I wish I was your eyes,
watching faces, pass.
Will your gentle gaze
catch my stares
and be made aware....
that I'm lonely,
lots of love to share,
My glass is empty.

an infinitely rising reserve in
terms of thrills & bliss-providing emotions
a sho[ɑ]p of endorphins in bo[ɑ]dily form, b#tch
an ultimate source of a blast, like an explosive
you're gonna need an o[ɑ]culist service
in the wake of colliding with A̲[ɔ]ll this
****** inner li̲ght that I glO̲w with
like a co[ɑ]ffin that's furnished
with LEDs; I've got O̲ne wicked story
["wicked" in the sense of "cool"/"awesome"/etc.]
[blast, explosive, gunner ("go[ʌ]nna"), (a) wake, ******, coffin, wicked]
[get the picture?]
want to hear it? in fact, I don't care a bit
I've spent some time preparing it, so I am telling it
regardless
————————————————————————————————
awakened early, go[ɑ]t
out of bed, did some daily morning stuff
wet my somewhat dehydrated gorge with squa[ɑ]sh
then decided to take a morning wa[ɑ]lk
strolling through some great, sun-glowing spo[ɑ]ts
I notice twain alluring gals perambulating shoulder ta
shoulder, all murked out: make-up, clothing, lo[ɑ]cks
[murdered out]
and with their faces dolorous
think: "why are they so jO̲Y̲-bankrupt?"
after taking notice o[ʌ]f
the twosome, like a well-proportioned bo[ɑ]d
["toothsome"]
I put on a Ledger Joker mug
["mug" in the sense of "face"]
mask, outflank 'em, then make my way toward these go[ɑ]th-
-reminding lasses from behind in a sly-a## fashion
just li̲ke those dashing cowl-disguised assassins
[assassins from the "Assassin's Creed" franchise]
O̲nce I'm close enough, like self-sacrificing soldiers o[ʌ]f
islam, I explode releasing the co[ɑ]ntent noted 'bove
bawl: "LIT MORNING, QUIT MOURNING!"
so ear-piercing-lY̲ as thO̲U̲gh my nuts
were being twisted, hI̲t, then blown apart
they seemed to bE̲ in total sho[ɑ]ck
had these two squealing so **** hard
you'd think it's a visual-glory-o[ɑ]b—sessed princess woken up
and seen herself in a mirror old with rucked
skin; the ground's pretty firm & rough
with some edgy stones sticking
out behind 'em; while backwards-stepping, both trI̲p on
those freaking stones, then dro[ɑ]p
like a high-school boy's jaw when he gE̲ts a clO̲se view o[ʌ]f
a centerfoldesque fo[ɑ]x occupied wI̲th her yoga stuff
in the wake of tripping, bO̲th end up
with the backs of their bE̲A̲ns split open, blood
streaming, like getting stuff shown by li̲vestream
stand next to their figures frozen up
like a software piece, while both lie dying
find a lipstick in one of the dismal gI̲rls' pants' front
pocket, then make it look like both died smiling
awaken in the bedroom quarters o[ʌ]f
mine, it's dark, night; I̲ hit
the lamp's switch, then hear: "YOU JOKER SCHMUCK!"
said in a loud, low-pitched, fiend-like tone; my mI̲nd in
that moment's still in the sleeping mO̲de somewha[ʌ]t
which is grounds for why I̲ deemed
it's a wicked version o[ʌ]f
that bat guy here to get me iced; turn my sI̲ght in
["Dark Knight", i.e. the Batman; "Heath" (Ledger), who played the Joker]
[in "The Dark Knight" film; "bad guy", which ties in with "wicked"]
the voice's direction & see the murked-out broa[ɑ]ds
proceeding towards my sI̲de with
their **** peepers glowing blood-
-red, like "s'prI̲se, *****!"
like a Negroni, I stare at 'em thinking: "coldish slug!"
["ice there"; the "Negroni" drink is served with ice; also, it's red]
["coldish slug" - "holy f#ck"; "slug" in the sense of "shot of drink"]
[which ties "coldish slug" in with the ice-served "Negroni"]
utter a loud-voiced cry frightened
witless, or as much
as these goth girls fro[ʌ]m mY̲ dream
then I get pulled out of that creepy horror stuff
by the second awaking as I bawl: "F#CK! DIE, FIENDS!"

I opened my mouth to speak, and a throatful of datura glistened on my lips, lavish and ripe,
Thrashing through me, the silken flowers coiled viciously within my windpipe,

My neck was wrung with nightshade, flesh clawed with rashes,
Swollen blotches left my skin blooming and glassy with supple gashes,

Apologies from a verdant jaw trickled out of me like a botanic river,
Yet belladonna still churned in my gut and shrilled within my liver,

Violent coughs racked my body in waves of efflorescence,
And my capillaries burst with burgeoning buds of opalescence,

Ripping my pores apart, petals tore gaping holes in my teeth,
The oral garden of poison flowered like coral fluttering in a fertile reef,
So I looked at myself in the gilded vanity, bruised and young,
Reaching into the reflection, I plucked out my own tongue.

Heaven folds behind me,
and I embrace the demon's gate,
yellowish eyes do see,
that the grace never arrived
and now it's far too late,
My ghouls have been released,
and are gorging the apple trees,
and filling them up with crates.

What was I searching for,
beauty wishing for abstract feelings
or a prettiness of a *****,
not willing to be caring or judging.

I see fading warmth of first love,
but innocence is ever the child,
the rebirth was like that a caterpillar
but I never became the butterfly,
I walked the sea-shore into the cove
and discovered chaos so wild,
and they filled me like dearth of critters
and rebirth now becomes my denial.

Fireworks snap at my finger's clicking,
self destruction and I'm still breathing.......

The fire does not run,
it destroys and spreads,
memories that were fun
now fills me with dread,
Empty of echoing
a lonely dark hallway,
shadowy figurines
I bought on birthdays,
now haunt me with stares
and that solitary feeling
you are still here & aware.

Thank you for the quiet goodbye,
For following truth, not weaving a lie.
Though it pierced me, deep and slow,
You chose the path where honesty grows.

The pain of missing you is killing me,
But I know it’s a kinder cruelty.
Had you chosen me, with her in your mind,
It would have unraveled me, piece by piece, in time.

I’d have wondered if her shadow lingered there,
If your gaze held her image, your heart split, unfair.
I could have been your shelter, your flame,
But in my arms, her name would remain.

It would have destroyed me, not to know,
If your love was whole, or part of a show.
To lie awake, fearing every embrace,
Was a memory of her you couldn’t erase.

And worst of all, the quiet doubt,
That your choice of me had shut something out.
That you wondered, in silence, if you were right,
While I loved you with all my might.

So thank you for sparing me that fate,
For stepping back before it was too late.
For loving me enough to let me be free,
From the shadow of a love not meant for me.

The pain of missing you may never leave me,
But your choice saved me from far greater agony.
I’m grateful you chose her,
And even more grateful you chose not to destroy me.

A jet black shellac record spins
seventy-eight times a minute.
Its label bears a lady ’round the pin:
She strums her lyre pictured on it.

It’s a flat earth of forgotten tunes
that spins on an axis of steel
through heavens lit by a lyrical moon
filled with the stars of bygone years.

The label’s lady of the lyre
smiles up from her grooved time machine,
her strums reverse the stars’ funeral pyres:
On each rotation her lyre gleams.

Beyond the grave, voices I hear
defy the dark passage of time:
They sing, resurrected from yesteryear.
Her lyre scores each lyrical line.

Each scratchy hiss and tiny pop
I hear from the disc’s dust and scars
reminds me of a radio telescope
that points up to distant quasars.

Alas, the needle drifts further on
‘til it reaches the groove’s final string
and then the tonearm waits for a new dawn
when this time machine once more sings.

A seraphic grand piano, besmirched with blood and fervent,
Scattered across old alabaster keys, Ichor stains scores of parchment.

Stewed passion runs wildly across the docile tempo,
Mellifluous effervescence lingers in the gored vestiges of a crescendo.

Memories of artistic vigour shrivel and regress,
Our blissful felicity of mellifluence, slaughtered by organic evanesce.

Thought I would need to be blind
to miss the signs that
you were meant to be mine;
smiles stretched miles wide
and serendipity starbound
in the nights together
awake til twilight.
But your gentle touch
is now engraved in my spine,
cleaved by the same knives
which divided
once you decided
that you reside
over the line.

Memories that bind
still seize,
bleed in my mind;
I'm undone
but not yet untied,
I took a dive
and the only reciprocity
were my returning sighs like the tide,
the quiet and silence
of goodbyes
bottles now washed up on the seaside
freezing messages
left inside,
the past now magnified,
broken glass gutting
and cutting me down to size
leaves me grieving a lie
crying why can't I find,
tried,
died,
now pining to be revived–
my god am I even still alive?
Well I guess its time
to just
survive.