Cushioned in the cracks till the sliver meets eye,
I am a witness,
To the spider and the fly on the table,
Taking sip after sip of a heated debate over a purpose.

Eye twitching to the sides of the walls towards a painting,
Definition in the curves of the decay,
Still aesthetic from the lines to the dripping frame,
A figure crying with a smile at the dust and the webs,
Left by the painter.

We gander on at the ghosts of an empty room,
Before the creeks from the floor stopped existing,
Before the whites and the browns of the walls turned grey,
Where the fireplace whistles a fable,
Of a light it produced even brighter,
Than the beams cutting holes in the ceiling.

If not for the rain, I could've sworn I heard the songs of the tapping,
From the infants that stabbed at the windows,
Similar to the pitch of where the door used to be,
I used to scurry to the cleft of the kitchen,
To see the gods drink the sins of the passing week,
Where they would dance against the sides of the counter tops,
Before the moss conquered most of the tiles,
Before the corrosion ate away at the sink.

The rooms I used to venture to were worlds I thought never existed,
A land made of cotton and fabric,
Where the bodies would lie upon for hours,
Voices echoed from inside of a plastic box,
And showed a story of the lives within them,
I'd always watched till the frame within turned black,
I used to itch for the morrow and the after,
I used to crave for the revelation,

I still remember.

Settled cotton and boiling
rice in the ***
smooth of a brushed
& perfect object
which every gaze
will ever be caught
in a maze
of ever-buzzing insects.

Lit of blue flames pouring
of sick gasoline
Leaves the scorched an
over-cooked chow mein.

Light up this heretic
Light me up.

The rags smell filthy
as the rats are rancid
tucking into the poison
of  bones and teeth.

Remember when,
I asked to be a heretic?

I kept the burning letters and the removal of x-mas trees
of my throat swallowing my child-hood naivety,
There's cars smashing where the violation exists,
the hand held to a throat trying to breathe.
Graffiti anarchy with my intoxication of eyes.
Best friends break apart unfriendly marbles
wake up dragging mats upon the carpets.
I wish I could forget and dumb my brain,
but it only drives home more the perspective,
rain drenched and wearing my favourite collar
Nothing is better hope than a dog with a bone.
I wish I could wiggly wag like my dead-on pet,
but when has the warmth of the sun's been set
single spark apart from all of my child-hood days.
I wish I could wake up and smell your essence.
To be honest, I wish to die and not bake in this flesh,
Attraction can be blinded in interpretation
Opening up as ocean whipped afflictions.
And gentle are the starfish at bottom of oceans
and bitter comes warmth sting-rays of the surface,
Earliest and the best of  sands upon the lands
crashing as uncle pulled coins from my ears.
I'll be as blinded to misery and focus on God,
Reappraisal and not loving bag of tricks,
There's no such thing as wisdom with the lambs,
and ever higher does this wall slabs bricks,
Ever loyal are loved sweet adorable dogs,
licks our faces and jumps up so quick.

Good-bye
to nightly
rest,
take a bite
of this pizza
that has
my toppings
and my centred
oozing cheese.
Wraps over,
all the vegies
and the bacon,
pineapple,
the biggest
part of me.
Juicy and sweet
collides
with the salty,
of the beaches
of such ladies
in bikinis.
Wrapped up
and the lust
tests our devotion
and respectability
How it pushes
against appetite
for devourment.