i miss the fuck.
the knife
at your throat
with begged whisper
hair sweated
teeth full of blood
stinking of wine
eyes glitter in the blade
nameless gods conjured
black spells barked
hands bound
unlike your heart
dragged through the dirty room
air heavy with perfume
baseboard heat
vodka
stripped on your knees
i peer over my stained gut
into your gleaming eyes
blind
your throat
wanting to be choked
the loveless ransom
and silent approval
9/16/08
9/15/08
missed
between the sheets of rain
in long nights
on brutal days
i long
hear that whisper
eyes glued
movements unknown
daring to be seen
in my mind
all i see
never touch
did i ever
so many roads broken
charred with pain
only being alive
not really living
answer when you call
finally in the din
what do you hear
would you listen
in long nights
on brutal days
i long
hear that whisper
eyes glued
movements unknown
daring to be seen
in my mind
all i see
never touch
did i ever
so many roads broken
charred with pain
only being alive
not really living
answer when you call
finally in the din
what do you hear
would you listen
9/5/08
Awake in the time of martyrs.
Awake in the time of martyrs.
Everyday there is a new battle. New lies from old tongues.
At the end I stand heaped in bile, spittle with the reeking stench of bubble-gum.
I push through the thudding weight of the powerless egos of the soul-less mob brandishing rusted knives of deceit.
Days of now, new foes have crept of out the shadows of their muddied faces only to show their true bestial visage. Worms. Pustulous speeches and rants gurgle from their diseased maw only to sting my ears like the flies from their backs.
Clamoring for attention and recognition I stand aside from their loping gait - awaiting the true circus of calamities and vanity.
May you all join in me in their fall for it is a long way down.
It is all I can do.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Everyday there is a new battle. New lies from old tongues.
At the end I stand heaped in bile, spittle with the reeking stench of bubble-gum.
I push through the thudding weight of the powerless egos of the soul-less mob brandishing rusted knives of deceit.
Days of now, new foes have crept of out the shadows of their muddied faces only to show their true bestial visage. Worms. Pustulous speeches and rants gurgle from their diseased maw only to sting my ears like the flies from their backs.
Clamoring for attention and recognition I stand aside from their loping gait - awaiting the true circus of calamities and vanity.
May you all join in me in their fall for it is a long way down.
It is all I can do.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
of sour grapes and wrath
of sour grapes and wrath
the lies you live
the ones you hide
running from yourself
the circus never left town
watch your finger
pointing at you
tongues ensnared
no sanctuary for little people
mouth cracked like the tower
never at the top
looking down
i've always looked through
beauty with no reflection cast
just the withered husk
holding to worms
for empathy
a shut door
then a blur
i walk the storm
cleansed
"Man creates his own God, his own devil, his own heaven and his own hell. This is your hell." - The Masque of the Red Death
Friday, August 15, 2008
the lies you live
the ones you hide
running from yourself
the circus never left town
watch your finger
pointing at you
tongues ensnared
no sanctuary for little people
mouth cracked like the tower
never at the top
looking down
i've always looked through
beauty with no reflection cast
just the withered husk
holding to worms
for empathy
a shut door
then a blur
i walk the storm
cleansed
"Man creates his own God, his own devil, his own heaven and his own hell. This is your hell." - The Masque of the Red Death
Friday, August 15, 2008
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