fac[ad]e

hold it

together

and keep a

straight face

and just

remember

to set the

right pace

keep yourself

calm and

promise that

you’re sober

and maybe

soon enough

it will all

be over.

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It’s Not The 1700’s, My Crime Doesn’t Deserve The Guillotine Anymore

Meaningless materialism lights up cities in overdrawn sighs

Catch the drip like a bad acid trip and put me under the lies

This divine persiflage only lasted as long as surgeon stitches

A prelature to nicene creeds, the preamble to salem witches

Set the sky for ignition, to suffocate the zealots complaining

Truthful traitors run the blood thin with a little bit of ritalin

Withstand isolation with a myriad riot of defective firearms

Safety only counts in guns and padlocks like sadistic charms

Let lineages be mismatched, and let sobriquet names renege

The deceivers couldn’t bring back hell without getting singed

Don’t avoid the prejudice, let it seep in like desires in clothing

When murderers become heroes, let false history be rewritten.

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arts and crafts

paste a

paper moon

over my

windows

and tell me

that it’s real

and i will

give you some

glittery stars

to sprinkle

and tell you

what i feel.

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Nervous Wreck

You’ve got a lot of nerve

At the tip of your tongue

When you were the one

Who made me feel sorry

I was still even breathing,

The one who made all my

Dreams feel secondhand

And just a cheap thrill drug,

The one who made it seem

Like underground reposing

Was the only option for you.

.

You’ve got a lot of nerve

On your mouth, and none

On the organ past your ribs—

But that’s alright, because I

Lost mine when you twisted

It into a noose and made my

Cold throat feel numbed-out.

That’s alright if you want to

Murder trust and then act like

You’re the fucking victim here

Just don’t drag me down again—

You could do that for yourself.

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midnight storms

the thunder serenades

and the lightning makes

for a spectacular interlude—

hey rain, why don’t you

join this parade and start

the solstice’s show for me?

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Eight-Ball/Outlook

I’ve eaten bricks for breakfast

And my tongue is set on fire

All my nerves have lost their nerve

And my brain’s a walking satire

.

As the people are counted off

Like the fingers I have trembling

Attend the wake of my mild mistakes

And rude intermittent whispering

.

So I wait, and I breathe, and I sit steady

As I wait for the signal to turn ready

So I wait, and I write, and I try to find

When my heart’s made up its mind.

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day & night

sometimes,

in the morning

when the sunshine

hits my eyes,

it’s so bright that

it reaches beyond the

very depths of me

and leaves some light

for me to enjoy—

.

but then evening comes,

and the shadows

blind my eyes,

and it’s so dark that

it takes me back into the

very depths of me

and makes me forget

what colours look like…

and i’m not okay again.

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scar tissues

Baby, pour over, tell me, are we concrete?
What would you do without
My perfect company to your undressed spine?
And I can hear you drag behind my car by your broken legs
(Swallowing stitches in her sleep as she)
Stole my only view, may I never blink…

~*~

i am your bare bones

and the words that can fracture it

a faked death, disappearance

in the lonely asphalt ash

so undress my bad memories

take off that pretty, pretty, pink dress

and show me the lacerations

the lingering bruises on my spine

of your decayed entertainment

modern anxiety at its brutality finest

and tell me again how bad

all of my imminent injuries were

until i can feel enough

until i am enough

don’t hesitate on backburners

simply make me believe

that the chemicals in my open veins

serotonin, endorphins, tryptophan—

are not just a lie you made up…

like the raised welts on

my broken, praying wrists

nor the unrecoverable night i came to you,

sobbing and begging for gravity

to come drag me under

underwater, underground,

because i was desperate for it to be over

but we crashed in abstract strokes

only one pair of lungs breathed again;

a sordid altercation.

you’re a lucid dreamer, love

and i have an eidetic memory

and this damn world has selective hearing

over gasoline and sunshine

and the difference that it makes

when you light the aphotic city on fire

like a paradox under my skin.

this is my mass hysteria

although i’m calm at the altar veneer

and absent blank, my mind is an

apocalyptic wasteland

and i’m the sole survivor.

so surround my lavender hands

and black out the soft sodium streetlights

and patch up these obscene bones

and simply say the words

to make me forget.

~*~

Listen, I’m the one who made you
I’ll be the one who brings you down
But this will be the last time…

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dead poets

i have a love

for stories

so intricate

and tall tales

so profound

but it’s the

simpleminded

souls with no

spiteful lies

that get their

words around.

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Belial

I will defend that we are the vanquished
And you will not make our decisions
I won’t pretend that I’m not a victim
Of a world that will not listen
They will fall, nothing that I can’t overcome…

~*~

Rise from your grave

And save yourself

The angels won’t miss

A blurry little detail

.

Devour their promise

Crushed fingers lift

From another prayer

That you sent back to hell

.

They will all thank you

Someday, you think boastfully—

But for now we’re content

Cursing you back to your death.

~*~

Conquer the battles one by one
Crushing the head of what’s become
I’m screaming at the top of my lungs…

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