A Letter For Future Youngbloods

Don’t let my arrival stutter this departure

Hostile eyes for bankrupt hearts endured

A balance between cosmos and dopamine

Atrium burns irascible, drunk on kerosene

.

High time to return my inimical courtesies

Retaliate and sophisticate, lavished parody

Atrophy my sanity, perversity on the floors

Convalesce as I lock up the revolving doors

.

Moments of sunshine, share words of harm

Briefcases brimmed blue, serpentine charm

Girls in the courtyard as boys make amends

Falling dollars, promises and lies to be spent

.

Cutting corners, raised stakes, paint, repent

Gamble equivocal disgrace, true half-meant

Situation at its vertex, but it never escalates

The venturers and inveterates said retaliate

.

But the end’s always the same as all the rage

Lying all alone and sleeping on spare change

Waiting for the world to reveal its only hand

Children of men, don’t pretend to understand

.

Glowing eyes extinguished by the fading moon

Kings of contagious plagues, stonewall’s gloom

Force of habit take society’s fashionable design

What is yours is mine and what is mine is mine

.

If I gave you all of my decency, showing up my only face

Ostentate, create, but don’t spend all of that in one place

Dear unfortunate youngblood, where did your youth go?

Your future’s squandered away, there’s nowhere to be so.

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metal & skin (xxx.)

i’m sorry

that i did it

but i’m not

sorry for you

and i don’t

fucking regret

the lies i spit

maybe it’s

all my fault

for wanting to

see something

heal and fix

itself in my life

you don’t need

to understand

and i don’t need

to explain myself

i don’t want help

because this is it

so fucking take

that away from

me too, won’t you?

maybe this time

i’ll resort to using

a sharper knife.

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metal & skin (xxviv.)

i’m not a fucking idiot

i know what i’m doing

and if you think you’ll

pacify me by freezing

my blood with iciness

then i’ll drown in your

concern, after all, you

damn know what’s best.

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metal & skin (xxviii.)

A rusted blade

Complications

Truth unmade

Foolish notion

Healing scars

Condescension

Judged sparse

Say it’s wrong.

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metal & skin (xxvii.)

fuck you

and your

high-flung

dramatic

opinions

you don’t

know shit

about all this

so just leave

me alone.

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metal & skin (xxvi.)

i’m not

relapsing

i just need

to vent

there’s too

much to be

gone, and

nothing spent.

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Disasterology 305: Dial D-E-A-T-H For Disaster

Can we create something beautiful
And destroy it?
Nobody knows I dream about it
This is my imagination…
If every living thing dies alone
What am I doing here?

~*~

If I taught you to dream, would you finally learn to sleep?

I’ll amaze you with the million stars I hide under my bed

Build me a wreck from a beauty I created but I can’t keep

You’re bad for my health, I’ll take one aspirin for my head

.

Catatonic hearts scream, from the energy keeping us awake

And shafts of sunlight beat down harsh on beautiful victims

Another unwritten telegram on the ceiling is all that it takes

For our getaways to run away, as your provenance is sinking

.

Will you pick me up if my mirror starts bleeding phantoms?

It hurts less if I pick up my pieces and drink my own venom

The words are running away from me, should I try to chase?

Clockwork temper with your contagious distractions in place

.

Will you be there when I die? Are you too caught with fame?

Are you just a nightmare? Do you even remember my name?

The acid answer would be the reason that my wineglass falls

I’m tired of waking up to a reality of answering machine calls

.

Buried close together in a shallow grave which was built for only one

These flower wreaths are choking me, cliché roses left for cliché suns

Wounds and bandages tangling, unraveled in farewell of a handshake

For dial tone sessions with your dying voice, I don’t mind staying up late.

~*~

If every living thing dies alone
What am I doing here…?
(Fuck it!) If it’s the end of the world!
If it’s the end of the world!
You and me should spend
The rest of it in love!

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Disasterology 101: Nightmares, Catastrophes, and Tragedies

I laid down, I drank the poison
Then I passed the fuck out
Now let me tell you about the good life
I have a million different kinds of fun
When I’m asleep and in a dream
That I’m your only one…

~*~

Several times these diamonds nearly bleed to death

Complicated breathing on a midnight I won’t forget

Thousand dollar oneirist, and coffee on your tongue

A song for my darling, upon shooting stars you hung

.

An average rusted boy galvanised in strings of silver

Guitar crying between your careful calloused fingers

In lakeside eyes and shotgun hearts that bit the bullet

Dim burgundy and pastel notes splashing your palette

.

Brushstrokes of gasoline, swimming under losing holds

Shame feels like broken bones, a promise not quite cold

Leatherbound love and liquid lie of a tarnished machine

Past your desecrated mouth, your affinities of evergreen

.

Haunted homes fusing and fabric skins melting together

In miraculous eternity, reposing on a graveyard weather

Hopeless chasms I dug out deeply in my wilted backyard

Veil lacing past spinal cords, as my pallid flesh is charred

.

Oh, I may well never marry gold, your lucent sun is not for my abyssal sea

And the sable ravens perched in the courtyard do not sing nor caw for me

But as the sky revolves around horizons, and our distant footsteps scream

I can hear you vividly in hymnals of faith, and of your throes I shall dream.

~*~

If you come over tonight
We can travel through time
We can sleep on the ceiling
And creep under black lights…

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Childish Traces

his laughter

and wavering

soft heartbeat,

and lingering

fragrances of

her lilac scent

caught between

my calloused,

trembly hands;

the sensations

and stories on

my fingertips

reminding me

of innocence

once lost, and

a purity to still

be preserved.

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Monomania

The chemicals in my brain

Are spilling over into tidal waves

And ricocheting delusions

But I don’t mind what they make

I’m being disgusting, banal

My apathetic towers are crashing

Yes, I’m sick from sentiment

But is that really such a bad thing?

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