Wondering if I should continue engraving my name on these fables.
I should give up.
Or I will start.
I wait for the midnight to move.
Sleeping for her newest hour.
This point brings me no higher.
With this fortune I move every warlock in this world.
Pictures worth many words.
Letters not worth burning.
Over all the words, the few strikes of the storm.
Jumping from dilated memories.
This is enough erasing.

Monday to forget Sunday and Saturday.
Tuesday to plan Wednesday.
Thursday to remember Thursday.
Friday.

In the bathroom I polish my mirror.
Turning the hourglass wondering what I've lost.

"You've found nothing and so, you've lost nothing."

The voice of angel Death.
Heard only when I lose consciousness under bath water.
Rise again, search for God's scrutiny.
Wipe my eyes, blot my nose.
I fail to glimpse my siren.

Ah, a time to reflect.
A collection to publish.
A thought to be sharpened.
No.

Only words to be ignored.,

Something here causing mold.
Something changing in our voice.
Nothing strange, it's nothing noticed.
But it's not a thing that should remain so solid.
As solid in life, like facts. Those knowing there is strife.

"I believe this to be your own problem."
I tell my son this every night.
After dinner.
After his mother calls and after his mother moves to bathe the day's sores.
In bed my son recounts to me his good deeds and other's misgivings.
And I think of young women I should have ******.
I listen and ignore his requests for good advice.

Do my words contain a sedative-like effect?
Or they are amphetamines?
Neither, but poison?

"Only God Can Judge Me"

I tell the man with needle in hand these words I want as tattoos.

              Tomorrow is Tuesday.

Hello my past-loved muse. I am not creator now.
Remember days ago and you'll not see me there.
Success to be found in my life, yes.  
Let's walk my wasteland, my mecca to be.
Close your eyes of wind begins to stir.
The stagnation is chilling.
There to my left is sterile ground.
  Abyss in the sea of nonexistence.
Stirring. They souls not yet pulled into my catastrophe.
I spend the nights swimming along voids.
And I waste my days questioning true North.

There is something just below my heart.
Though you say I own no such thing, I feel a virus dancing.

Though you tell me I am bones and rot.
I feel life and discipline festering.

Abuse.
So tell me this sea has you today.
It's this sea that's so deep in you.

Abusing you.
There is nothing we can do.
You are drowning.
                                   (SOS)
We will bury your corpse in what we feel is love.

When you remember me.

Here I am. Just as a promise.
Yeah...
still imperfect.

Yeah here I am, watching all those men say hello without goodbyes.

And here I am, a bit more together now.

Yeah I called, just to say my life folds together, inward now.

And yeah I called.

But not to tell you how pretty
and empty they're becoming.

I called to say that I called to say...

                         (I've)

Tending to a kitten's cry and not my oily hair.

Her eyes burn with an intensity
that yours never could.
And I feel alone.
With this frame, this pain, this agony.

I figured benzos.
But they burn oh,
Emma.

And love.

A feeling where you are already dead but people cry for you.