Bitter knife glitter
little knife bite
Brilliant shard litter
blood in black night
Brittle nerve flicker
Flit-- oh ****-- sicker
And sicker pale bright
Moon in sky-- Fright
Trick or treat slither
Slither from sight
A slight serpent sliver
whispering white.
Silent slight serpent
Fangs embittered bite
Little knife bite.
Brittle nerve flicker.

Spiral in the irises my dreams do
down into the pupil gaping wide
what goes to hide
it stays inside

In tepid wanter rot the mortal fools
No one knows why.

In livid water boil angry souls.
They explode.
From the pressure
*it stays inside

Down into the pupil gaping wide
like dreams do

I say 'long ago'
They say
'You're twenty.  What do you
know of time?'

Well.  I know it's measured in moments
Not seconds

Heartbreak not heartbeats.

And I know, though it drags on and on
There is never enough.  

That is what I know of time.

Arms arms breaking forward each pore a door
Escape the whole
Eyes eyes multiplying, constantly eyeing
The ground below
Me, I’m just standing --aside, the bridge to nowhere
As the stars like little lanterns hold their fire back with pains --panes?
And I, I’m just watching -- let the wind whisper do the talking
Or is the sway of shadow trees, a laughter is it mocking
The black crows with their bright beaks bursting from each layer of skin
With their dead eyes that I find such strange comfort in?

today passed like a dream
a lit match smothered by skin
a raindrop ****** into a stream
a heartbeat a blink a promise

you don't like reflection well
I hate to tell you darling but the
truth doesn't look good on you
the reason you have nothing to say
is because I am right
Each word that drips from my curving lips
Will only eclipse whatever lies your mind sips
because your heart skips and then your tongue trips
because I am right.

And you pass like a dream
a lit match smothered by skin
a raindrop ****** into a stream
a heartbeat a blink a promise
Because you did promise.

But I knew enough about people
to expect nothing
And you met my expectations.
So I really am...right.

Others have a before, before the aftermath
A past to look back on, a child in the mind
They mourn their lost purity
The fleck in their eye gone flat
The dulling of imagination and sharpening of
The ache everpresent

But I have no before.  There is no moment
No mindset to look to, cry -- bring that back
Bring me back to innocence!  No, for I lack
That yesterday...

yet my today is not dull
And I’m not yet full
Of grey dreams, grey hairs, grey blood
My blood yet runs red
And for each drop I’ve bled
And for each step I’ve tread
And for each word I’ve said
And for each hell I’ve wed
There is no before.  No past to look back on.
No virginity to mourn.

So was I just like this
from the day I was born?
Have I forgotten the taste
Of innocence...
Or have I, for everything, not lost it,
not yet been dragged to life by the sharp kiss of Reality?

I'm sorry to waste your time.
It isn't a big deal.
It's just life you know
Maybe it's not even real
I'm sorry to waste your time
You have better things to do
I'm not even sure of
What I want from you
I'm really just burning time
Which is a little funny
Because people get paid for time
And I wouldn't burn money
But I just keep burning time
I don't know what remains
I don't know if it burns faster
For chaos, chasms, pains.
I don't know if I am master
For these time-fueled ember rains
Which actually...have eaten up
The space for me to say
Whatever I was thinking of
Before you walked away.

Kasimir Malevich. You really have no idea how
annoying you are; I look at your Black Square,
first see nothing there; an Emperor's new clothes
situation; people feigning education by rambling
meanings from blackness; Ignoring what it lacks -
it's the reverse of what art should be. That's why
it calls to me.  Isn't it?  It is rebellion, revolution,
An iconoclastic icon, there are novels within it's
empty. Are there? So I feel strongly. But as for a
Judgement...I have Nothing. It's a Black Square.

You equate me to a murderer
Because I smoke some cigarettes
I guess we'll all be down in hell
While you play harp in winged quartets.

Sure, I reach for stars just 'cause they burn
my soul's a maze so I can hide
I've scrambled "god" with "****" and "****"
Each day my head and heart collide

But art's knowing when to break the rules
And life is art, so do the math
You think I'm just a 'talking corpse'
'Cause I reject your 'purer' path?

I'm a mess but that's just fine
You live your way I'll live mine
But tell me how you can define
The One True Way to live?
When you look at minor heresies
and can't even forgive?

I'm glad you're not bewitched by me
I'm glad I'm not bewitched by you
That never will Earth's heavy orb
Float out from underneath our feet.
I'm glad that we can be funny...
messy, and not play with words,
And not redden-- a stifling wave
Upon us lightly touching sleeves

I'm glad too that before me you
Will freely embrace another
That you won't **** me to hellflames
Upset by me not kissing you
That my tender name, my tender darling
You won't recall in day nor night...in vain
That never in the church's silence
Will they sing over us 'alleluia'

I thank you with my heart and with my hand
For the fact that you -- yourself not knowing
Loved me so; for all of my peaceful nights
For rarity of meeting sunset hours
For our not-walking underneath the moon
For the sun not there with us, overhead
For you not being - alas, bewitched by me
For me not being - alas bewitched by you

My forehead is high (looks alien)
My eyebrows dark (like anger)
My eyes are slanted (too small)
My cheekbones sharp (terrifying)
My skin is pale (Boo Radleyesque)
My nose is bold (Broken?)
My lips are full (Infected?)
My hair, cold and smooth (Death)

So why do they lie to me, tell me I'm pretty.
Tell me to be happy, just 'cause I'm pretty
Say I can be anything, because I am pretty
Say just forget everything, remember I'm pretty

But I grew up with Truth.
I'm alien anger too small terrifying Boo Radleyesque broken infected death
That doesn't sound too pretty.

And even if on the outside
my shell can be called pretty
Truth stands.

Scar? let it scar let
it scar let it
scarlet

I swallowed Charybdis somehow...
I was in the Dire Strait(s) of Messyna,
Doing my Odyssey thing (such is life)
And I just swallowed Charybdis.
The funny thing is this
Maelstrom, it fits
Within me just fine
It's even vaguely useful
(drank that Scylla's blood like wine)
But there's still a sensation
I have of...mild annihilation
Of everything that was mine.

But it all still seems fine
I may be filled with a vacuum
of violent wailing waves that's
coated my heart with rime
But it'll melt with time.
(I imagine.)  

But one thing does now worry me
Moving forward, my journey
Leads to that pesky island.
Helios's; the Island of the Sun!
(Yes he's quite a brilliant one)
Now that might warm my blood
And it might tame the waves
Transform the vacuum to a tender sea
Giving more control to me
Less reckless and more truly free...
Live as who I was born to be...

But also-- Charybdis might just like...
eat all the Sun's special cows or whatever
and either he will never rise again
or I'll get speared with a lightning bolt
Which both would ****.
So I'm stuck
Imprisoned by Charybdis (ironically)
I sit here a bit catatonically
As I lock up Charybdis
Wondering how the hell (Hades?)
This monster fits within.
and wondering who swallowed who.

To play like a pawn:
Inch forward another’s agenda,
Sacrificed, no hesitation
To hope for the improbable
Other-side transformation?

To play like a rook:
Stuck in the straightforward
No room for contemplation
A bulldozer glorified
Lacking imagination

To play like a bishop:
Stick to your faith in lines
Of black and white segregation
Staunch though often wrong
Leave others to damnation

To play like a knight:
Leap over all details
Avoid altercation
But sometimes take forever
To reach destinations

To play like a king:
Spend the game always hiding
Fear killing animation
Unless you happen to just
Collapse in resignation

To play like a Queen:
Potent, adaptable,
Incarnate devastation
Consider every angle
Master of her nation
Seeking vindication.

But how do you play like yourself?

Sit in a desk
draw the Straight Line
pick the Right Answer
write the Right Sign

Negative, Positive
Black or White
that's what we learn
Day and Night

Plan out your life
be the Straight Line
pick the Right Answer
flash the Right Sign

Negative Positive
Day or Night
that's what we learn
Black and White

but then some ******
gets you fired
'cause he's hired
his girlfriend's son
and you get sideswiped coming home
and you fall in love
with--no one,
what makes you happy is the Wrong Choice
the call alluring you -- the Wrong Voice
you want to color outside the line
and-- actually...
if you can be brave enough...that's totally fine

There are many paths to happiness
You only need to find one
but it might not be in the Straight Line
the Right Answer
the Right Sign
But if you can be brave enough
It's totally fine

She's stuck within the ice of space and time
She's paralyzed by threats of yesterday
Leaving her coldblooded and cased in ice
They stole her warmth but she still has to pay
Steel she seems to feel makes up her walls
but you approach her, warmth within your hands
You feel she's frozen.

Unfreeze! they say as if it worked that way
Just melt! dismiss her as a drama queen
But there's a reason she wants you to stay
She shivers but can't shatter the cold screen
But there's a reason she wants you to stay
Because of your hands she feels.
She feels less frozen

I don’t believe in fairy tales
But if I did, I think that I
Would unfold wings
Of light metal
Learn to fly
With glinting rings
Of gold upon my brow
Writhing ‘round my ankles,
gilded snakes eternal.

I’d imbibe my blood
Which would decree
If good or evil I would be
Watch the fates a circle 3
Weave the thread that makes me, me.

And when I died
I’d have been brave
My ghost would dance
Upon my grave
Before seeking salvation’s solace.  
Never to be soulless.

And maybe with this world of
Witchcraft ingrained in my mind
Would be that feeling others find
So easily; the leap of faith into
An embrace
A rush upon
Seeing a face
Anyone, everyone, true love
for the One--
another Holy Grail...

But it'd take a witch’s brew
To make me “fall in love” with you.
For I haven’t believed in fairy tales
Since once upon a time.
When heroes become monsters
Loving is a crime.

My hands they glitter white
They haven't touched sunlight
within the week

My skin's surface is tight
The blood does not feel right--
am I a freak?

In colors bold and bright
My pale shell could ignite...
what do I seek?

To feel free flying fright
Unleash the silver night
And hear Her speak.

they told me "reach new heights and you'll feel tall"
I climbed the clouds and all I felt was small

they told me "do what's right and you'll feel strong"
I did what I thought right but was I wrong?

they told me to find happiness in friends.
I looked, found shallow laughter, bitter ends

they told me just to find myself within.
I opened up; found only empty skin.

we learned the same words but
not the same language

we sing the same notes but
not the same song

we walk the same road but
not the same paths

we didn't do right but
not the same wrong.

Each flicker of the heart
        Is one less before death
Each time you exhale--
        One less living breath
Potential becomes reality
        The candle drips in flame
And though it burns the bloodshot eyes
        They are both the same

Each flicker

    Each breath

Running wax the candlestick
Feet flailing forward, fleeing fast
Flickers bicker tock and tick
Drip drip down the candlestick,
Running down the sheer sides, slick
With the immolating wick
to fire

Running from the past
So sprinting towards the future
Running through the blur of now
Running out of time

Out of breath
Out of flickers
Hear is

This is the last line of the poem.
You got there
But you don't get it
You really do need help.

Because this poem rhymes.
You just missed it.
Go back, check.
You still don’t understand?
Well, you’re delusional.
You really do need help.

It rhymes. It’s a Sonnet. Sonnets rhyme
You are not all there, trust me
It’s in iambic pentameter.
If just because you don’t get it you try to make me the villain,
It would be so hurtful since I’m helping,
You really do need help. Let me help you,

You think you know better than me...I’m the poem
You must be insanely arrogant or just psychotic
To think you know better than me
You aren’t even reading me. We already established that
You. Aren’t. Reading. This. Poem.  It’s about butterflies
You really need help.
As the first line of the poem says,
“Why would I lie?”

Her hands caress your jacket
Each time she sees you
No matter the years
between
You sparkle something new
Though you remain
Familiar
You ring
a different true
There are a thousand tales
Within yours
She’ll never know them all
She just knows she’s bound to fall
Again
Each time she sees your (type) face

The best part of being an older sister
Is the recycling.  
When a little sister comes to you
Wanting clothes which you outgrew
Looking bright in style.

When a little sister comes to you
With math homework; without a clue
And you can make her smile

When a little sister comes to you
Going through what you’ve been through
Seeking understanding

When a little sister comes to you
And you weave words that still hold true
Never reprimanding

When a little sister comes to you
And you know she’ll never have to do
anything the hard way
alone.

There sits, tucked away in Salzburg
A secret sight-- a cemetery
Where fog hangs thick
Over headstones high
Standing for those ****** to lie
For all eternity set in bone

In the stone faces stare
With the blank and vapid glare
Of dead men who tell no tales
Just because they forgot them
But most travelers don’t see them there
Because they’re captured
By the enrapturing eyes
Of the Second Nature.

The rise of the vines a tide
Of blossoms opened wide
A violent violet cavernous wild,
A bleeding blush tinged red demure,
And fire
Those three colors enveloping grey
In thousands of blooms
Awakened, pure, alive today
Peering through the fog
Feasting off the remnants of
Those who’re locked in
All the forgotten

As the flowers barely, rarely blink.

There once was a boy with the thought
a girl too meek to have fought
So despite her plea
he just took for free
What a gentleman ought to have bought

There once was a girl with a bowl
Which hadn’t in years felt full
Though less it may weigh
Heavier it lay
In her hands and on her soul

An old man came to rest by their side
Long after his poor dreams had died
For him there were tears
But reverse forty years--
For his dreams, only he cried.

There once was a magical mythical nation
Who felt threatened by half of its population
So they shot them all
And sounded the call
For a ******* national celebration



And there once was a shield named Cynicism
Who sought strength in criticism
While it suffers each day
Bitter decay
It won’t be let down like idealism

I think I’ve wronged you think you’ve wronged me
We’ve both apologized many times many ways
But still the chill of guilt won’t set us free.

Your eyes glisten; say you act selfishly
Mine plead, yours can’t bear to meet my gaze
I think I’ve wronged you think you’ve wronged me.

If we could just connect then we might see
That friendship yet lives within this haze
But still the chill of guilt won’t set us free.

And now that our hearts beat separately
While we act on different shores, in different plays
I think I’ve wronged you think you’ve wronged me.

And worse we both know the tragedy
That that’s how caring for each other pays
But still the chill of guilt won’t set us free.

Laugh we cannot friends we cannot be
When chained by grey regret from yesterdays
I think I’ve wronged you think you’ve wronged me
And still the chill of guilt won’t set us free

With each falling key
the problems become more yours
and you become more me.
I paid the debts of the past
with interest,
but those of now
Are yours somehow...
(I'm sorry to hand you this mess btw).

So your whole inheritence
will have to be experience
And it's not going to be perfect
And you're going to wish I could read
the rant of a manifesto you write to me.
But that won't happen.
I'll be history

Because with each falling key
the problem becomes more yours
and you become more me
I presently lose agency
that's the reality
Of time.

I fixed all I could with mine.
Do what you can with yours.