the man inside me.

Stealing away from the noise and glare
I paced the aisles of an ancient library
Being worn and tired, indisposed to read
I sat in a corner, lost in half reverie

Around me were books stacked end on end
In safely locked glass and wooden shelves
And sectioned into different genres
Fiction, non- fiction, verse et al, in thinly layered leaves

I felt lost in this vast continent of erudite friends
Poet, scholar, philosopher and sage, each sat quiet
But those silent souls seemed to crave for human touch
Waiting to serve anytime learning’s lovesome diet

Closely sheltered from the tumult of the world
The place, though serene had an eerie air
And books like so many beauties in a harem
Were kept away in seclusion just to admire

The lifeless air and the long deserted look
Mildly disturbed my inner calm
Couldn’t digest man’s total disregard of books
Which for long, to many a lonely soul, served as balm

Sitting amid those gallant souls
I thought over the relentless efforts of sage like men
Who in the stillness of the night, in their cloistured cells
Plunged into research and meditative reflection

What knowledge is garnered in these tomes!
What all charms, encased in these pages!
To what magic lands they can carry us
Sharing with us the accumulated wisdom of ages

With the profusion of electronic gadgets
And information, readily available by a finger hit
Books no more are given a venerable treat
And fated to be stashed away in corners unlit

Heavy with the time tested wisdom of the wise
They sit huddled together in damp corners
Longing to get a little human warmth
But sadly neglected like rusted burners

After an hour’s enervating reprieve
While I was leaving that dumb world
In my ears, fell a faint sound
Of the agonizing cry of the Printed Word!

He doesn't care about
anything I do, anything I say
anything I feel, he doesn't
mind If I feel like holding kisses
and placing them in his lap
because he doesn't mind me
he doesn't mind me at all
he does not feel that
I belong in his mind at all
it's so depressing
I think I will still fall
madly in love
with the idea of him
a beautiful thought
yet a solid brick wall.

e.s.

I can’t write
These secrets won’t stop binding me tight
They keep getting tighter til my sight goes white


I just feel sick
Like I can’t stop swallowing all these thoughts
Drowning myself as my blood clots

My stomach aches
And I can’t keep down any food
Not even chocolate can fix my mood

My head spins
As I see you slowly fading away
When I always thought you’d be here to stay

My body falls
All these weights crushing me under
And pounding harder than the thunder

The tears won’t stop
And you know that I never cry
So why can’t you just answer, why?

What of exactly is a friendship lost?
Over minute trifles so easily tossed?
Or one that disbands in the cataract of Time?
Something worth pain and blood? Which is absolute and wonderful?
And so, too, can it be asked,
To which man is authority given,
Of such astute austerity endowed,
The man to pass such judgment in good faith and conscience,
Is none other than the crowd.
But, irrelevancies, I totter!
The worst is to be discussed,
For far beyond the scope of reason,
Have these travesties been concussed.
For here, I give to you the corpse of this bond,
This once turgid child of innocence
So, perhaps, its unadulterated substance may quickly manifest
Yet, I pray, I hope, I wonder, its marred and tattered mien profess
The noxious tonic it did consume,
Of ancient spleen and venomous ardor,
To rend its former pulchritude, to hands of untouched fury placed,
It suffered the most insufferable fate to befall upon any beast:
To reanimate, to thrive, to live once more,
In the hands of a tyrant and aimlessly exist
Necrotic at its very core.
This beast, this creature of hated stock,
Was my burden, my cross, to bear,
One, I weep to recollect, of part and parcel of my own flock.
But, I did this, I bore this, along with many others,
In spite of righted timbers,
In spite of rationale,
In spite of my fiber and moral code, that kept us forcibly constrained
For the sake of you, authority
For the sake of tranquil minds
I stood obstinate at the lineaments, between those contrasting foes,
In the self-imposed, childish Purgatory,
Completely indisposed.
Between the shining, gleaming face of holiness, and precipice of spite
For manner of serenity and cowardice perpetual,
Confronted this creature, I did not,
For the sake of you, dear authority, for the sake of stable place.
Children we were, yes, but no less severe the gravity,
For the winnowing of unity, at the yoke of caprice, is to blame.
A real friendship will endure, endure through the boreal,
Endure through the malice, the vitriol,
Will breathe new and longing appetite for breadth, for universality,
Of which all parts must maintain accountability.
It must stand resolute no matter how formidable the ballast,
It must be calm, objective, and outlast the harrowing feelings change may accompany,
Will sacrifice and encourage wellbeing,
It must imbue recollection, a past so beautiful,
Be a comfort in the presence of shame and humility,
Its essence, a friend itself.
But I can no longer pay, at the cost of sanity,
I can no longer give what little remnant humanity to forge another bond,
One made of dead and long-forgotten parts,
I can not, I will not,
I am sick, I am weary for all of the injustices I have done
To watch as the seed of hatred continues to bloom,
The veil of falsehood walk without shame,
To see her stride of perverting intent, tainting the world with touch,
Is a miserable folly to me,
A crime which I let permit,
A coward I was to not stop this, to not lay this matter to rest,
No,
My beleaguered hands put this evil in the ground, and left it to the tides of fate,
It grew, beyond my capture, beyond my strength to control,
Into this horrid ****, this miserable plant,
Which, still!, it grows sans disannul
To take responsibility to this, on me, I cannot err
But, naturally, none to the plant, it seems,
And this is only fair.

He hides one face
till there are two
then placed the lie
between two truths.

I'm higher than
the obvious.
I'm underneath
your point of view.

I'm higher than
the obvious.
I'm underneath
your point of view.

So insipid,
i will feign this,
indisposed to,
my reflection.

So insipid,
i will feign this,
indisposed to,
my reflection.

My reflection.
Myopia.
Myopia.
My expression.

My reflection.
Myopia.
Myopia.
My expression.

I'm underneath
your point of view.
I'm higher than
the obvious.

I'm underneath
your point of view.
I'm higher than
the obvious.

My reflection.
Myopia.
Myopia.
My expression.

My reflection.
Myopia.
Myopia.
My expression.

Little ant, so small and insignificant
Yet in numbers up an elephant’s snout
How easily you make him indisposed
Lesson to learn: strength in numbers
Maxim to remember: unity of purpose

Oh termite, thou destroyer of civilizations!
How mighty when surreptitiously you creep in
Such ingenious civil engineering feats everywhere
Orderly highways with neither jams nor congestion
And tall imposing castles kissing the air proudly
Result: new architectures plagiarizing your prototype!

And you wasp of constricted waist and mean toxin
You make no attempt to hide or disguise your dwelling
Yours is a house built upon a hill for all to see and tremble
They say when a man has no obvious protection keep away
Lest you trigger subtle forces that mesmerize and pulverize you
Lesson from this: commandos are modern day human wasps

Everybody owes the bee everything, from sweetness to health
The bees a-buzzing speak of persistence and how it breaks barriers
In the end you listen because the message is ceaseless and urgent
And oh sweet bee of the hot sting shot from your posterior
No cordon bleu chef anywhere can ever approximate your finesse
Your formula and patent are hedged with natural mystery
Lesson to learn: the bitter and the sweet in judicious mixture!

Now little man recently so puffed-up and conceited and ever so inadequate
Hear ye this and know it well lest you stumble and fall into dark precipices
You’re nothing and you’ve created nothing; there’s a prototype of everything
In nature’s wonder store of huge surprises and unassuming wisdom
Lesson from all this: one day the other world will rise up and assert it itself
So steer your course differently and beware of those who bide their time
Grim in their purpose and determined in their unshakable resolve

You Can’t Get Me To Lick Your Bones If You’re Never Going To Eat My Phone


I don’t need for the reading of your head
sideways. There’s no book of your gazes in
drugs I fluff myself in front of mirrors to the heavens and become elated, transfixed; I never become ‘indisposed’

you may shift your skin in those clothes I
would never spell nor the words I would never wear across the neck
I will never throw your prose across this
lubricious pottery wheel that governs the

awesome succubus’ coffin of Publisher
Clearing House dactylic feet, I have
a licentious groove and yet I never am
wont for those syllabic toes you push into

the mouth of me. Slippery soot-covered balms of the dancers jocular knot, so I say:
See Spot Run
away from that face of your clock
the beats of your Machiavellian speech

I am understudy to none
In cahoots with only the **** of my soup
kitchen, my idyllic sous chef he takes paradise and irrumates these

suture-battered stars covered in
elementary window wish dust
to poke your fingers with kisses
and undo your shoelaces even

while you you’re weary of becoming
the flat-footed ballerina. There it is
I’ve said it. Beware beware beware beware
when taunting me in your under wares

For I eat lines rare
Petite writhings of flair

Come on down to your Fletcher’s Store
It has all your needs to complete your chore
Marshal has it all you see?
Be it tools or p.p.e.
Obtaining kit is not that hard
If you have your induction card
But without your little piece of plastic
The treatment you get could well be drastic
Other than that, a cost code will do
That will prevent any further ado
If Marshal is otherwise indisposed
Help is near, it has been disclosed
His faithful helper Spiderman
Will always help you where he can
On the PC he also goes
Logged on as Marshal, I suppose
But back to the master of the store
He knows what’s behind every closed door
What stock he has, he knows off hand
spanners, raincoats , every little gland
a special order or a request
You can be sure, he’ll do his best
He is a man of his word
At toolboxes you may have heard
Laying down the law, giving you grief
Hoping to catch the lowly thief
Spending time with him, I have found
He is a rock, steadfast, morally sound
And if at times you may need a friend
Someone to listen, maybe an ear to bend
Someone there, sound and steady
You can count on Marshal Geddie.

Ernest 28 July 2011  (VPT)

Dearest My Lord.
please to read this missive not with haste
but in serious thought.


Come Sire, and view such unholy state
to which thou hast brought me
at being with child and of hearing lately
of thy touring intent mine heart
starteth in great alarm, as I indisposed
must know for sure that thou be
not going away.


Fie upon that scheme mine Liege for
thou hast in me fathered a babe.

Thou shouldest stay, and embrace mine
own confinement to disgrace,
whereby the infant will bear no name
and wouldst thou abandon me to this fate
prithee have pity on offspring shame.


Pray marry me do, thou canst not afford
to blacken my name by
seeing the truth and fleeing abroad
and thus relinquish thy parenthood destiny.

I belong only to thee so do not ill-use me.

Thou sought  thy way, now takest thou mine
for without thy support I must surely decline.

Thus thou ought to realize I live in frightful
dread unless on thee I rely.
This heart beateth only for thine say I.

Thou hast undone me so prithee consider
direst consequence, face thy conscience
and beside me do stay.

I remain heavy with anticipation lest thy reply
dashes all trust and quill thee therefore
to think my Lord on resolving such trouble
as of utmost importance.


Sent in the month of September 1709.
From Mary Elizabeth, distraughtly thine.

If a poem or essay can end with a conclusion or its opposite, either one,
Can it be of any use to anyone?

Do the discrepancies and disparities, dualities and densities, reflect only
      the dementia
Of the bearer of the pencil?

First entertain, then enlighten if you can. One stretches truth in order
      to pretend,
Another leavens with levity one's inevitable end.

Most days it's not possible to bring your life into an expressible state.
Disparate hopes, arduous chores, word choices. And, of course, the  
      state of the state.

Driven by ideas rather than rhymes, for it is not metres, but a
      metre-making argument,
That makes a poem. Convenience store or university English
      department

The day's disputes, down to the meaning of the weather, leave you
      indisposed
To share your heart of zero and your inner rose.

It is the strong force, the energy of the loved ones combined with
      cooperation for good or war.
Dad's years in New Guinea fighting ****, he said, were his best by far.

The best that can be said or done is Be where you are. Love the one
      you're with
Not necessarily an adult of the opposite ***, perhaps just a kid who
      hates math

And school, dresses goth, reads rarely but learns a lot from movies
      and YouTube,
Has the presence of mind to say I am who I am, deal with it. That's
      who I want to be

And have always been. Today clean the house, again. Woke up this
      morning to two thoughts:
How sweet to be alive! Life is tough.

In the shadows of stone mountains
Down a fragile ancient road,
Past streams and dreams of glory
Lay a leader bathed in gold.
Haunted by the battlefields of his youth
The forgotten weight of halos old.
A poltergeist of progress
Found downed outside the zone.

Cast off by players unknown
Pretenders covet the Apex throne,
Where Aculites fight like demons
Exorcising respawn beacons
Necromancers in the Thunderdome.
While Tom seems indisposed,
Locked up and throwing rocks
Mocked by the gulag and the snow.
Though we really should have known
The esteemed leader was on his own,
His chute just would not open
Slowmotion to the sound of Chopin,
Commander falls just like a Stone.

Ode to our empty abyss.
Why must God bless
That torn mistress.
One man's treasure
Is another man's forever.
Indisposed, he can still
Taste the musk on her lips.
Holding all this hate inside,
I surely will not live long.
You can keep forever,
And I will swim in darkness
Undressed, lonely, and deprived.
I will continue indefinitely
Searching for light until
I combust into shards of plasma.
Just when I become bright enough,
All I see is fire,
And the ashes of the dead.
These horrid depictions of mutilation.
Drowning in these bloodied waters.
In a day and age where we live till 80,
But it will take twice as long
To find anything steady.
Forever stuck in my head.
I'm ready.

Inside the memories of a you I never loved
I wandered seeking to be found,
In your lost kingdom crying out
My last tears never found
How can I cry when you don't even bleed
Groveling at your feet, in your broken castle
Blinded to all the damage around, I worshiped the ground  you walked
Followed your every footstep into a different kind of blue
Captain to your sinking ship, I waited for the waves to carry me
And when the current rose, I was washed to a different shore
A land nourished by the many tears you've shed
A ghostly horizon I was Indisposed to stay in
As if from birth I was knotted to suffer from
The pain of your beautiful rejection

You struggle with a corkscrew
I roll my eyes
We’re excited
Clattering glasses
Giggling
Scarfing Lay’s potato chips
Wavy, in case you were wondering
Like the hair that cascades
Over my shoulders
“Here’s to going behind my mother’s back!”
Cheers!
And we laugh some more
Even though my mind
Is protesting
You promise me fun
Lots and lots of fun
Because I need some
I agree
So down goes the bile
Already
It’s churning
Poisoning me faster than expected
My mouth is bitter
My stomach is too empty
My head is starting to swim
Down goes more bile
No use backing out now
I’m halfway gone
“To having fun!”
Cheers!
My hand trembles
Brings up the last of the bile
And down it goes
The room is unsteady
Or is that my balance?
Standing wasn’t such a good idea
So I fall back
Luckily there’s a bed
Was that always there?
“This probably isn’t a good idea…”
You assure me it is
So I guess I asked that
Out loud
I’m still talking
Whatever I said was terribly funny
For we’re laughing
Rolling around
As the room spins
Or is that just me?
You’re asking questions
I can’t answer you
My logic is indisposed at the moment
Stop asking me
Don’t ask me
Stop
Stop
I shouldn’t do this
My brain says it’s wrong
But it’s so soft here
And you say it’s fine, fine
No problem
No worries
No
A feeble protest
But I have no choice
Because reason is useless
And time just sped up
And I’m dizzy
Dizzy
Dizzy
What am I doing?
Slipping
Rolling
Writhing
Twirling
Reaching
Breathing
Spin­ning
Convulsing
Rocking
Losing it entirely
Up and down blur
My pulse is in my ears
Drumming in my head
Stop, stop,* stop!
My brain is shouting
Not right, not right, not right!
But it’s so fuzzy at the edges
So dizzy
And bitter
And bitten
And bleeding
Where’s my headband?
So disoriented
Can’t stop
Must stop
Not right
But so fun
No, not fun
Scary
Scary
Scary
No idea
What’s happening
Breathing
Too hard
Moving
Too fast
Boundaries
I need boundaries
Stop
Can’t
Hands in wavy hair
So tangled
Bruise-like marks
Hide them
Can’t let anyone see
Can’t tell
Must stop
Don’t leave a mark
Wait
Stop
No
What?
I’m
So
Confused
What’s
Happening?
Why
Am
­I
Doing
This?
Why
Can’t
We
Stop?
Must
Come
Down
So
High
Up
Too
Hi­gh
Up
So dizzy
So fuzzy
So woozy
Wobbling
Did I try to stand?
Let me down
Where are we now?
It’s green
So green
Leafy
Breezy
Walking—no, stumbling
Sit here
No, don’t start again
Must come down
Must retain reason
Must un-fuzz brain
Must stop

You promise me nothing will change

I slowly regain balance
The ground stops tilting
I’m shell-shocked
Realization crashes over me
Hits me
Knocks me over
And the guilt pours down
So bitter
Worse than bile
But I deserve it
I should have stopped
No, I never should have started
This changes *everything
Because I can’t face myself
With these memories
Running through my steadied mind

Familiar wounds oppressed omitted timbre,
Sallow contingencies imprisoned profaned emerald,
Indisposed intuition bares impassive fondness,
And the young girl ceases to exist inside.

What the ****'s a heart to hold?
A meaningless fleck of deeply hidden human pulp
ripped right from the inside, in your palm under your gaze
pumping as if you'd never torn me --
and I hope you choke on that if you ever think to snicker --
half-squeezing maybe three times till reviving
itself into an actual, real day beyond the veil that you, closing,
walk beyond as if I'd never, as if I'd never.

Thrown out of balance
weaving in and out of love like eerie whispers
in my ear when they first told me you'd take me
Maybe eaten up from inside at my own hand
But you were, too, unable to meet my demands
To feel the energy leave me
let it go courageously in faith
that you'll hold me all the same and not blame me
for wanting to know you

I JUST WANT TO **** ING KNOW YOU
I JUST WANT TO **** ING KNOW YOU

Just for saying I get told
for that you snarl indisposed
you use people as a verb when chiding others
I use cosmos all the same for you and you blamed me
for wanting to know you

I JUST WANT TO KNOW SOMEONE FOR REAL

Jack Squat, Tom, ****, Harry, Average Joe, John Doe and Mr. Smith
Decided to switch gears and do something neato
Instead of the usual nada and zilch

They went to go figure out exactly who's who in the zoo
And sure enough that's exactly what they did

They penetrated the mantel
Separated the crust
And stimulated the core

The Missionary positioned herself on her knees
And prepared to pray

They became metamorphic
They took the high ground
Ingenious
Sentiment

Fraternal twins
Both lived in eternal fret
One practiced fretwork
The other joined a fraternity
They both found each other years later at the amphitheater
They let their recessive genes surface
And clean the surface of their distressed jeans

Insane
In pain
Invain
My vanity
Is insanity
I'm panicking

The Golden age took place during My darkest days
Undisclosed illness
Indisposed
I left a bread crumb trail back to the poster board of my heroes and heroines

Masterfully
Mastery
Call me a maverick ,aster
Ask for me
Can't keep track of me
Can't keep up with me
Up keep
Big Mac attack
Crunch wrap supreme
It's not mystery
I'm a machine
Keep it clean
Make it shine and sheen

When it counted
I was unprepared and dumbfounded

But you'll never take them alive
They're already dead on the inside

I throw my voice
A slip of the lip
Plate tectonics take place  
Volcanoes erupt and coat the viceroy in ash

Cherish it

delicate fingertip sensations and completely exposed
encompassed in passion yet he remains emotionally indisposed
with every touch her innocence is relinquished
with every breath her poor hearts' walls are extinguished
for she believes his sweet whispers in her ear
telling her "Believe me... there's nothing to fear"
he promised his love through these preceding actions
she lost herself in all of his deceptions
and in the moment that followed... her heart grew dim
she wondered through the night... could she truly trust him?  
the night grew quiet, she rested her eyes
little did she know he was a wolf in disguise
for when she awoke to turn her head
all that remained were wrinkles on the bed.

Brings up the hole in my dreams, white dressed mannequin overlaid with sequins,
her dress form baring my hide, skinny legs in skinny jeans, faced with her blue eyes. 

This constant storm of thick regret, plays aching words through my stiffened threads. I am startled by the tinge of when he picks at my strings, his fingers cueing up my grief, I'm
transfixed by such staunch memories.

From this September thru December all that is anxious wrecks this time, blending stages of unconsciousness with the right to bide these rhythmic tidings outlined by the rigor of her whines. Bent by the rocking of the sea and the buried screams beneath, herein these mouths are tanned from where these voices once laid command.

Subtly superior, yet haunting in its serenity and clause, the metal stretched across her jaw, and while the dove is drugged, she cannot bestow her love, she is betrayed thru the very lens that halted life's immenseness and intent. Draped in her hospital gown, even her crown forgone, her gurney replaced her throne, no more royalty will she ever know.

Soma sudor, spit begrimed at ends, tiffs being had with friends, he takes away the organs, sends me back to consciousness with the bends. Every lock of hair I wanted, every piece of night I held, all my organs have been dismembered, all the luck I had is lost. In the corner of my iris there's a prime instance of despair, something left on a scrap of paper, though I could swear it looked like underwear. When the locusts fill this mind with every cadence indisposed, then they flourish on my body, leaving once they've eaten off my clothes. 

Hours were my pajamas, where I slept once, now I lie. I'm the afterthought of courage, even in this heady nausea I once found sublime. Here this corpse doesn't leave a shadow, missing time where love bid supine. Even the wind it curdles in me, where no heart beats from this life.

With a child inside this bullet, art existed on her face, twice it eradicated lying, but not the ****** debt betrayed. Simple sin on the interstices, connected by the dots where pleasure writhes. All my hands are covered by this fever, where my mind has gone to die.

“A malignant adversary invader of my soul,
Conge deceitful lust the augury of artifice,
Mongrel horrid rancor glutton of enthralled rage,
She was  fervent with only one ambition afore,  

A grand mistake on my part a gazebo of treachery,
Chattels contrary to my reasoning of my desires,
An indisposed viper camouflaged covered in blossoms,
Progenitor of gasps an assassin tarrying in quietude,

A sea shower of sorrows from whence she was drawn,
As the salty drops adorn my sorrows of woe and despair,
Bellowing a fever of the mind from the vile deceit and rage,
As a fish linked adorned to an alluring virulent,
  
Fabric as the adumbration of the suns shines remorse,
A rapacious blaze leaving thou shuddering in angst,
I have traveled on a road lead to pitfalls and misery,
Imbroglio with no emotion renders windy clouds afore,

A citadel thwarts wane of melancholy and remorse,
That which reason doubtful allows my malignant adversary”
By Andrew Guzaldo 11/1/2018 ©

i’m going to lay down on the shoreline
and fill my insides up with sand
until i’m full and indisposed when morning strikes again

i’ll sleep up on the rocks
anesthetized, but freezing cold
and i’ll cut my insides open, rotten guts and wasted bone

the stars weaken and lapse away
daylight is needles in my skin
i tried to alter time and space but never found the end

I sweet talk to a wishing well, truth or lies, even I can’t tell
My childhood bites, it cut my teeth;
Grounded and pounded like agency beef.
Said goodbye to a vanishing world, did a savage dance with a native girl.
Flashes and chills, it’s a strange sensation
Started from scratch it’s a skilled creation.

Head hurts but it could be worse, I wake up in the morning and it’s
"good night, nurse"
pulled from the warmth of the womb, slapped then cursed
it’s a fine line and it’s ill rehearsed.

It’s a wonderful life filled with terrible things, beautiful cripples who rip off our wings as we silently suffer their arrows & slings, desecrate, suffocate as it smothers and clings.
Brain slowly melting like butter on toast, I use it the least when I need it the most
Martians & cretins, with numbers in millions, they slither and slide seeming rather reptilian.
Love lies and it goes like this, I will garnish your body with my spastic kiss.
Lost my life when I lost control, it’s a fine line, but it’s not my own…

It steals you away with a madness at night, burns through your soul, this acetylene knife.
Takes away all the things that I once took for granted, ravaged my cage as I raged and I ranted.
As loud as the silence inside my head, should have run for the hills, took cover
instead now I live in the streets and the whole world’s my home.
It’s a hard life, and it’s getting old…

Still taking a thrashing with gnashing of teeth, a healthy disguise, a sick underneath. My head is still ringing, better answer the phone
It’s a timeline, I put it on hold.

You can be a go-getter or get it to go, from the firestorms above to the hellstrom below. We can burn and return to the scene of the crime, it’s a fine line, it gets finer with time…

I believed, was deceived, bought into this disease. You can **** it & sell it, or will it to me. Sainted babies paint rattles, then fall out of trees. Legs dissolving, devolving, return to the seas.
So show that you know me, then ******* to bits. Re-assemble the parts and see where they fit. I got holes in the soles of my shoes from a lifetime spent running away, gunning for the fine line.

Left my guts in your gutter, my brain on your stairs. Lost my nerve in your universe, now I don’t dare. I could live like a king in your starvation zone, or I could be Zeus in the ghettos of Rome.
Ignoble and cruel, indisposed disposition. Sue yourself lawyer, heal thyself physician. Jesus died for the sins for which we still atone, it’s a fine line, but it’s not my own…

At St John's church in the year of 1843
The priest Father O'Day couldn't rise off of his knees
The congregation did attempt to stand the man upright
Yet he'd not be relieved of this his stuck plight

Some in the congregation checked out in the back
Hoping against all hope that it wasn't that
But the sacramental wine was filled up to the brim
Which had them wonder further as to what was wrong with him

Like the sculpture of Mary Magdalene his position was set
Of the rigid state he'd never ever forget
All the alter boys offered prayers for a solution
Being quite disturbed by O'Day's poor kneeling elocution

Was this a trance or was he deep in prayer
Given over to the circumstance did it really matter
They called up Mother Superior to ask of her advice
As it was fish Friday, she said some other time

From out of the fathers prayer book a letter it did drop
The contents in it was not news that he could readily cop
A decrease in his annual stipend had on this day been proposed
On reading about it his knees quickly became indisposed

As he wondered how he would pay for his chalet in France
Or the expensive clothes he liked to wear to the local dance
Along with his butlers and half a dozen maids
In all of his high living never once did he think to save

A litany of poor monetary decisions had brought O'Day to his knees
No divine intervention would undo his futile freeze
Coveting the high-life on a paltry priestly wage
Would awaken him to a lesson of that more like a sage

Instead of falling into all man's sinful desires
He should have first consulted with his Higher Power
We all see it so plainly there's not much you can say
Except another valuable lesson learned from Father O'day

My hand becomes paralyzed
at the thought of
writing out my thoughts
true
but blue is the color
that shades me
hiding me in its hue

I want to express
how my heart aches
it craves
to connect

known for my patience
so a lesson
you must be
then

teaching me

to not waste
anymore time
oh how little time
we truly do have

so I toss and turn
in the moonlights beam
like a coin flipped into the air
what side shall I be?

caught in the middle
between waiting
and going
I cling to this meaning
of my middle name
hoping
for it all to fall into place
hoping
for you to just understand
me

All i want
is for you
to look at me
as though
I will not be
here
tomorrow

I teeter with this meaning
of love
when the word
routinely
leaves your lips
so mundane

what does love actually mean
to you,
******!?

Is it having
someone around
to deal with
your piles of clothes
scattered on the floor
like
my thoughts
indisposed?

is it knowing
that you can
stack the dishes
as high as
my anxiety builds
in hopes for it all
to come
crashing down?

Is it that you can
leisurely
spend your money
on
toys?
oh how your car needs
that ******’ loud exhaust!

though home
isn’t your concern
because love to you
is not having
to be concerned
about how I feel

I am just here
to cater to you

how am I so
easy going
to just grin
and bare it

you love me
so
you don’t
have to
consider it

because
you say it
routinely
so surely
my heart
is content…
right?

Zombie, zombie, show me your teeth
Show me that my fear is weak
Show me who decided you to make
Show me that which makes your soul quake.

I do not fear your skin decomposed
You will not find me much indisposed
By your croaks and screams
You only mask our dreams
Our secret, shameful, "To mortality!" toast.

Of course we say we hate you sometimes
But that is only when your power thrives.
We know you feed off of innocence feigned
But into my hands, my sufferings reign!
I see you for what you are;
Still, you cannot see me.
Fear: Hear me, I have raised the bar
Frightful to me you will no longer be!