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4.4k · Sep 2018
Adam
a lake of blood is promised

homes fill with fiber optic prophecy.

"put away your lenses children and sleep under the lamp's shade."

our purple rice growing

Vishnu mumbles and stirs in his sleep.

by the crystal pond, a poison frog sings.

decorating the sand and reeds are skeletons of the old wars.

nearly dust now.

unable to make decisions for the weak or young, the strong or the old.


four seasons yet to pass

attention given to the wolf's lonesome cry.

place your head in sand,
witness the scorpion.

she is
emperor and admonisher.

the tiger breathes in and breathes out its final breath.

lay your belly upon wheat and remove hunger.


an angel's velvet wing cools the fever,
the old sickness of Old Salem.


onions, apples & lemons are sprouting.

there, just underneath the horseman's hood.

quickly, look.
happy birthday sweet prince

tragedy
2.6k · Dec 2012
Paleontology.
In all my years as professor of Paleontology at Ublique University, I never thought I'd have a bad day. My life was a happy one. I had a car that was payed for. A cold refrigerator, full of food. New & improved gadgets & gizmos. A wife who would rub my back on request. & it all changed when I turned 42.

It was the morning of August 12th when things changed. An orange & cool, slightly windy day. The sun had a warmth that started as soon as I woke up. No heat. Just warmth. I woke up to find nobody at my bedside.

"Bacon." I quietly whispered in excitement.

If Sharon woke up before me that meant breakfast. & that meant coffee. I could use some. The night before, we had a party celebrating my 42nd birthday. A special one I think. Making it to 40 is a feat. Surviving the next year is an accomplishment. But, driving gracefully past 41 into a mature 42 is... smooth.

I stretch & roll out of bed. Squeezing into my slippers I noticed the bedroom is messier than usual. A few things are missing out of my drawers & the rest of my room. The bathroom is missing a few things as well. Soap, washcloths, towels &...

Oh dear, lipstick!

There's a lipstick message on the mirror in elegant cursive. "Goodbye" is all it says & needs to say. Sharon's left & taken my heart & soul with her. & the bacon.
"Alright, time to think." I keep repeating in my head. I'm thinking, but only one thought comes to mind.

"Why?"

Sharon's gone. I get up from the bed. My heart drops to the floor. That's not her handwriting. We've been robbed & she's been taken for ransom.



I sit down for a minute.
No!

Not for ransom!

It's a sicker crime. They only want her. For their own sick, twisted reasons.

"****, what should I do?" the only thing rushing through my body.

Again. Stop it.

I run downstairs into the kitchen. Alright, i have a knife. I'm armed & dangerous. I run into the living room. My blood runs cold. They're still here. ****, ****, ****, ****, ****, ****.

I run back upstairs.

In a flash of white light the scenery changes.

I'm in a hospital.

"How did I get here?" I ask myself. My stomach hurts & my left arm & leg are wound in casts. There's a vibrant red lipstick stained kiss on my left foot with the words, "You knew all along" written in cursive along the bottom of the kiss. Before I can collect my thoughts, a sharp looking doctor walks in.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to run with scissors? Or rather, knives?" he asks.

She did & I musn't have listened. I had a hard time listening. Sharon! She almost slipped my mind.

"Doctor, I need to go home." I semi-ask.

He rebuttals with, "Nope, the wound in your stomach isn't life threatening, but we want to keep you here for a few days."

I bite my tongue ax logic kicks in.

"Okay." I say.

I'm going to escape.

I pull out the IV's in my arm & look for my clothes. Can't find them, so I settle for the guy's down the hall. They're a little loose on me, but the belt fits. The shoes however, do not. ****. How am I going to get past the guards?

Wait, there aren't guards in hospitals. Are there?

No.

Maybe.

No.

Definitely not.

I take the elevator down to the main floor & walk out the front door. It was easier than I thought to escape from a hospital.

I'm outside & no one is chasing me. I hail a cab & realize my wallet is back at the hospital. This whole thing is crazy, I know.

I arrive at home & pay the guy with some of Sharon's jewelry. Looking around, I realize the living room isn't trashed. & only Sharon's purse & shoes are missing downstairs. Maybe she wasn't taken for ransom.

Again, time to sit down & relax. Not relax, but think.

Last night. Something must have happened last night.

Okay, there was a party. It was a surprise party. Ron, Sue, Burgundi, Jon & a few people from the campus were there.

I'm not that guy who hates surprise parties. Or surprises for that matter. They're great. So, I remember walking in the door a spectacular Friday. All my students  wished me a happy birthday.

The house was dead dark when I walked in & then, KABOOM!

The place lit up. "Happy Birthday!" they all shouted & champagne is thrown my way. All was normal there. I talked to everyone. Had cake & opened my presents. My favorite was the pen/pencil combo.

Then I went outside to the backyard, lit a cigar & watched a silvery, grayish cat scurry along our wooden fence. Night had fallen & the moon was half full.

I can't believe I broke my leg, my arm & stabbed myself in the stomach. I walk back upstairs to change.

Wait.

There's no blood on the stairs. & who called 911?

It's quiet in the house. Too quiet. Someone's here. I'm three steps up the stairs, no point in turning around. The bedroom & office are safe. So are the closets. Under the bed as well.

Relax. Change clothes & relax. It's difficult getting into pants now, but I make it happen.

Back downstairs. The living room, kitchen & bathroom are safe. Okay. Either I don't bleed or something strange is going on. Maybe, Sharon came back & saw me.
But she couldn't be that heartless as to leave me in the hospital alone, could she? Oh no! Maybe she didn't come into the house. Maybe, she really has been kidnapped.

I'm staring at my hand. Noticing the deep & fine wrinkles along with my veins & cuticles. My palms look like satellite images of rivers & microscopic views of capillaries. There is a candy bar on the coffee table. I eat it & instantly feel better.

My head swings back & my body warms & tingles. I close my eyes & see my granpa showing me how to measure & cut wood to turn it into something useful. We're making forms for a concrete pathway from the house to the garden. A blooming garden with peas, onions, spinach & okra. I reach my hand to write my name in the wet concrete & a bee stings me. It hurts for a millisecond. Then the pain moves away. My granpa looks at me from in the garden. Then he hunches over to look at something in the ground. My arms goes numb as I walk towards him. I feel something pulling me back.

I look behind me & see myself unraveling. The threads of my shirt & cast are being unwound like thread from a spool. In a few steps, I'm naked. I keep walking as my granpa shouts my name. I see his mouth moving, but can't hear him. My body feels lighter with every step. I look at my bee wound & find that my hand is unraveling along with my arm & the rest of me. Layer by layer I'm being unwound. I'm down to my nervous system, brain & eyeballs when I open them & see my granpa's face. he's smiling. I'm down to my eyes when I start to look at what my granpa sees.

Time slows & my eyeballs unravel,
leaving me in complete & silent darkness.
Tragedy
2.6k · Apr 2015
Dragons keep promises.
& so I write these words on the flesh of your back. So that when it comes time to hurt, I’ll be there. just enough to soothe you. but hidden enough to cause harm none, thinking on the darker side & it makes hard to swallow. hard to say. whats become of my idea of us. realizing you don’t feel the same & it’s goodbye to the last one. you dont feel the same & it’s goodbye to the last one. taering out the encrypted one . it’s like *******. force it. precipitate. & let mine be yours. there’s room in my eyes for one more. hurt is hurt & Pain brings pride. An abstract painting in a sea of white walls. finding beauty in the errors. seeing pictures in your hair. tasting her in you. pretending. always faking & when I’m sleeping I wake screaming, fearing that someone has found me out, praying they won't cast me down. & so i gave my body to someone to cry on. someone to feel with. someone to let in. don’t tell me that. no, please not in that voice my heart pumps out when you say it like that. woken by the touch of solitude. phantom limbs cut my body deeper. in the gridlike patterns, I paint your face with the blood of my eternal winter. a last summer of adolescence the first fall of adulthood the worst winter of solitude. a gloomy spring of eternal torture. however you say it, it’s going to hurt. in the arms of my angels i cry. releasing my every wound let it flow soft & slow scratching trying to grasp onto reality all im holding is my angels porcelain face. smiling peacefully speaking soft & easily "i love you love you like theres no tomorrow & if tomorrow never comes, sleep with this child, you were loved, once. & that is enough for the long days ahead.” broken by this weight of emptiness. my heart; so dense my body can only orbit round it . nothing to land on its surface nothing to halt this writing mass of broken promises, spit out words, phantom feelings, etc etc etc etc... & please I’m on my ******* knees pleading to you. don’t mind the scars. I’ll cut them out at my own expense. don’t mind my heart, I’ll tear it out if you wish. just one minute. give me one single minute & I’ll show you how you should be loved. but the minute’s up. in me you trusted. hate to tell you, but you should’ve known it all along. I’ll pretend to feel. I’ll pretend to to love but it doesn’t make a difference. & mother, please hold me. tell me all the lies like when i was a child. make me cry, make me feel. mother, please erase this heart. breath of the lonesome & I’m home again. home again, unsupervised, breaking bridges burning ,mirrors. just a child of shame, plastic hearts. so I lie in bed I’ll lie & I cry. telling myself over & over she loves me. she loved me she’ll love me. will she love you can you even understand the connotations that love brings with it? the fragile wings your heart need just to stay clean. Clean my impure soul. They're just physical wounds. Yes, they're meant to shock, but never to distance. Sweet mary I still feel you. morphing my frame into something able to hold your baggage. I say this in spite. I say this in contempt for anyone (including myself) who's kept you up at night. screaming. on the verge of popping their throat out, screaming why? how could you turn your back on a soul so pure? How could you not feel the absolute power of her? I answer, "Because of the other her." *** My true love. The one that, I know won't make it. But, Istill love her. If I have to take her life, so she won't wake on pain, so she she won't realize the potential of ugliness of evertyhing. what am I saying? are these words doing anything? they feel like, they look like, a building. far on the horizon. in front of this blood soaked sun. walking, along this path of whitewashed trees. Lighting another cigarette & breathing in, hoping to feel her. Breathing out hoping to release her. its only stale air though, so when that Icontinue to walk stumble on. into the sea of jesters, their comic touch drowning my shriveled heart. Letting it all out in rage, in pain. The plateau of my hope. I'm saling this sinking plateau & you... you brought so much joy in life. the long walks thinking of you. never breathing, just living off the remnants of your kiss never feeling, just hoping your touch would spare me the pain. the pain of these crippling walks. alone & broken, broken in half, broken for, because this moment. I know my voice is cold but moment I know my voice is cold but my heart is still warm. it still has your hand print. leaving my residue on all of your things. this is how it was meant to be. this is yours forever. your eternal bliss. I’d tell you I love you. but you can't hear me. because of the screaming matches with him. baby, I'll always hear you. I'll always feel you. I'll always need you. *** looking from the bottom, waiting for the top to come down waiting at the top, looking at your picture as I fa;;. all i think of is yhat right now, right now they're going through my everything. taking what isn't theirs. & know they'll nburn the trinkets, stealing ehat has no meaniong to me. but completely ahhihilting manything that made me smile. but its that look in her eyes, that keeps me smiling & god i cant stop miling grandpa ;augh when i told him grandma cried whem i told her. i topld them i w as trtying to find myself. excruciatin pain, indescribable joy & all io have is this? two little scars? Wherever i go, whichever way I turn it's two little scars. My constant variable, ever turning shifting, always traveling. never able to graps onto them . I cannot stopm them. I cannot shake them off wherever I go which ever way i turn its to hide from her. as sad as it sounds i loved them. all of them. & tonight. Oh, tonight I told her, I feel like more/ shockig i kmnow & yes it feels lie it felt. but, jut step back & look at them, Finished, complete sleeping peaeful. The song plays & I cry. I flood this ******* house with all the pursued years of my youth. the song continues & I bleed. i paint these ******* walls with my infantile blood. the song ends & I’m empty a lifeless heartbeat of a man. yes, tonight I feel like meor. *** I can still love though. one more chance, please just watch me. you see? I can do everything he can't just in a weaker state. my heart, but,... cant you see it? I’ve laid if all out for you. baby Ive swallowed razors I've handled guns, all to show you, you're safe with me. you can be misplaced with me. this is your heart. in my hand, beatingpulsing, crying for you. why won't you take it?my hands are clean I swear. flesh painted over the blood of the unjust. Flesh painted over all my scars. Not to lie to you, not for you to cry for. But hide them. To protect you from everything I was. Everything I was along with your heart falling from heaven into that lake of fire. so take the skin off & swim with me. drown in the lake of my heart. forever within me proving love is not made or destroyed. its only been transformed into this picture of lonliness. forever lonesome wanting to feel some new pain. the old pain is getting dull. throw a ratch in to this fore & watch me burn im missing your laugh. I’ll never speak. I dont feel save for you heart warm like you skin the skin that was forever clean. all I do is leave ****** fingerprints over your glowing face. snuffing it out. letting no one else see it. mother hold me. ive gone awat, for the last time. so hold me tight & tell me it'll be fine okay, everything will be fin everything is light. let us pray. thank you father who art in heaven. for yours is coming home, you've watched my little bird fly into hearts only to find there's nothing to feed on deliver him from sin. take this hand oh this and guide him home. *** blackest shadow of the night, walk with me in hopes of making it right. we'll spend eternity walking, waiting for the true friend to come back. she wont though. she'll see you, my shadow and she will run. into the arms of him. a man much colder than I. a man with less limits than I. and they all fake my coming back as a surprise. you ******* new it all along. dont fake getting along. well, this is the night and tell brother not to follow in my steps he's come so far in such few steps. tell him it was her that made me do this. I just think it's ****** up, that I sit alone and they all warm each others bones with awkward slooppy motions. a disgrace to how we felt. off topic & off the wagon. feels good & feels fine. more pain less time. suffocating, wondering, contemplatin is this it? I can hear them. suffocating in your kiss. closing my eyes, I steal the gentle pull of your lips opening them & I see your eyes stealing my every downfall. I can hear you crying out my name & I wake screaming out yours. leaving your mark all over my tender frame. still sore I clutch this pillow tight listening for yopur heartbeat. but it's gone. you've decided he's the one who you'll live with. take all the precautions I made all the necessary actions. all my eeforts useless & futile. *** darkest bottle on the shelf, let's have one night for us. hiding all the notes I wrote her. Just so that in time likes these, I won't melt. So I won't decay. Brightest pill upon my plm, let's have this day feel real. let's make this be right. I have just one more right. one night to make it all light reset my spine. restitch the wound. we'll live without her we’ll obey fathers word lets run away bottle & pill into the night like screaming banshees I dont want to fall this way okay? as for now, no I don't feel anything but the razor's kiss. save for the razors bliss. you'll the only one I cry for . & yes I'm in a nonmood. How should I speek? In the old naive ways? No, I'm in a mood. Nothing here except hidden melodies & threadbare essentials. Bones Blood hair teeth pupils necessary evils love. *** sharpening my suicide technique. the brain to justify why. the heart to sacrifice mine. a tear falls down. leaving a slick trail for more to flood my room. thinking of it all, soaking it in, soothing the pain. I could have neen your christmas toy. sleeping your warm arms. I could have been complete. I could have been me. Total. Unfiltered. But you won't have it. why? answer me that, so I may ***** my existebce. total, unfulfilled. wait. gravity stop your ways. scooping; frantically the blood. placing the folds of skin back in place. vomiting the bleach back into the bottle. trying, desperately to jump back out of the noose. digging, unnecessarily digging for the bullet. but, it's no use, what's done is no done. alone & passed tense. complete & you're his. cutting, just to say I did. injuring, just to see the juice. *** over new ground I tread. no longer scorched earth & red skies. no more ****** crucifixes & broken trees. just pure dirt & white clouds. golden crossed & white brushes. in the fire of my soul rests the clay of her heart, sculpted into the name of the one I love. don't do it Robert. you're forcing ti robert you're going to break me robert. she’s back, but you're gone. cast in a perpetual doom ridden world of lost causes & burnt clauses, sold bridges & bloated fishes. Don't do it Robert. you have no idea what you mean to her. yes. you're forcing it Robert you're going to tear it into a million pieces. you're going to tear those pieces dry. & you're going to do it with no feelings. no guilt. shameless & alone., I pick every last piece of my heart & let it scream into this endless night. *** the power of the pure? the rain pours down, in sheets of white. the sres flare up in colors fo red. the pains move sforth, in wavers of her. have I said the wrong thing have I done the right thing? is it pure enough for you? Does it soothe power for two? If not, tell me, I'll change it. I'll tear this castle I spent decades building, & I'll start constructing shelter for you with memories of her. Playing with fire & she giggles. shaving my heart & mshe moans. keep your heart chained up, we'll need it for the walk home & to see that face again... to smell & taste again... to not feel like waste & sin? May I have more? Just one more tally on this chalkboard of my soul. wipe it clean & ask for more. & you know she lovesshelovesshelovesmeshelovesmmds *** Alone. underneath the stars. waiting. On a bed of velvet. *** mother make me your son again tell me it's all okay in your heart I'll sleep & mothers hands close gently I struggle but not really give me strength for the road ahead give me weight to fall from death let me land in mothers arms make me cry once again let me lie free from sin *** & it slowly comes back words of meaning of something else of someone else? blasphemy not in a satisfactory manner becomes rusty creaking coughing & choking on the very blood it swore to protect the very life of mine it swore to protect everything is gone and I can't help but feel a little colder draining my veins I'm much bolder & I cant but feel it's all going too fast it started with a name & it's become much more & she the joy of her life the joy of our life there will be unanswered questions, but it's alright we'll salt the wounds they have no idea what's at stake I'll polish the razor. one final act. The last chapter in my love for her. Blood makes the words illegible. Forming fragmeneted sentences. Saying it over & over *** waiting. in the blistering heat. between yes & no ****** rags rags & rags doves emerge from this battle leaving me thirsty & confused leaving me thirsty & abused breathing life into fascist symbols leaving marks for the **** razors to follow lashings for the savior washing. just to save her drifting, spiraling against my judgement into the flames of her eyes melting into her soul feeding me lie after lie & I couldn't be happier *** breeding pain from this lifeless song a little faster scared enough to choke on his tongue unable to muster the words confidently dangerous instruments dangerous, don't enter men hold steady. trigger's sensitive. this, her sensitive suicide. this, her suicidal sentiments. boiled churches birth fallen ashes. oh what the **** *** Pain-why does it take over? how come it becomes so unbearable. Love-why is it so much a polar opposite? why is it so good? why, without ,life is so bad? how can I function on my love for love alone? how do people become so broken? is it because of isolated moments? or trauma so personal? the new blood surfaces it rushes in rhythm with my decaying heartbeat & when everything falls will she hold me in her arms? in each others arms we'll fad. into the silence. away from the bright noises. the waves crescend & fall. pounding life into me, desperately trying to revive me. but she drifts on, slowly then slower. Asking myself why? Visiting this island built of broken hearts. Sailing this vessel into it. watching, feeling the blood as it goes up in flames. Nothing ever gets better. Isn't that what you wanted? Is it what you dreamt of? It's not for me. *** I dream of hearts hung by their own arteries. Choking for air. Leaving a sea of endless memories forgotten promises. Always there. Never aware. Faceless ghosts so familiar. I kiss them, every one of them & my soul is stolen, little by little... Caustic Tattoos Caution... & you? Don't come at me with that. You felt it & don't you lie. don't you cry Back at the wake & don't you ******* try. This presence of yours is becoming irritable Warm. Too warm... I've lost all layers. All that remains in a blood soaked, bare ***** frame. For you to hang your every worry. For you to blame all but you. I don't blame you. No, really. I, don't blame you. No really. I don't blame you. ***
Tragedy.
2.3k · Jan 2013
Sailors & Prague
As in cargo ships.
Fear takes pictures below.

My heart inside stone ballasts.
Saving letters.

I burn it down.
I burn it down & walk away.

Correct.  
Ate, now sick.

Years ago fruit grew.
My wound grows skin with wine.

& she burns.
Price payed for pale beauty.

Still alive.
My torch home.

I search for my children
Frozen in winter's grace.
Tragedy
2.0k · Oct 2014
Earrings.
Wake in dirt from bone and copper. 
Collect facts from years ago. 
Remember openings and close those beginning. 
Breathe to fill the day. 
Counting hairs alone. 
 
Float and feel my blood dance else away. 
 
She asks for the gaze as my eyes give focus inward. 

Wrapped in showmanship and loneliness. 

These rings bond and the form begins tumbling. 

Create lift and heal all waters swollen.
Tragedy.
1.9k · Oct 2014
Earrings.
Wake in dirt from bone and copper. 
Collect facts from years ago. 
Remember openings and close those beginning. 
Breathe to fill the day. 
Counting hairs alone. 
 
Float and feel my blood dance else away. 
 
She asks for the gaze as my eyes give focus inward. 

Wrapped in showmanship and loneliness. 

These rings bond and the form begins tumbling. 

Create lift and heal all waters swollen.
Tragedy.
1.7k · Jan 2013
Clay
walking down childish roads
I weep spotting something rotten
a tree

& I wonder before tying my shoes
in a church
guarded by senile eyes
I think to myself
why must I hold
in my fleshy heart
one becomes itself.

& below after years
of walking & soaking
structures & small
soiled gatherers
I see teal stained pages
smeared red, white
with the doings of our past
only needing a page in books
to breed fear in rosy hope.

looking before as a camera wants
we fly into the upward
quickly with enthusiasm
a smile etches our glossy face
& we see me
someone is here on my road
I stay calm
next to me sets the biggest
jaw I have or will see
sure there are greater
in numerous numbers
strange unfathomable flanks
ranking from mine
created from my rust
& our immense patience

seeing or realizing
there are strange silences
between the peace you held.

no I don't care
Tragedy
1.4k · Jan 2013
Stained Glass.
one day we will shed these bodies.
but please know,
the pain & suffering will fade.
he is not unjust in his wrath.
we share the earth, wicked & depraved.
our goal to know him & make him known.
he will not forget your works.
stay true.
stay just.
stay faithful.
to the end.
people lose love & sight when making decisions.
does not become indifference.
asking
what will they do?
what will you do?
ask.

& a cloud of witnesses beyond the bleachers, high above the home team's field.
unaware, where they play, we are waiting for blood. our sixth sense heightens & our visions spread. we are hungry.

in moments we will all taste the gaze.

we feel the thunder overhead.
between each bolt of fury, we trust our new instict.
trusting our new teeth from strange eons ago.
our skin sheds.
& into our shadows we step.
restless as the noise swells & we persist through passion.
flames scream leaving their home below.  
     now calm.
now dead.
our hunger disguised.

& we understand victory.
Tragedy
1.3k · May 2015
Grade A and Grades B.
The south african student. Abroad in the states. A holiday of quotas. This moment, falling into the pools of whole ethics. Difference in bothers. Perception of the receptionist.
Tragedy
1.2k · Oct 2015
Mind Erasers.
Bes



It's high midnight and I'm up to my old tricks again.
Bes came by my apartment last night, ostensibly to see why I've stopped answering everyone's calls but harboring more ulterior motives than a presidential charity event. I let her in, mumbling some vague, ******* excuse about how I'd simply been busy. She stood in my living room, her hands demurely folded in front of her as her eyes swept the scene, a quick appraising glance that took in the leaning towers of paper and rows of empty bottles, the rings under my eyes and the cheeks grizzled with god knows how many days of growth, and when at last they met mine they seemed to ask what exactly it was that I had been busy doing. Her lips said no such thing though, held in check either by innate tact or single-minded purpose. Instead she smiled, that old, slanting smile that was more a twitching of her cheeks than an actual moving of her lips, and asked if I liked her dress. It was the first time that I'd seen her dressed in anything but jeans, and the change was as unexpected as it was becoming. The dress was short, black, simple and elegant in its simplicity. In the expected places it clung to her curves and invited you to do the same, but elsewhere it hung in loose folds, folds so deep that she seemed almost lost in them, and when you did catch a glimpse of her body -the delicate line of her collarbone, the thin ridge of a rib- the force of the contrast struck home with calculated, bewildering power. She looked incredibly fragile yet fraught with danger, like broken glass swaddled in a black flag. I gave her an exaggerated once-over, then said, "Do you really need me to answer that?" She laughed, her voice high and breathy, and dropped me a theatrical curtsy. "What's the occasion?" Her eyes narrowed, and the ghost of a smile twitched its way back onto her face.
"We're going out tonight."
"We are? And why are we doing that?"
"It's ladies' night at Stoa, and that means free drinks."
"Free drinks for you, kiddo. I doubt that I could pass as a lady, even in that ****-hole."
"For me, yes. But if I were to get those free drinks and then decide that I didn't want them, well, what would happen to them? It would be wrong just to waste them, after all. I suppose I should have to give them away, perhaps to a good friend?"
"If you should change your mind." I said flatly.
"Of course. Woman's prerogative, you know."
"Are you trying to bribe me with free liquor?"
"Well, if that isn't enough I could always throw in a 'please'. Limited time offer, though, non-negotiable and nontransferable."
"Unlike the drinks, you mean."
"Rules are like bodies; they aren't meant to be be broken, but sometimes it's fun to see just how far you can stretch them."
"Far be it from me to tell a pretty girl no when she says please."
"Pleeaazzee?" She batted her eyelashes at me, lower lip stuck out in a burlesque pout.
"Okay."
"Put on a fresh shirt and grab your coat, I'll get a cab."
"Yes'm," I said, snapping off a quick salute before about-facing toward my bedroom. She laughed again as she left, the soft chuckles punctuated by the click of her heels on the concrete steps outside. I dressed quickly, taking roughly three minutes to apply fresh deodorant, sniff-test and shrug my way into a shirt with marginally less wrinkles than your average nursing home and grab my keys. I walked out the front door to find Bes ready and waiting for me, having snared a cab with the same brisk efficiency with which she had beguiled me into escorting her. She stood at the curb, toe of one black pump tapping impatiently as the taxi idled next to her, engine panting like some exotic animal brought to heel. The ride there was silent. The cabbie was one of those garrulous specimens of his trade who seem always to have something to offer his customers in addition to the transportation for which they had paid; some tidbit of folksy wisdom, or a sage prediction of the weather, no doubt buttressed with countless examples from the days of yore. He brought out several of these chestnuts for us, but after a few failed gambits even he lapsed into what for him must have passed for a taciturn state, contenting himself with humming along to the radio, albeit loudly. He had sloughed tunelessly through several songs and a commercial break by the time we arrived, and had begun to sing under his breath, apparently unaware that he was doing so. This unwitting serenade had been steadily growing in volume, and he was working himself into a rather heartfelt rendition of Black Velvet as we disembarked.
It was just past eleven, relatively early for a nightclub, but the line was already stretched ten yards from the door. It wound around the side of the building, surprising me in spite of myself. I really hadn't been out in a while, and had forgotten all about waiting outside, that desultory purgatorial period where people shifted restlessly from foot to foot and chain-smoked, anxious for admittance, though in all likelihood less concerned with being able to dance or mingle (which they could have probably done just as well out here) than they were with losing the buzz they had brought with them. Some of the people had clustered into loose groups and those who had looked more sanguine, almost serene, and no doubt there were a few water bottles filled with ***** stashed in their purses and jacket pockets. I started toward the corner, intending to join the rest of the sad-sacks at the back of the line, but Bes grabbed my arm, giving me a slight shake of her head. She walked directly toward the entrance, deftly sidestepping the little pockets of people and putting on a smile of almost predatory brilliance. She sauntered up to the bouncer posted at the door, one of any number of interchangeable drones whose charge is to prevent just such flouting of protocol as she undoubtedly had in mind. She said something to him and he shook his head. She spoke again, raising up on tip-toe and looking directly into his eyes, and when she spread her hands in a comely now-do-you-see gesture he looked around furtively then nodded. She waved a hand at me and he nodded again, though more apprehensively than at first, and the hand pointed in my direction now wiggled its fingers in a come-hither gesture. I walked up and looked a question at her but she merely shook her head again, though this one was accompanied by a slight smile that said nothing and hinted at everything. She took my hand, dragging me forward like a she-wolf dragging a rabbit into her den, and as we passed into the club she favored the sentry with another smile, so warm that I could have sworn I saw him blush.
The interior was dark, cavernous and redolent of a thousand mingled perfumes, a heady, dizzying blend spiced here and there with the dank odor of marijuana. As soon as we were past the bouncer, Bes stopped and pivoted on her toes like a ballerina, spinning so quickly that I almost stumbled into her. She said something to me then, but despite the sudden and shocking proximity of her body to my own her voice was lost in the car crash of voices from the dance floorahead. I cupped a hand to my ear in the commonly understood signal for deafness, and she responded by cocking her head at a questioning angle and forming an elongated y with her thumb and pinky finger, tilting them toward her lips in the universal gesture for drinks. I nodded my assent and she took my hand again, pressing it gently as she threaded her way through the tumult of writhing flesh on the dance floor. We found seats in the corner of the bar, the one place where you could actually sit with your back to the wall instead of the rest of the club, a place that I privately thought of as Paranoiac's Cove. I dug out my pack of Lucky's and set to work on trying to find my lighter as she flitted away, returning moments later with a pair of highball glasses, each filled to the brim with a curiously green concoction that was so bright that it seemed almost as though the glass was filled with liquid neon. She handed me one, her fingers momentarily brushing mine as I accepted it, visions of the cauldron from Macbeth flashing briefly through my mind. That smile twisted its way onto her face again as she offered a silent toast, raising her glass toward me with an oddly solemn gesture. I raised mine in return, noticing the way her eyes sparkled in the shadows, green and impossibly bright, almost lambent, bright like the drink though her eyes were a deeper, truer green, closer to jade than to the grassy color we held in our hands. We touched their rims together, the clink almost inaudible in the howling bedlam of the club. She threw her drink back at a single draught, surprising me into a laugh and I followed suit, barely tasting the liquor as it ran down my throat. What I did taste was a rather poor attempt at artificial apple, cloying and somehow thick, like melted jolly ranchers. It was saccharine sweet yet bitter, a harsh undertone that matched the crisp tang of a real granny smith about as well as the sweetness did, which is to say not at all. Not that this bothered me; alcohol and bitterness have always gone well together for me.
She leaned over to me, fingertips resting lightly on my shoulder, breath tickling confidentially in my ear as she asked, "Dance with me?"
I demurred, not bothering to waste words but simply waiting until she pulled back to look at me and then shaking my head. She didn't lean in again, catching my eyes instead and mouthing the word with an exaggerated care that was almost comical. "Okay." She hesitated momentarily before adding, "Maybe later." She didn't wait for a response, instead sliding off her stool with easy, doe-like grace and disappeared into the throng. I stayed at the bar for some time, an hour perhaps, drinking steadily and watching the growing chagrin of the woman behind it as she realized that I had not intention of tipping her no matter how drunk I got. Bes reappeared periodically, staying long enough to grab each of us a free shot and steal one of my cigarettes before vanishing again. I whiled away the time by counting the necklaces that came bobbing and heaving up to the bar. The vast majority were crucifixes, their forms and sizes as varied as those of their bearers, but there was a smattering of other ikons as well; Celtic knots and stars of david, pentacles and hammers, and once, nestled incongruously in the ample and expertly showcased cleavage of its wearer, a crescent moon and star. The owner of that particular pendant also happened to clutch a drink in one hand, and while it may have been a shirly temple or club soda, the glassy eyes above it and the boneless, disjointed movements that arm described in the air spoke to a more potent brew. I wondered what they meant to the people who wear them, those chains of devotion donned voluntarily. A symbol of their faith, they would probably say, though it's a faith betrayed by virtually every action that they take, and if there's one thing that I've learned about people it's that their vows and promises may be lies, but their betrayals never are. Even a virtuous act, an act of unequivocal good in the face of overwhelming temptation, even that can be a lie. It is concealment, a denial of the temptation, of its reality, of the fact that the desire for what tempts us exists. But in betrayal, in succumbing to temptation, people reveal themselves, for they are true to their desire and desire is the most accurate mirror, the truest reflection of who we are. Most people wear masks to cloud that mirror, false faces that sometimes fool everyone and sometimes fool no-one. But truth always asserts itself and so most people betray; others, causes, even themselves. But even the betrayal of self is also an act of honesty, the final acknowledgement of who we really are.
There was a time, of course, when these signs and symbols of faith were a business of deadly seriousness, when their betrayal would have begotten swift and sure punishment, when the mere display of one's allegiance was both a pledge and a challenge, but no longer. Now they are carried as casually as their wearers carry the name of some obscure fashion designer on their underwear, and given the reverent attention paid to the latter and their blasé hypocrisy regarding the former, one has to wonder which is really more important to them. Yet the symbols persist even when the meaning has been forgotten, and the majority still carry signs of fealty formed from counterfeit gold and beaten nickel, sigils that flash quicksilver in the strobing lights, leading the way like the wooden maidens which adorn the prows of ships. I used to have one of them, you know, a rough loop of rawhide the carried three little trinkets, a bunny a book and a small golden heart. It's gone now, of course, and fittingly so, the heart having fallen after the bunny down the rabbit-hole, and the book remaining unwritten, though I suppose if your reading this, that if these disjointed ramblings ever manage to make it onto the printed page, refugees finally transplanted from the wilted notebooks or the cocktail napkins that I even now sit scribbling madly on, it has been written after all and you're reading it. You poor *******.
I realized my thoughts were drifting, meandering on their own down paths that I have expressly forbidden them to tread, rambling like unsupervised children in an amusement park at sundown. I gathered them up, scolding them, trying to exert some authority in my own mind, telling myself to just take a deep breath and shake it off. I can't though, and for once it's not because I can't quiet the thoughts but because I can't seem to take a breath that is deep enough. I realized that I was panting, well nigh hyperventilating, my breath coming in quick, shallow gasps that seem to crystallize in my longs like spun glass. I take stock of myself, trying to assure myself that I'm not going to have a heart attack or a ******* stroke, noting with some alarm that my hands are shaking and my vision has narrowed into a twisting, undulating tunnel. I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing, the darkness behind my eyelids streaked with purple and red, and gradually I became aware that those explosions of color are rhythmic, recurrent. They happened not with the pounding of my heart, as I would have expected, but in time with the music, sunbursts of color appearing each time the bass kicked. The panic diminished, replaced by curiosity, and I realized that without the shrill yammering of panic in my ear and the terror of impending death in my mind, the combined sensations are not only pleasant, but oddly familiar. It's then that I realized what happened, belatedly doing the mental arithmetic and realizing that unexpected invitation, the free drinks and the first's oddly bitter taste, the secretive smile with which it was delivered, that it all added up to a single thing. She drugged me, of course, spiked my drink with something and I didn't even notice, naive as a sorority pledge at a keg party, and oh **** was I high. I stayed at the bar, knowing from hard experience that there was no sense in fighting it, and so giving in to it. If you can't put out the fire you might as well feed it, feed it all that you can, because the sooner the fuel runs out the sooner the fire dies. So I stayed there, focusing on my breathing and letting my thoughts spiral out, catching the waves in my head as they rose and fell, finally learning to float on their crests, in some semblance of control. Calmer now, I pulled out my cigarettes and lit one, the process taking an eternity, empires rising and falling in the time between the moment when the spark caught and the flame exploded into life and the one when it reached my lucky. I breathed out a plume of smoke, a pillar of cloud that also seemed to go on forever, and as it cleared there was Bes, materializing out of the smoke like a Cheshire cat.
"Ready to dance?"
I looked at her, unable to speak for a moment, not the drug this time but something entirely, a thing that came surging up from some unsounded depth within me and caught in my throat, because when I looked in her eyes, wide and wet with excitement, her pupils telescoped into pinpricks that told me she was in the grip of the same I saw myself. Because she was looking at me the way I looked
Tragedy
1.2k · May 2015
Hershey.
The last transmission.
I've burned my oldest friend.
All of these numbers are lonely.

You say,
all of this heat is smothered.
And for me to lift and never be able.
Crawl around the back and shine your light to bring again the wake.
And there is no one digging.
There are no hills for you to sever,
Every land you raise will settle.
A camouflage stain slowly in the forest.
Starting with Jung, staying quiet with few hopes of weapons.
Feel the vague spectacle.
Beyond your scope.
The sun draws mistaken.
A lie for the evening.
This is no warmer.
This is not you leaving.
Tragedy.
The farmer and the poet walk side by side. 
The wind is blowing and with every grain of sand approaching their skin, the kettle moves closer to boiling. 
The farmer with his miniature mule in his palm sweeps in motion with his other hand, the one with golden rings and chewed nails. 
He shows the poet that the land must be toiled. 
And sweat must mix with blood to form meaning to one's life. 

The farmer combusts into ashes over the poet and the untouched bloodless ground. 

There is no anxiety. 

The poet and the glassblower walk hand in hand, shoulders pressed closer, finding rhythm in each other's differences. 
Warmth and love shine from their portrait. 

And the poet thinks as he walks. 
The thoughts collapse and the glass blower breaks into sheets. 

Furthermore into jagged shards and then, into pieces too small for a human eye to see. 

With each step the poet contains his winces and his groans. 
Walking his every step, a moment closer to suicide. 

I'm aware this is temporary. 
The solution is permanent. 
Stay as permanence, pouring as warm oil from the eternal lion's mouth. 

I grow uncomfortable. 
Distance yourself and twist language. 
Pull yourself together.
Tragedy
1.2k · Nov 2014
A boastful.
He's wearing my favorite shirt. 
And he speaks in tones of peppered loss and rageless loss. 
The claws click against the veranda's shade. 

His pockmarks glow in the reflected dew. 
So quietly announcing the sun's stretches and it's yawn. 

They arrive, my fast continues. 

Beneath the grounded carpet,
The ***** brings me towards the river. 
The color green surrounds me, my reflection quite to speak. 
I stop to look above and see the black clip of flight. 

I look to the paper and begin to finish. 
The ink runs out as I enroll in the water's treatment.
Tragedy
1.1k · Oct 2016
Hurricane Matthew
Hurricane Mathew

I ask a third or fourth time,

When is it supposed to hit?

I ask

one second time later

But it's the

New day

Not a one

And not a

crucial
piercing

blue day




A simple tiny little
                    You
Day


Reformat

My mind from memories


Thinking then

Then the thought

making steps
a bit more pleasant

Healing the try and burning the gauze

For a brighter

(And th3n)

purified future

The outcome father,

Has me quoting melodies
Closing my eyes

So that now I am seeing

My childhood's house burn


I chew the candy now


Pink...

... moving lobes


Moving...


the boys scratching your newly
(Insert ****** possibly insectuous) painted siding

And that wasn't remembering



That was
   (Or is it now)

Over and over
And it's over

Oh so oh oh


I mix my mediums

You've made a mistake



I mixed my mediums


Betrayed by blood magic



A sequence of sounds

The pen

A barn

And my
((And mine alone))

Crystallization

.

I wondered once
And surfed

I lied once
And shivered

I woke up
And spoke once

A pool of blood
((Nurses telling you))

It's a lot of blood

And the drummers shake

My death

My . .


I wish to say
My pen leaks


Wish and pray because of Saturday

So today I stay
  


   A madman

Oh...

so

mad
Man


Breathe wind breathe .

Breathing.

Win.

Win but breathe.


The shorter term breeze


And you'd say (I hope)


There he goes again.


Argh she blows.

Again.


And I continue this


A death without

A death  tasting oh but so foul


Picture me as I stay asleep


A microphone's pop

Ad

And the sweetest feeling of kissing me

Not knowing

I cramp too soon

And I hide
bug poison
In my thinning hair


But what is that?


Virulity is

And power....


And all of this....


It is abracadabra

It is alakazam.


Life is a few minced words..
Tragedy
Another day, another night.
You say their debt outweighs their death.
Logic dispels the search through trash and mildewed lore.
Makeup runs and your choices stay.
Becoming much thinner now yes?
The air is unintelligible.
These things will last.

Abandoned not loved, the fate of your newest choice;
a most crystalline series of poor choices, calculated missteps and those carefree mistakes.

Like the smoke flown from your lungs over the roof of neon discotheque.

Either/or.

You smell of spoiled treasure.

Move past the decay, past perfumes and powders.
There is you, skeletal and shaking on a small bed in the middle of a dark place with a hint of light all around you, shadows form on the edge, the mythos surrounding your empty head, but never bending to enlighten you.
Stay still.
Tragedy.
1.1k · Dec 2012
My Wound. & a truth.
Forgive me xxxx. I can still react harshly when my tender heart is stained.

My love for you was beautiful, but it was also tiring. Finally, exhausting. You broke my sane timbers & I collapsed. I have no desire to speak to you presently. Earlier yes. Yes, I wanted you. I wanted you sexually. & your warm sleeping body breathing on mine. In the near future, I will want you again. I want more. You want more & deluding yourself will be unhealthy. Lord knows your love tired me. Constantly I loved you, proving every day how much & then, taking back when you were scared. Lifting you, laying you down. More & more, giving into your jealousies & rewarding your efforts with mine. You are my other half. Shrine, I sense you walking, stumbling, waking & dying. Xxxx, we need to change. Your search for agape will fail & you be consumed quickly if you are not cautious. Step back or stop walking. Look up, then down. Then tell yourself down is the new up or vice versa. **** you xxxx. I want you. I want you to be happy & want you with me. Now or later, in any way or any form. Even if you were broken or hideous, tortured beyond repair & useless to anyone, you'd be loved by me. Happy, xxxx. You would be happy with me. Your goals & dreams & strange desires. All are welcome xxxx. You are welcome in my life at any time. I have shown you before, I will risk anything for you. I will give anything to you. You will have anything from me. & if it is not me, then be in love. Love will find you. If you do not find me, love will come to you. Do not search, do not force. I feel these are true words. I see you & what you are. I've seen your rise & fall.

So, tonight will be a quiet night. Wake me if need be. Me talking to you is not the same as you talking to me. Feel no guilt becoming from him to me. Once upon a time, it was you I adored.
Tragedy
1.0k · Dec 2012
Excerpts from Kiko Two
The curse. Kiko had forgotten temporarily.  

Long ago, his family spoke of a curse.

From a lover's wound.
Some say she was born in the air.
Her parents were of the sky.
& unspoken infidelity led to her birth.
When she was born, she fell from her mother's womb tumbling down to the ground.
Her mother ripped life's cord from her belly, fighting her infant child as they fell.

The daughter found love & devoured it quickly.
A fury of passion & promises broke with secrets held.
Tinted with momentary happiness & dwellings of depression.
Everything love was supposed to be, she had. & everything the master told of her love she felt.

She ate her lover.
Devoured first his soul & ground his bones into powder.
Charred his handsome flesh & played with his muscles.
She pasted his muscles together with the soup of his bones.
His soul became her mask.
She loved her lover.
Guilt washed over for this new ******.
& thus born, with her carnage, a new identity.

She was void of Death. Death had not seen her born & was blind to her life.
Kiko
989 · Jul 2015
Pegasus.
Your receipts with hints of a past life.
Now drooping & crumbling.
Your dresses, tighter here, looser there.
Stilettos scraping, leaving liquor over the wet cement.
A million times before.
Yelling, crying, asking & asking.
A million girls before.


Special to you.
Your eyes, Cheshire.
Your grin wicked.
This is wicked.
Insert the sweat filled setting.
This calf muscle, unattended.
An ear loosened, not for distribution.
Much too close to his helmet.

Impossible changes.


This wave familiar.
Step backwards.
Its beauty secret shared.
Begging & pleading wild ocean.
On Earth I've learned all things you held & sold.
Dropping receipts & cowering behind dumpsters.


Forced by your bitter guide, they'd tell me.
Maybe just not enough.
Tragedy
929 · Nov 2014
Make sure for rest.
From the north military trail,
A purchase escorts with purpose. 
Compassion leaks from wires. 

A newlywed smile. A pair in ecstasy,
acknowledging a departure with time soon enough. 
Eighty year salutations. 
Twenty year questions. 

There is. 

Core drilling in Paris. 
Exodus. 

Wearing glasses 
underwater. 

My time is now
finished.
Tragedy
896 · Dec 2012
Jean
itself, her love is unmoving
desire traps them into quiet
corners, melting.
                 above her
children shriek & fidelity tests
the concrete unnoticed,
framing her
& her flame flickers cool
electricity
starving Athens.
among studies of future changes &
plans ancient.

their future lays infertile.
ahe wants & she fools
he,
waits impatiently & the nails
spiral into the walls severing
ancestral barriers & children
so young.
Tragedy
866 · Jan 2015
A flimsy circuit.
I am kissing you again.
And ******* into jars again.
My deft eye calculates.
And the lazy one sleeps.

Goodbye.
My sweet little muse.

Was it not enough?
Or too much?
Tragedy.
860 · Oct 2015
Autum and Her Overdose.
It is Hell for you.
I'm told to stay.
You have lips near my neck.
A season so known for rest.
Feeling free without appetite.
A human man without a brother.
Without a womb to cradle.
I'm unloved by your father.
I'm alive.
It is a slow descent.
Rest easy knowing your noose is pulling me down.
Tragedy
852 · Oct 2015
we collect their virginity.
Julia sways in the same Winter, losing an up hill battle of deep seated Calvinistic virtues and the excitation of *******.
@@@ Julia goes on weekend holiday with her parents in hopes of losing her virginity in some square of Savannah.
@@@ Julia packs a bible, hoping to burn it in a symbolic rite of passage.
@@@ Julia packs a doll, hoping to drop it from a rocky bluff, post de flowerization, a highly political and artistic statement.
@@@ Julia packs the lucky strike cigarettes she took from the family gardener years ago, saved for her first post coitus cigarette.
@@@ Julia fiddles with a razor in her parents washroom. Breaking a piece and tucking it in her fingernail, as she read once that prostitutes do.
&&& Julia plans to draw blood in her ******; the man or men severing herself from the responsibility of a ***** & she severing her skin as tribute to a new brokenness.
@@@ Julia fantasizes her flower's loss to be on a rich man's bed with one or two plainly handsome sons of a rich man.
@@@ Julia desires the experience to be ******, seething with heat and violence.
@@@ Julia prays for this chaos, to shed her modest and humble skin, to become a quiet ***** in this painful flash of light.
@@@
tragedy
846 · Dec 2014
Swell.
This is going to be a midnight night. 

With dreadful favoritism. 

With the rose of my prayers, I stray. 

Part away, you new love that could not.  

Love her. 

Melody, please the Fates. 

Ask away. 

Bring me to a shame forgotten.  

Go back. Get them back. 

The friends I held in such short quarts. 

The ones of supple innocence. 

The traps stooping to bring us fools into innocence. 

Please perform your interlude. 

Release every moment and place me on a blue altar. 

Whisper tonight. 

I've destroyed your creation. 

I missed and your plans are crumbling. 

Which is worse. 
To say they fell?

Or to tell you they are falling?

You love with me tonight. 

No more?
Tragedy.
821 · Dec 2012
A grim misadventure.
I taste rapture in your lips & feel nirvana flood our spines.

A stack of bone lit fire & this day ends, today I should try,
to see into the future,
something waits for you inside, reach in & find your comfort.
Drink heavy & dance, a warm nose carving mistakes into your once supple face.

Leave it alone & cry. Leave it alone for my sake.
Call me from the basement's line.

Save the words

& a change of tone.

a change of pace.

_Oh, dear gods,

we came so close & stand so far,
from that glorious fountain,
from that glorious superstructure of
love & tainted fate.

Stay close & I'll recite gorgeous tales of defeat.
I will
paint your face with the shame of those forgotten,
not in a lonely way
& this is not
the only way to stop these rhymes
of

once again

hearts torn,

one heart torn, turning forever
sleeping on the floor,
wishing your blood flowed through me.

open veins to shreds.
grab me, taste me.
bound by chains.

once undone,
these thoughts shouldn't be should so heavy,
moving my fingers in time with you.

whisper, oh I'm crazy.

But in this world,
in this
dear,
sweet
perfect world,
where you & I
sit
& sing
& commit your face to memory.
Holding on to you.
in you, my flame burns bright,
this pace grows dark as the wet woods cry in rhythm,
thinking of me,
old,
their hearts still racing for me.
their souls transport all loss &
their souls transports heat.

If only I was your source.

If I was your only source,
of light

of shadow & pain

of a perfect metronomic

never ending sometimes;

you'd pass happy.
you'd know defeat,
victory & all forms in between.

& looking back I sense there are words sealed tight,
dates forgotten & stories sans ink.
sometimes,
oh my sweet beautiful muse.
There is a shadow & there is a child
& there is a window
& there is a lord to call upon
when nightmares grab tight
& bullets fly close to this heart
desperation glides across these strings
& a voice is born,
snuffed,
buried
& forgotten in all but me.
killing the self,
waiting for the bars to bend
& waiting for the structure to dissolve.

A ghetto grown & producing
infinite
words &
mistakes.

Clear up my past,
discontinue
& continue to
work on these studies,
take all in stride,
a slow,
pain filled walk.

As mentioned, we came so far,
so close
& retired our passions.

So we ask
how do we die?

& when will we know?

& this change of tone brings

a change of pace.

I feel alive,
I behold what's in it,
what's grabbing
& shaking my soul,
which is,
listening to this power.
Tragedy
Afflicted he sways. 
He tells me this. 
Then his ears bleed. 

Again, she's coming. 

He too is there. 

Under the cover of tequila I slipped and moved into your shoes. 
The burning sensation and the multiple *******. 

So, alone I will move. 

This is proving difficult. 
To take this heart and find the metrics necessary. 
This liquid has no geometry. 
These coughs are nothing syptomatic. 

My throat it will bleed. 
And then I will sleep. 

Again the fluid makes its own level. 
So when the pens are counted and the ounce is shortened, feel comforted. 

This gesture. 
Pointing towards a technology. 

Become the theater. 
Be the vessel of integrity. 

Oh 
we see 
your stitches bursting

and

we hear you mumble unholy lamentations. 

I offer myself discipline. 
And to you I portray daffodils. 
Or a primrose if this act does not resonate. 

Applaud yourself. 
For asking is cause ways for approval. 

This is all wiped away. 

The storms so angry and fully misunderstanding their torment blew rebirth. 


And now the trains stop too frequently. 
The continental steel divide is voiceless. 
The more powerful elements;

Clicking of tongues. 
Wagging of yellowed fingers and floppy tails. 

Open your ballot so they may steer your children's fate. 

All I wrote of now belongs to you. 
My every step covers me in unapproachable clouds. 

Silvery leaves in the forest. 
All laying down, nestling my head. 

As depressed waters. 

Discipline here. 
On this barrier of shadow, light and shadow. 

I meant to change the tapes. 
Giving this entity a broader palette. 

The classics, they just screech when inspected. 
My gazes of the house divert down to my feet. 
Its contents remained. 
Holding still and lingering with hares be. 

But I have changed. 

I kept myself with company and forgot the stories and lessons. 

So you see, your raising is now just a sad story left to burn. 

I move my feet over, not onto the tarmac. 
Gliding into the private jet and spreading my legs for these buttery levers and cartons. 
Behold the cranes and doves toiling and rising in my heart. 

Soon to drown in the acidic memories your voice is offering. 
With the push of a button I destroy your misdirection. 

The afterwards is nothing. 


Searing pain from his shadow!
How wholely I am burned by this flare from across the river. 
A touch on my shoulder and there are not enough concubines to drown my anguish. 

Display your show of strength. 
Sit with me and listen. 
It is best for us both. 


Cotton picking. 
Leathered eyes searching for currency. 
The wait outweighs the risk. 
Be honest. 
They are lying and you knew. 
Shake my hand. 
Make it mine and learn the importance of minutes. 

Trip over me as I capture this moment with your flailing aperture. 

Your head straight and your spine back to normal strength. 

Masters. 

The old emperors in comfortable clothes full of invigorating erections. 

Be tasteful with your removing a. 
Leave the droppings and soak in as much as you can. 

Who am I, young skinwalker?

Remove this part and hear his sufferings no more. 

Some lady sheds for the rest.

Southern mortars and northern pestilence. 

You should do something today. 
And stray from the strange. 


Bring your mountain stick and walk. And this is the third of your final lines. 
This, the second. 
And this is the last of you.
Tragedy.
774 · May 2016
Grow sacred erection.
Marriage license.
The smallest finger removed Darling.
Without grotesque wine.
Her ring sparkling, yes a note received.

I can take myself away from the falling away.

Why am I waiting to pull my lungs from the water?
Not nearly pale enough nor clean enough.
And the sun, it shines.
In the same brick school or something closer, more similar.
Stuttering or am I not?
Do not respond overwhelmed.
Something is different.
These are no the things I want to hear.
Give me that picture you carry.
Or just tell me I'm worth it.
Tragedy
The flattening of this moment. 
Hesitation pulls by and the years fill this second. 
The asphalt opened by the recent pattering burns our noses. 
In this coffin of olfactory citizenship, the town's halls are burnt. 

I am asked by the labels of stewardship how my knot is. 
My response multiple times heavies is the same, it is a question. 

My mind, behind the glass left behind in your watching, our gaze ritualized. 
But now forgotten, our love, now torn, our complete identity hidden, pulled away,set alone as the flu pushes it's way towards iur meals. 

Your intestines will **** down. In irritation, you open yourself for infection. 
The ants begin their flood. 
Bereft this skyscraper. 
And with them, my years of servitude, past, future and present. 
My future of, stripped away. 

Visions of my hands clasping the aluminum and moving the volume closer to its max. 

And this is gone as you begin to bubble. 
Inprisoned in your pearl green coffin. 

Your ears balloon and your eyes sink further into your skull. 
The air is not completely escaped the vessel grounding you. And transporting your cell's cessation onto more fertile ground. 

And I have lost you completely. 
I have questioned your love for me and I burn now. 
Spittle falls to my Oxford as I ponder my future.  

To move you as sworn. 
I. 
To say I love you. 
To move forward and forget all. 

To recognize the coal's glow. 
And to cover them, forgetting their resonance when combined. 

I will push this lie further into my future. 

You. 
Radiating tan. 
Covered with the sliver of silk. 
Red with the corpses of lives more exotic when crushed and heated. 

Did something happen? Was the cause your own?
Or a drunks from long before?
A shard of glass from the struggle of some prior Saturday?

I can't stop drinking. 
I dress in blacks and browns. 

And greys. 

The terrible muddled cover of a color neither masking nor portraying my innocence, my shame. 

Much hotter, I am told. 
The depths are. Ur I got away all concepts of torture. 
A new anguish from the ashes. 
Without absolution. 

Convicted that the cog's smoothness is a feather in the wind. 
I step into Time's antiquated machine and perform the rituals to spark its engine. 

The combustion, neither burns clean. Or soiled. 
It tells no story of the future I will hold. 
My rings burn in its power and my teeth chatter in the when-after. 

Hello mother. 
Brother. 
Lover. 

You. 
You who are bones. 
You who is the primordial soup. 
With ever hatching infant eyes. 

The most difficult part of the cold is not knowing what is dry or what is wet. 

Be it these eyes or this heart of mine. 

I transform and hide no longer. 
When my answer is given, the answer is;

"Which?"

Ourselves or the wounds she'd obtain?
Epic Tragedy.
767 · Dec 2012
32 (missing)
I did not know the men from far.
each holding a clear mask as I was
driven down the now common road.
I knew the habits of souls like these.
impairing the land.
blameless in its lushness, these boys,
I learn now,
were hired to consume.
properly; with all items
& inhabitance spawned in desolation,
there are no mistakes made.
there could never be flared tempers,
or indignant stares, whispers of mutiny
or treason.
& a lack of profits are concepts
hoarded by other lands.

their tasks became habits
& tolerance replaces my strength
as an infection settled.

one
stretching my jaw,
piercing my tongue
& erecting fences inside my skull.
I learned to love the sloth
& loathe my confidence.

quickly beauty sets & confusion fades.
the road held nothing as did the scars,
laid down by special souls ages or seconds ago.
Tragedy
The crowbars are counting on me to save.
You're leaving me angry now.
This bottle of bleach is going to take me low.
Lower. Lover.
Vanish into the holes of my skin.
Trapped below the scars you've caused.
Skin it all. Regrow with plant life.
The pharmacy disasters.
Tattoos on the throat.
Room enough to bloat.
one three five.
four five six.
The doctors are counting on me to live.
You've listened to my favorite songs.
Listening. Living.
Vanquished into the heart of my heart.
Protruding little by little now.
Soak it up. Renew with your tears.
Definitely now.
The hospital's procrastinators.
I'm keeping my word. But the rest you can have.
Tragedy
751 · Apr 2015
Miscarriage
And we'll never know if blue was the correct choice.
We'll never know if pink were a suit better.
I'd never known there was a choice of color had I not caught your grey eyes marked in purples and blacks.
There is much red now.
In the toilet bowl.
On the tiled floor.
Finding its way into my veins and sight.
So tell me, with all these unkowns where lays truth and love?
In his bed or mine?
Do you dream of gold teeth?
Do you dream of replacing your own?
Someday this day will pass.
Someday this anniversary will pass.
And a moment waiting will emerge, staying your wrists from some razor's call.
I pray the dates melt and fade.
I pray the memory of you twirls away, spilling over the claw foot's edge, into oblivion.
Tragedy
730 · Dec 2014
Dearest Prudence.
No no no.
Please do not leave me.
Keep your eyes closed.
With mine.
Taste from cups of horrors.
The angular rotting flesh.
Take the mean street to visit Bach.
Lay your head and pound your chest.
Well from below.
And saints on deathbed.
I'm tearing down a wall.
Staring at a stillness.
The florist from the sun.
You're breaking your back.
And the crowd sings of unison.
Trumpets.
Peace filled holdings.
Grass in a locket.
Remove your mirrors.
Youth, grow old and free us.
From your peace of yesterday.
The lake is raised.
The sun is stained.
Ruined.
Watching from a funeral.
Cry in the morning.
And sleep on the evening.
Hold close a breeze for a blanket.
Bend and lead.
Sleeping by the intercom.
While you graze and worship me.
Not yesterday.
God.
I know you wanted love.
The twelve dollar stain flickers in my mind.
The walk home and the creaks in his heart.
Dreams of litigation.
Night's separation.

A reality in between.
Tragedy.
726 · Dec 2012
Scotland. (missing)
Scotland lives!
yet I pass unnoticed.
with my ferns & cartons of smoke
in Virginia.
my grave is dug.
digging.
my tombstone carved upon
& my legacy floats eternally.
& my legacy spins idly.
until she,
or one like her,
walks & stumbles.
over my roots, yet below them,
I smile.
Death grabs her & she's nodding
softly,
"Yes.
I'm ready."

"I'll go alone."

decide who's not, yet always will.
they called
Tragedy
Behold.
The cup is full my love.
My ribs are now held close.
With silk so tender and nameless.
And your lips newly plumped.
Your skin perfect finally.
Pore less.

Take these paper memories, these fragile moons, break them for our bed.
Our perfect rest. A final mistake. 
Fear for the future. The past is not to come. 

Forever leathered throats and close knit bones. 
Drink tonight. 
It is only a carton away. 
The death of your insecurities. 

You drive by and smell the rot. 
By the creek, the timbers never cured. 

Forget the trees lining your sunset. 
Drink. Allow your beach to rise as you fall. 
Refresh again. 

Someone else. 
Peel away the layers and remove your face from this haunting. 
Step outside into the night's cold brilliance. 

Scream. 
Allow yourself to wake. And pretend for a pence that this is it. This is light. 
With your back against the ceiling. 
And again my eternity, with your back against the quilt. 
Sweat and tremble, awake in you what stayed weak. 

Control emotion in the room, wait for the paint to dry. 
A cold abyss grown darker with these moments at work. 
These hollows of warmth. 

I'm directing this and you are arriving with sickness. 
Just a puzzle eternal now. 
A walk on the beach chasing sand. 
Waiting for dust. 

Scream.
Tragedy.
704 · Jan 2015
Company of airports.
Those saying they gave all gave nothing. 

No one knows she's crying for me. 

With trashhbags spilling from their pockets, the children weep as the men enter their silent temple. 

With potatoes in their hands and bricks on their heads, the women wait for the husbands. 

As priests they exit. All normal patterns again. 

I will separate these teeth from your heart as you scan my newest story. 

I've lost your wonder. Why everything is the same as it was remains a mystery. 

Why these eyes, this heart of mine, why not hers?

Hate simmers. Nothing cooks below. 

One more tin of cream. One more song repressed. A wife with her matchbook terrors. Skin pale, coupons clipped to save heart the extraneous cost. 

Out of the door the lesbians begin their drinking games. 

Smile of mine tell me more meets the eye. Look at the hearts and the pressing of its meats. 

Rearrange the peelings. 

Masculinity transmits over the air. I use this time to soften my bellly. 

The noose catches fire. His tears dousing the freedom. 

First date at theater. Curtain call, begin Love's Final Act. 

The death of you in pieces against rocks. 

Reading for signs of traumatized marrow assuming it is not. 

Warnings of obsession and secrecy as I pollute the sabretooth's mouth. 

My vacation shortened. Flying and seeing the dreams of next time whipping past. 

Coarse hair on my tongue. Trails of you when I speak. 

When will you fade? Love is dead. Let it pass. 

The figure and the ridge shake me. Alone counting how the years have not healed this scar. 

A day. And then a night erased from memory. 

While he speaks I'm told to stop sending letters. 

May the lines become thinner. The hush universal. 

A quiet time. Seen in the sun for the first time. 

Continue reading of deeds snared by Karma. 

Restore yourself for my benefit. 



And so this is the poison she poured into my ears:

 whisper whisper kiss. 


Of the poison what is there holding the vials together?

Machine cut squares knowing the curves of her *******. 

Pressed, brushed to perfection. Where is the warmth beyond the warmth?

Not the glow of nocturnal furnaces. The pressing of skin to the belly of coals. 

Only a mask hiding tears from the public eye. 

It is what you seek. 

Ignite me and marvel alone. 

Explain my scars to me in final excitement. 

On one shoulder I collect the rain. My other brings the spillings. The pool at my feet dries, gathers flies. 

My eyes never closed. My muscles began to shiver and this is all that can be said of last year. 


This year will be dosed heavy with dreams. 


The telephones will soon empty thief wife's of our conversations. 

New dust and **** will cover the bricks our hands feathered over. 

Plates we consumed our dreams on will break, become clean and discarded with the closing of cafe doors. 

You dying and older. Increasing desire. Your basket full of fruit. Your soil toiled in the night. Roots taken, their precious hollows filled. 

Damaged Boardwalk. Mussels cracked, pearl less by design or circumstance. 

Fake both hope and love. Slip away in the pilings of some Ferrari. 

The ash of your candle. Where is it now?

So close to the sea. Yet these stains remain. 

Burn or transgress. Your stones sink in my heart. 

An open letter since birth. 

The barge floats. The operators celebrate the river's damming. 


May you hear my tears in your happy silence.


Just a leaf in the sidewalk. Talks of saplings vanished in the processing. 

Here together in the colder air. 

Forgetful muse, run. Steal their wrestling's warmth. 

The swell beckons. We've yet to share this drink. 

Taste yourself on this raw plate. Fight and move away mediocrity. 


Few lover's sons left. 


Pick your battles from the bag with your boots and that picture of the lion escaping its cage whilst I fell into yours. 

Is there anything else or is this less than what you wanted?

Rude for noting your thinning soles and the leather's scars.

Hard to consider compensation for this blood you've been given. Diseased congealing life force. 

Awake and celebrating with me the people you've left. On this shore, this glimpse of Hell. 

Tossing and turning farther away from refuge. 

Mildewing pamphlets of my red and white memories. All the paintings we're without. 

Hack off my feet and keep me close. I float. Your hauntings with delusions of bliss. 

This is foolish, my pride in the envelope and later the shells. 

Every beacon a reminder to swim farther. Sirens witness my solace.  

Choking back wallows and whispers.

May Neptune weep as I fail in his righteousness. 


Into God's own heart I nestle. Finding rest eternally. 


Young Dracula, stop circling and take me.
*******.
Roar.
stone teeth grind dully.
Dear.
flesh swells & tears.
Torn.
breathe aggressive heat.
Breathe.
Tragedy
687 · Dec 2012
Ravens & wetness.
& with her heart thoroughly ravished,
I slide into this wet night.
It's cold there, I understand.

Half of a whole.
Who else but me understands?
I should keep walking.
With a sweet smile,
I should hold this flame close.

Rose formed mountains.
Your blood's legacy below.
My burning bed
& three oily candles.

Am I still?
Gazing, feeling nothing?

With let veins, weight is lifted.
With me, eternity rests & shifts.

Holding you.
Tragedy
686 · Apr 2016
Greeting in Florida
I compose me
try to pull teeth and grey elements

Ash and grey elements appear during supper
Words and personalization become law
Become a creed

A fool bringing moss to market,
Shawl holds tight while eyes pierce concrete,
wide at home and closed while here,

In this home

A shack with spoons

This late hour steams from crowns of heads,
or crowns on heads,
when darkest,
only mist is seen in crowns on bedposts.

Black panther melodies scar institutes
Whiter power anthems are nothing to speak of

I bet it is on three laurels
A magic marker nodding off

It is a drinking whiskey game I win


But I think I'm going to Hell

Kiss me before I am in Hell


Finding many things burnt but not char

I can't find what that word means again

This song and title I can't put back together

Oh, I could call


If only,

Oh,

I knew it all

A neck to breathe down with the gauge I bring down

Could suddenly cut ourselves short

This vegetable garden could produce marrow

Not knowing it was a crime
Tragedy
681 · May 2015
Florists.
The last transmission.
From the porch, tones entangle.
The knot is a loss.
The soft scales break your waters.
The gleam revals the rlin.
To pieice your heart and question why not sooner.
It is trust.
You must follow, you must not stray.
The fable sings of loss.
A brash whimper.
Tragedy.
679 · Jan 2015
The hooker by the sea.
Oh phantom city, believe not the lies of these citizens. 
Steer your smile away from the sun. 
Remain in the fog. 
In the morning gloom and groans. 
Continue breathing. 

The sea breathes in then out. 
And this repeats for all those who near it. 
At night or in the cold afternoon. 

Stricken with guilt your waves recede. 

For years you've swallowed our children. 
Dissolving our futures. 
Recreating them in images of hunters emerging with your translucent skin. 
With teeth so perfect and eyes free of disease. 
Raised in and given nothing but the dreams of silent death. 

She walks with child in hand.
I afflicted by his tug towards your loving grace. 
Eyes scanning the shore. 
For oiled bodies and gleaming eyes. 
A predatory stance. 
One to complete her suffering. 

Dreams dissolve and return me to creation's simple ground. 

Where are you now? 

Are you there in the bright lights?

Are you passenger?

Be it in the front seat or the rear, you've not forgotten where you are going. 

The sites to see are nothing if not with me.
Tragedy.
668 · Nov 2015
Idle Airport Tears
Untitled
It's again open season
Yet there remains no vacancy
No rooms for rest
Salmon kite
Days of nostalgia
Free float
Pure trist
Illis quotes Amber
The fungus grows larger
A beast and a rifle to burden this momentum
Falling through a mother's pine
One thousand banes in the form of love
A mother's work is never done
Ninth dynamic
Four hours and this is forged again
Silver screams heard through golden temples
Dust settles, the bricks fall
A mile of bone penetrates the pyramid
Bringing new forma of energy
Satan's toothpick
And sharp fur for another
Ghost conductor entering messages
Down there, he eats in fits of a slothful rage
In fits of overdosed shrubbery
***** clocks
Each hollows and fades you
Advanced romance as strands won't return
Dirt searches for your face in the midnight hours
Artificial chains
Lead by burns
Idolatry commencement
Group Tragedy
When will the weak shame the strong?

When will we raise our flags and place your chubby skull on the pole?

They say shame is the anchor but I'm just floating.

Very unable to find better adjectives for use in my poems about death.

How dare I call this love and not bear their wounds.

In other words....

Are you the man now?

Now that you got what you wanted?

But...

Let it be known...

Something...  Something...

(turns into someone else)


Oh yeah, you can have it.
  
If it means that much.

You may have it.

Don't let me stop you now.

(if it means that much to you)

But let it be known...

(it hurts?)

Oh oh...

Gurgle gurgle.

But...

Let it be known.  

(don't let me stop you now)

If it means that much to you bloodsucker.

Let it be known that
this is what you'll get
when you fall
out of line.

bloodsucker...

Don't let me stop you now.

Stretch me out.

On the table.

Turn my insides out.

Turn me into someone else.

Someone more like yourself.  

Bloodsucker I wonder..

(knowing, doing now)

bloodsucker.
bloodsucker.
bloodsucker.  

And no one wins..

But let it be known.

You are the man now.

Are you the man now?
Just lyrics.  Rearranged. Just me. Just me being angry but not violent.
666 · Dec 2012
Sonnet & fluff
May I find peace & thwart disaster.
Every time, miscounted.
Love, who knows me as I flicker.
& through black masks I'm shouting.
Already, I've lost you.
We fold time & plant fear.
Hold my grace & think death through.
Dreams burn & still she nears.
Take my souls & face true lust.
Slip Eros sans repartee.
Carnal prayers my angel thrusts.
Midnight's sultry air stirs through me.
In the valley of surrender.
Breathe my carnal savior.

Before soft steel & flesh come tender.
Swim beneath not after.
Tragedy
664 · May 2015
Curved Arrows.
So there is this curve finding its path, straightening.
And its lines stay, its shape changes.
A beating of youth's innocence.
The curve shivers,
cradles this loss in rigid angles.
Doorknobs above this plane twist and turn in strange resonance.
Light removes our square from its rest,
the curves recalls & falls in its haste.
Searching for new ground.

A page turns, a movement is here.

This hole opens, chambers become themselves thrice over.
Tragedy
Wonder
And rhyme
A lash
A tune the wrong way
Without a drop near a well
Tragedy
648 · Dec 2012
Ireland.
where the teenage queen fell,
& the ***** felt her spawn kick,
tentacles of hidden waste pulse,
above & within dormant homes,
sinning structures,
of grey matter folds
& pink flesh blossoming.

that's where I'll lie.
that's where I lie.
& paint my face,
& paint my face to contort
for all ages, among children
stripped of innocence
behind her watershed, yet
before the pearls & gold in heaven
not found among the soil & bone
here.
Tragedy
645 · May 2015
No spaces.
Deciding to pursue religion. False harmonies. Odd years growing up. You don't care for the upset, do you? Alone I sit in the spotlight, Hallelujah. Enjoying the absence of brass. My neck restored. Relaxing vertebrates. Shoulders depressing. Newer cut. Crystal above emeralds. Dear fire, Pursue the rigging. Make us of this intrusion. Square cut chardonnay.
Tragedy
It is a flat day.

Behind me, golden water continues to rise.

A step beyond and I will break my mother's back.

I feel the sum of jokes untold and lies misunderstood.

On the edge of this fear, do believe.

A new correction.

Centered and balanced on my forehead.

Unpack my mind.

In Leopard skin or Moleskin.

Anything but,
Something forgettable.

The tide has come.

I will say goodbye.

In my own way.


Will you rise and fall?

During my rest, will you continue life?

Or will you begin death again?

Baby, I am he.

Without curls and without the illusion of honesty.

An American flag.

If his country will do nothing as one child freezes,
it is only natural to swaddle with its flag.

Baby I am falling down real fast.

Baby I am moving and my eyes are closed.

Baby I am seeing a light.

And baby, did you know?
You were all I had.
Tragedy
642 · Jan 2015
Open your throat.
Two souls, the footprints of space time. 
Another conversation. 

Behold! 
The bucket's bottom. There are lines. 
Above but still below zero, are your promises. 

My greatest achievement is securing your only ******. 
The mess and the tendrils of confusion, the beacon for infidelity may remain his. 

Deity. ******* symbol of immense warmth and firmness. 
I turn you away. 
Grant me witness. 
And strength. 
And restless nights. 

A blood disorder. Yet mine fight all natural bodies. 
A stuttering problem. 
I've just the time to find my place. 

From a fiery prison. 
Peace and love with one cost. 

Your firstborn tainted. The king's seed on innocent's belly. 
What is your answer? 
Parenthetical or textual?

Frustrate the ***** of his people. All around decisions leave in rings unmade. 
The *** boils over and the mystery vanishes. 

I am finished. I am to weep tonight. 
My sobs and shudders move my shoulders and break my lease. 
From the front door, down the copper staircase and further down into the well of opportunities. 
I crawl and move my trail of tears underground. 

From the fire to the furnace I rise with skin as bronze.
Tragedy.
639 · Dec 2012
Tower (missing)
there is the final addition.
failing to grasp along the perfect bricks.
the drones below & emotion virginally injected.
a soul is born & a hate started.
quenched & fueled.
once just.
but the animator is gone away.
his cells drift now as snow through the cosmos.
ignored by Heaven's creator.
crying.
pleading
to their new God.
like children torn from platonic womb.
in the fury, logic flees.
dust settles & creation stops.
existence steps into frame.
watery eyes shift.
focusing on this figure so longed for.
so long before we breathed clay.
not defined by tranquility.
peace not standing.
Tragedy
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