I can play any part.
If that's what you want.
I can do anything you ask.
Nothing but machinery.

The gears and cogs turning in my mind.
Get muddled when you speak to me.
I've built myself from the ground up.
Then you swing into me, crashing me down.

I can be your everything.
Make myself dependant on you.
I can do anything you ask.
I'm nothing but machinery.

My fuel's running low.
My springs are popping out.
Your lies to my face.
Your knives to my heart.

You can pick me up and repair me.
Or toss me out with the other garbage.
I always thought I could take it all.
Whatever you had, you could lay it on me.

But when I cut myself I bleed.
When I fall down, I get *****.
I crash.
I break down.

My blood is not black.
It is not a thicky, oily mass.
My skin is not metal.
It will scrape and produce wounds.

I thought I could do anything.
Anything you asked of me.
But turns out I was human all along.
Made out of flesh and blood.

Inside that closed door
where I've lost
In the herds of thicky darkness,
I feel suicidal and awful
awful beyond all.

The walls asunder
from the commotions and laughter
are weak enough
to avoid those,
or may the strongest enough
to cage my emptiness.

Through the chinks
of that thatched home,
the beams of moon
makes me burn.
But my eyes!
My eyes can't see
Neither a star nor the sun.

In the dead silence
of that pitched black room
I'm frozen,
In the aghast of darkness
Pulses runs fast,
Oh the Creator!
the supreme of rullers,
dazzle of lights
demanded I never,
The all I need
just a glitter of Yours.

#life #dark  #poetry #mythoughts

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Here rises the below into the above teasing man nuggets & eyeballs
to tear the fabric of chastity & virginity at ****** laundries in malls
Here sinks the above into the below as a **** against Niagara Falls
who hoarsely engages in horse-play with horses in their horse stalls
whereat oats, yellow corn & grain are mixed into a poison like ricin
to **** an ear-chewing ******* known as tattooed ****** Mike Tyson
who spreads on Holyfield's nig buns thicky a crunchy peanut butter
like might a **** lumber jack romancing a raunchy tree-cut brother
squirming during prison-yard love on bunch-free Shreveport clutter