His feet scorched on the burning embers, treaded,
As he sifted through the Nightmares he dreaded.
Weaving his way in and out through the debris,
Cutting himself as he raced for the ferry.
He paused, panting to catch his breath,
And let his eyes sink in the surrounding death.

And behold, what a sight he saw,
Human flesh cut, bleeding and raw.
Mountains of  bodies piled up with Sin
Naked and writhing amidst the splitting din.
And the gong of the bells from the deep chasms,
Resonating with the screams of the dyings' spasm.
Screaming and kicking they went up in flames,
Beggars and kings, lads and dames.

Stumbling he began to brave the road,
Hoping and praying he would reach the ford.
With each step his strong virility,
Started showing signs of debility.
Urging himself to reach the ford,
Where waited the ferryman on his ferry aboard.
He purged all the sinned who embarked,
The magnificent ship on the banks, parked.
Leading them on the infernal waves,
Over the lofty hills and the deepest caves.
Until they reached heavens door,
Freeing them from the sights of blood and gore.

As he ran, he saw high atop a tree
Whose branches were stripped off leaves, free.
A large bird with molten black eyes,
Gorging on both men and mice.
He saw that it was a vulture
Tearing a man and leaving his lungs rupture',
Quickening his pace he crept away from the bird,
Camouflaging himself with the dying herd.
Thinking he had passed the demonic beast,
Who was busy helping itself to its feast,
He slowed down and moved with care,
Only to be stopped by a shriek high in the air.

He looked up with great unease,
With sweaty eyes and shaky knees.
The vulture jumped up with a great swoop,
And circled the man in a closed loop.
"My, my," it cried, landing next to its target,
"Are you trying to escape my food market?"
"No, no!" He whimpered and crowed in fear.
"You will not reach the ford, my dear."
Said the vulture in a pitched cacophony,
"you will not hear the heavenly symphony,
As one draws close to one's destiny,
For the feral beast in me,
Will not allow you to let it be."
"Please," he cried. "Let me see,
What is meant for me."

The vulture roared in laughter,
Cawing and rocking faster.
So much it was immersed in mirth,
That it didn't see its prey of large girth,
Try to slip away precariously,
From the gaze of the bird which was nefariously,
Waiting for the moment to take the plunge
And drive its beak through the man with a lunge.

With a shriek, it jumped up in flight,
Spreading its demonic wings blocking the light.
Swooped down at the man and spread its wings,
Opening its beak as it sings,
The death hymn that flowed from his beak crescent
Echoing through the emptiness as it made its descent.
The man gazed in fear at the looming death,
With unblinking eyes and taut chest held with breath.
Looked up to the heavens and screamed "God!"
The vulture chuckled and reached its prey, with eyes agog.
Covered the man with its monstrous plumes,
With its beak dripping of drool, in flumes.
Drove it deep into the mans heart,
And made him part of its food mart.

I find myself, reeling, once more,
Slipping slowly, surely, into silent suffocation,
The soft edges of my skin, and I  succumb
like the sun, plunging perilously into the sea
At the end of another day, fraught with regal uncertainties.

I find myself, breathing, once more,
heaving heavily at the hollowness
Of my hapless, hungry heart..
Searching for traces of the treachery
that has drowned me in this distasteful sorrow,

I find myself, bleeding, once more,
bleeding unabashedly at the guilt,
that I bear in my melancholic soul,
tenuous tears of tessellation,
sink slowly, like the sun, into the soft edges of my skin

I find myself, numb, once more,
A numbness taking over, nefariously negating
the lasting love for light,
that I once bore deep within my self.
And I cannot find myself anymore...

These hollow eyes tell a different tale
of a darker more nefariously slanted reality
that nobody understands but you.

How it was this- then that
and then that and that
then finally what its become.

A charade orchestrated by synapse and fear
as well as a lack of experiential experience
that I  followed earnestly with my heart.

The unbearable weight of truth weakens resolve
bending intentions like magic bends the mind
until all energy flows away from the source.

The bridge now rests in water
with eddy's creating and dissipating
where the metal meets the cool cool water.

No longer can the other side be reached
looks like we'll camp here for the night
they'll be no crossing the divide today.

Though heaven marry innocence to madness
Or witness the soulful wedded to the ******,
We must not think that god delights nefariously
In deadening all our dreams with what's at hand.

i don't really know why the dub-step genre died so early
on, i mean: there were some truly authentic,
atmospheric artists residing in London,
Burial from south London for starters,
Benga - but **** on me, nothing ever came close to
DISTANCE, songs like: night vision, my demons...
the double album Repercussions -
     but the genre died a premature death... i guess all
that ******* regarding "the drop" before all hell broke
loose...

i must say, you tell me to move a tonne of brick:
i'll gladly do it, hell, it means that i don't have to do
100 push ups...
of course i'd rather ******* and do some cycling,
it's a passion, i never cycle for vanity,
i cycle for the thrill of traffic, i love to loiter behind
large vehicles moving to the right of them
so i don't find myself lost in the blind-spot...
right in the middle of the road...
large vehicles, esp. at roundabouts...
   momentum buffers...
always: the nearer i am to death the more of life
i draw... and perhaps it has always been like this:
while men feed off adrenaline,
women feed off anxiety...
how many times did i grunt beneath my breath
when approaching a roundabout and there'd be
a nervy driven afraid to join the traffic:
move *******! move! go!

- you will sooner find my dead than at a gym...
i'm still thinking about going swimming...
then again... the Thames at Cold-Harbour looks
very enticing... the Thames... a river that doesn't flow...
just sits there, like some weird *** elongated lake...
perhaps even a Loch... must be the tide in tide out...
yet... i always wondered...
what the hell happens when the river enters
the sea... is that some sort of inter-aqua osmosis
buffering dynamic or something?

gym bruh vanity projects my ***...
yeah, had this one "friend" who decided to loose some weight...
went to the gym... lifting weights?
when you want to lose weight?
bad idea... a very bad idea...
why? excess skin leftovers... you want to lose
weight: ******* for a swim or get on yer *******
bicycle... do the cardiovascular...
it's all relative: you're engaging your entire body
rather than parts of your body...
gym ******* comes after... for toning...
it's like art... first you paint the canvas:
the cardiovascular stuff... then if you're going
to have a couple having a picnic on the canvas:
that's when you go to the gym... or like me...
you do push ups... move bricks around or...
whatever...

if you're fat and hit the gym? expect to later have
problem with excess skin, like some ****** tattoo
of an ex-girlfriend's name on your buttocks...
and... time, patience... time, patience...
cycling or swimming... nothing else beats it...
- ha, the current climate of cycling while standing still...
Mr. Big's death on his peloton: peddle! peddle!
but don't go anywhere! ha ha...
i'd rather watch paint dry or buy myself a hamster
and a hamster-wheel in all fairness...

alpha-male ****-boys...
                                    hey, i'm not going to brag:
get it while it's cheap, but to hell with dating...
i dated once, but i was already ******* her...
went for oysters... and scallops... she was so desperate in
her hypergamy to stand above her fellow peers /
student flat cohabitants that she ***** herself into
my flat... bypass all the *******... there's only one thing
i feel like eating most of the time...
a fat juicy ****...

- but there really an art concerning the ironing of shirts...
i don't know why i didn't realise this prior...
it almost feels counter intuitive but i managed to get more
done than expected...
rubric:
1. collar
2. the yoke of the shirt
3. the sleeves
4. the cuffs
5. the lower front
6. the upper front
7. the entire body back

   i hate ironing shirts... but finding out this hierarchy
of what's to be done first... it has become
almost as pleasurable as shining my shoes...
arbeit macht frei: *******...
weird, isn't it, how that motto has changed in recent
times under my supervision...

- i only noticed... wait, what was i writing about?
well it's easy to get 100K+ views on a video,
people can ingest a video passively...
   i'm looking at 42K+ for one poem, given that i am
an alcoholic but also a workaholic:
maybe that's why i don't dream...
i just sleep... i fall asleep and "dream" of
a great amass of nothing, i wake up:
oh, look... a bunch of sparrows...
a pair of robins... perhaps it's different on the content
but if you've lived long enough in England...
it's eerie... watching crows fly past in pairs...
Huginn & Muninn... plus... it's not like you
get to see crows courting each other like pigeons
might... watch some ******* is a bit like
watching some pigeons try to get it on...
99% of the time the male fails...
do crows mate in the night, away from prying eyes?
they must do, they're very priestly in their daily affairs...
they not exactly prostituting themselves for
the eyes of man to peer at...
but i can understand videos getting so much views...
i watch videos passively,
i'm usually drinking or smoking
perched on a windowsill with my cat i've started
to nickname Rousseau... he has more nicknames than
is necessary... oh, sure... if i'm about to leave the house
and he's in the garden: QUORUS! the 10kg maine ****
starts dribbling his shadow home...
he sniffs my head... we head-****...
eh... i suppose having a child might have been
a fulfilling escape route: a completion...
but then again i had no siblings:
i was raised alongside an Alsatian and a Dobbermann...
i sometimes talk to my shadow:
what's happening in the underworld?
mein kleine: kleine betreffen...

           speaking English wasn't going to be enough:
it still isn't... i use it casually... i use it proficiently...
but i'm not satisfied with using it...
i need some etymological rooting... i need to go elsewhere...
English culminated itself into existence
from a range of sources... German, French... the Norse
Brigade... i'll go down the Germanic rabbit hole...
why wouldn't i have a fetish for some Deutsche?
oh ******* with the Russian... Cyrillic was always the ugly
sort of Greek... the alphabet looks cheap...
if the Russians are going to use the Latin A...
but invent some ****** version of D... to counter delta...
no... of course i can read it: but i don't want to...
yet...
         even at work, some coworkers tell me of the time they
spent in the USA... why isn't it called the FSA?
the federal states of america?
it's not like California has the same laws as Texas...
united, by... what? flag alone? support for the Olympic team?
i'm going to start calling it the FSA...
even though: it would clearly make the Bruce Springsteen
song sound less pop... born... in the eF! eS! A!

- am i somehow emotionally stunted for not having
children?
i've come across the people will children...
the plums of their eye... whatever the metaphor is...
very trust-worthy... when you bring children into
the world you showcasing a level of trust goes up...
it's almost an unacknowledged bias...
then again: this is England...
you have two factors to consider...
the over elevated concern for common knowledge /
common sense...
but there is that undercurrent... of common courtesy...
two-faced *******: but polite regardless...
i like the Thespian overtones in English society...
at least there's that fake middle-ground anyone
can grasp...

cats are not children... but if you can get a cat to
greet you with a head-****...
you're onto something...
           i don't think i could **** up a cat...
but i could most certainly create a Frankenstein's monster
from a child... that would be disappointing...
i sometimes across children: most of the time they
look mesmerised: by my posturing...
sure... the next generation is coming...
but i wouldn't want to put my gene-extension through
the washing-machine whirlpool of leftoid *******:
to begin with... trans-gender issue blah blah...
i'll go as far as to say... born on the Eve of Chernobyl...
my offspring might grow a third arm or something...
i know that i was born is a mark of Cain on my right
shoulder at the back...
some tissue was removed... intelligent body...
now i have excess muscle growth on collar blade arch...

to be a father, would seem like fun: it's all fun...
until you arrive at the point where the child realised
they have full: individual autonomy...
the happy to go to parents... i want to see them
as tired old people in about... oh... i'd say 10 years...
i'm patient....
not that i'm writing this nefariously...
but reality usually bites back...
what's reality going to bite me back with?
i can't go mad twice... you usually go mad once...
lucky for me that it happened in my youth, when i was 21...
now i can just sit back... watch a little:
ignore most of it...
i'm not even going to mind stating a: 'i told you so...':
shh... it's a big surprise... i don't want people missing
the great surprise...

on the market? women with three children
from three different fathers...
right... and me going to a brothel is a b'ah... bad "thing"?
even among my coworkers i tend to stick around
the women... football hooligans and their ideas
that just by being women: they can calm a crowd of rowdy
teenagers down with the words:
i'm your mother, your sister, your grandma all in one...
because i'm a steward... listen... love...
just let someone who's 6ft2 and 100kg in mass come in
and you... ******* somewhere... watch the moon
or something...

i couldn't be a surgeon if i didn't have a steady hand...
but when **** hits the fan... i already brought it up...
we're not here for an easy, wage...
we're ultimately here to prevent another Hillsborough tragrdy,
no?
that message didn't even recoil with a positive affirmation...
i stand around these female coworkers and they
might want me to feel intimidated...
someone, very much elsewhere might be reading me...
i might add... you know i felt less intimidated walking
into a brothel and waiting to choose among
7 different prostitutes who i was going
to bang for an hour? so what's this?
a ******* raspberry doughnut and a hot coffee scenario?!

am i bragging? i don't know... i tend to attract a lot
of ****** males and females just feel "hugged" around me...
i'm still thinking about Gemma...
yeah, i know that i mentioned that she was
on the defensive: she was on the defensive...
but then my parents are going on holiday for two weeks
and i'll have the whole house to myself...
last time that happened i brought back a Thai surprise
that i picked up from a park bench...
i played her some jazz on vinyl and ended up
******* her in the garden...
she gave me some memorandum items... rings... what not...
she disappeared into her size when i
put on one of my jackets on her...
******* Thai surprise became a Thai ******,
hobbit no less... walked her home... blah blah...

i need to bang Gemma... if i don't bang Gemma in
the next few months i'm done for... she's a 39 year old
single mother with an ex that brought her into 8K+ into debt...
she had a kid with him, the kid doesn't want to know his
father... i want to **** her as much as i want to teach the kid
to play the guitar... appreciate Ezra Pound...

of course i'm a loser by all modern, cosmopolitan standards
of dating... i live with my parents...
not exactly an Ed Gein scenario...
but... i do the gardening, i do the housechores,
i do the cooking, i even iron shirts... i hate ironing shirts...
but as i already mentioned...
i found an extra left hand in how to best get it over and done with...

i pay rent, i pay for food... otherwise, who would i live with?
flat share with some fellow milenials?
someone needs to inform the 60+ crowd about being
hip throughout... obviously they're not going
to listen to the music i listen to...
no: MATTA: chaos reigns... but... hey...

i love the idea of not telling my backstory...
i already know so many...
no one has yet managed to cough up the courage
to ask me anything personal at work...
would i tell them?
yeah...                once you've been in the presence
of 7 prostitutes all lined up showing off...
what's 3 female coworkers to you?!
a Victoria sponge cake, by my estimates...
something tame, something that would gladly welcome
being caged...

i like to wander the streets at night, sometimes
i come across a fox, sometimes a harem of deer without
a stag... sometimes i wander into a forest and start hitting
a tree with a branch imploring:
let me in! let me in!

chaos, regiert! die nacht regeln!

once more! einmal mehr!
English is not enough, tourists speak English...
Wankees speak this filth of a zunge!
follow the flow of history,
from the word up! anfangen!
hier! uns! jetzt! schnell!

                    vieh für ein art auf ein menschen...
das beste gehalten im linie...
  schäfer-von-menschen...
         alt.: hirte-auf-männer...
              
English has become... undermined... calmly said:
"plagiarised": that's somewhat elevated...
useless when it comes to its own affairs...
a lingua of / for visitors...
beside the accents... what is there for the origins: folk?
if Heidegger thought he was lucly writing at the time
of the National Socialist Insurgence...
where, the ****, am i?

   perhaps i speak a barbarian tongue from my...
mother's side, and my father to tow...
purity... what's that word in Deutsche?
   REINHEIT!
EINIG! GEHEN! SCHNELL!

******* linguistic  "mongol" mongrels!
ich reflekiert.... for a while..
the ungleichheit: the disparity...i almost joked...
i scribbled something in my notepad... seeing a commercial...
you know how English is spoken
is very much different to how English is written...
French: Fwench is even worse...
well then..
this one adcert stoood out...
it wasn't exactly special...
  
Licorice Pizza... that's what it red: read: reed..
right... so... first hurdle:
not thirst hurdle(s)...
ZZ? stop... you don't have the capacity to speak this...
just say **** over and over again:
Hugo Boss attired them blah blah...

liquid rice...  blacks for vinyl...
lick-or-ish...
     lick-a-Rysh?!
or an EE combat vest?!
you write one way, but speak another...
standard ******* from either the French
or the English... no phonetic clarity...
i'd better be suited learning some:
Hungarian, if i were to be terrible honest...
but now... i'm here.... this is now...
i'm enjoying the whiskey... *******... hello tomorrow.

Thick clouds of smoke billow from her mouth.
The taste of cigarettes and whiskey lingering on a pink tongue.
A woman-- With eyes of an angel
but a body of nothing as saintly.  
She beckons through the nebulous crowd.
Lips gleaming red from obvious sins.
Hips swaying ripened to a hypnotic beat.

Will you, (insert name here) go to her?
To indulge in her hidden desires?

A gentlemen of scholars, without a single dollar.

Will you, a man made of valor, rush to her?

Fighting it only makes the urge stronger.
Eternal darkness will never know an end;
the sinful devil in her tiny black mini dress.
She is a demon in nightmare form,
nefariously wrapped in silken weaved candy.

Her call is strong...
Her voice soft.
She beckons you;
   --will you fall?

Intellect sores, bountifully, higher then God
Nefariously bottomless, I fall then Hell
Eventfully, ill angels impel my ascend to Heaven
Fiendish demons walk me back
As I depress, I depress beyond saving
As I advance, I advance beyond saving  
The Devil, nor God can believe what I've become
I can't escape this
I am fastened in this blending line
And in between the insidious two, I am willingly blind
Hell and Heaven are consolidating
If the ill angels in Heaven
Are like the demons too
Heaven is the worst of the two

A river flowed from the most inner depths of my soul
Tainted scars fixated themselves onto my already blemished face
The improbable transpired as my once wholesome heart sat on the floor aloof due to the fact that the one being that once breathed oxygen into my lungs now nefariously tore at my skin with his nails that were stained from the fluorescent blood that slowly escaped my debilitated body. He snidely smirked at his destruction

Before taking my final breath, screams escaped from my torn lips as I recounted the years of agony he bestowed on me
Then my motionless body was comforted by the fact that the suffering had finally ceased...

So here’s my plan.
Blow up my home state.
Well, just Hawaii, that’s not a state (just of mind).
And then let the fumes and stuff drift over my real home state.
No Santa Ana winds for a couple months.
It makes all the people I don’t like very ill (Newsom).
For a moment.
Don’t use any green stuff.
It will make you forget the plan.

From their sources
all the hysterics, histronics, dramas and operas
from this view
nothing resonates, nothing is remotely evocative
nothing triggers nothing
the clone in their crosshairs
so far removed other than perhaps the mere physicalities
this was Chris and Joan's 'Truman Show'
sanity was and is never never a party to any of all this
and The Emperor's new Clothes meets Pin the Tail on the Donkey
and people are led down the garden path
who said 'you can#t fool all of the people all of the time'
and do you think crminals are sometimes called Racketeers
because they play Lawn Tennis, of course, Not
Anyways,
say what you like, but
at least our gangsters are nefariously adaptable
when Chris and Joan smeared their lies
they were sure the target would run away soon into the aftermath
who is going to brave Hell
he didn't run
and he faced Hell full on
So its his fault if we keep on making it up as we go along
the charade continues
its psyche warfare, its Neuro-linguistic programming
its perceptions Assualts, oh its Sensitizing, no its Anchoring
no, no, no try Haunting, how about just Bullying and Harassment
Whatever,
who will tell them they are fighting a clone
I just have a Front Row seat
and I'm munching Cashew nuts

I am pretty **** sure that my very sense of reality has been quite fractured right now I'm feeling like any moment now I'll end up being captured thanks to that ******* stitching little ******* I don't know how I should continue do I  run or just sit here and get ******* plastered just in case you didn't ******* know there's a hole inside of my very ******* soul that nothing and no one ever seem to fill I promise that I am ******* nothing if I'm not at least real very seldomly do I ever show what I feel everything surrounding me feel so **** surreal there is in fact something that is bound up inside of me right now but it's just sort of sitting here being still depending on how bad the break is in my mentality will prove if  my feelings are actually going to end up in a fatality.
for whatever reason it is I just do not ******* know whatever it is that is hurting me I just cannot seem to let it go
well aware that if I do I will completely lose control I'm more than a little bit demented and perverse I have a feeling that before things start to get better they're going to end up getting so much ******* worse I  cannot ******* help it
I feel like I am under some sort of curse even though it feels like I am the only person half *** awake in my part of universe the ghost I got for heroes once traded soon I will disperse   getting rid of them first for my demons drink of my misfortune they quench their thirst any moment now whatever is beginning to savagely build till out of my ******* chest this nefarious monster could soon burst
ever since my mom rocked me in my cradle I've known for sure but I wasn't anywhere close to being ******* stable I do  know that losing my temper while  unstable that my emotions would prove to be fatal not wishing to create just another meaningless label
I am in fact brutally ******* able to live comfortably with all these monsters residing inside of me or will I exist only to be in misery
It becomes quite clear to me that I have pondered such a question so  sincerely
all of this chaos has created a distorted version of who I am meant to ******* I've become  nefariously notorious and outlaw in my minds  eye I'm in need of an ironclad alibi
a collaboration of some story  fabricated and probably an outright lie something way more elaborate simply saying that I was out somewhere getting ******* high higher than a **** kite I am tonight there is no doubt in my head that my eyes just aren't quite right everything fades to black
when the road I'm on turns black I am blinded by the light so blind in  running off the road into to a place I've never seen before lost inside with these words I write
may I say that I end up trying to do my dead level best with all my might there's no one else that appears to be out there that in reality
is still here
I throw myself off  with the end in coming closer as it grows near  bits of my are starting  to just disappear how much more can I really take
How much longer before  ai stop bending and I actually break coughing with everything ******* deep breath I take
Feeling counterfeit like I'm a ******* fake shedding this feeling like shedded skin from a snake
I end up beginning to ******* choke
I'm losing the cause for I've been  completely broke
must be a ******* comedian because my life is a twisted ******* joke I am a hoax a  permanent ghost of some spirit I once attempted to invoke but instead that Spirit ended up being a demon that I did unknowingly provoke half *** woke I went into a dream Just as I thought someone had spoke.  Puff pass I **** who's that bloke in a hood with a scythe trying to act like regular folk.  I guess this could be a never ending night terror a nightmare to which no horror could conceivably compare I am sinking in the depths of my despair
I am just   about gone but gone to where *** and sweat perfume the air the dead don't see they just seemingly stare. Spill my secrets in this darkness I will not dare.
I am going, I'm going, going, gone down another rabbit hole impossible to console taking little comfort in twisting this bowl so incomplete I'll never feel whole. So much colder and more corrupt I become the older I grow.  See you later in the places even my Angels fear to go.