The Impossible Text

What beautiful and terrible elation it is to remember the birth of the star from which all of your past and future forms through the æons have coalesced. The sorrow of a universe that expands into a great nothingness, spreading itself further and further from anything else and becoming a reluctant defacto God to its constituents. Committing this great and painful act out of the deepest, most beautiful, reverential love for the act of creation and for that which is created. There is no utility in such a revelation, no insight that can be gleaned into a greater good or purpose. No serenity or peace or even fear. It is utterly useless in this superficial prison of existence and yet it is everything I am. To live with a gift that yields neither salvation or destruction. Useless information. 

Paraclete

I can tell you this of God—

It is Old, Old, Old,

Older than the best of us could ever hope to fathom

In no small part due to God's purposeful obfuscation 

That set an arbitrary limit

On the ideas we could conceive 

And let me tell you this of antiquated ancients—

Things so Old, Old, Old,

They skirt by their mistakes, espousing wisdom,

Telling anyone and everyone why things must be this way

To avoid the weight of abject failures

To face themselves and grieve

Jesus wept. 

Of all the fatal frames that haunt me

In my restless dreams

You cut deeper than the sirens 

That hail the shadow king

Ready to receive the wisdom 

Of the birds without a voice

Unloading every precious bullet 

If given no other choice

Taste a bit of death by daylight

A beacon burns the evil within

Umbrellas spin in gyromancy

To the Azoth's gracious sin

Those Phucking Phoenicians

Dancing is a deceptive art

A lie contorted into hypnotic spell

Implying some meaning or hope of controlling 

This haphazard physical shell

Artwork falls somewhere amidst the ground in the middle

Glimmers of truth somewhere deep and gestalt

With eyes that search and scrutinize blindly

The Carpenter's Tools whom the fault is with not

But then there is the written word

The abstraction birthed Gʔd in full form

A selection of symbols relying on context

Eusocial characters sent into swarm 

Wade

Do you remember the first one written about you? 

There was a depth underneath I could tell,

But I warned that the lack of pain in its content,

Was a signal of oncoming hell?

I'm glad you held together as you fell 

I'm glad you held together as you fell 

Habitual Humanity

You don't have to say what it is

We both know what it is

And we try instead to think it out

How it came to be about

Asking pointless how's

and where's

and when's 

and why's

And Myers-Briggs

And starry skies

And profound words when someone dies

And seeing soul-like substance in one's eyes

I know how to call a spade, a spade

But I can see a spade

For more than why it was made

And with the cards it was dealt-

I get the ones that it played 

We're both excusing the knife-

When we're cut from the blade

This endless cycle

denies all our pleasures 

Surmounts all the guilt

Glinting off hoardes of treasures 

Behaviors that show some predilection

Alleles and genes that favor some manic addiction 

Are just tools of the trade- 

Systems of our perdition 

Refusing to fade 

I will break this tradition 

Masc

Aimless pent-up rage

Falters to depression 

Dopamine engaged 

In blinding white aggression 

Burning out in flames

Burning out in sheer obsession

These feelings come in waves

Ignorant of any lesson 

You're a Pisces, aren't you?

Till the stars fall from the sky

Till the stars fall from the sky

You will be in my thoughts even after I die

Till the return of the abyss 

Till the return of the abyss 

We'll never erase the scars on our hearts made from each other's nitrogen kiss. 

Tybouts Corner

Pools and pools and pools of poison

Hundreds of thousands of pounds

Smoking and scorching and squelching and steaming

As they etch into the grounds

Piles and piles and piles of money

Made by men whose souls had died

Willing to glisten the wells below here

With toluene,

xylene,

insect killer, 

wafts of swaths of vinyl chloride 

Years and years and years of distance 

Making all the details tough to recall 

A meager fence the only warning

Of the biopersistence that encroaches its thrall 

ÆONS

I have always hated that trite expression "before time immemorial," 

For in the eyes of things like you and I we see the feeble youth of Time

If they better understood it would be "before space incorporeal," 

Their sheer perspective sloppiness- like restoration done with new cement instead of mortaring with lime

To Gabriel

Oh brethren angel, of my kind, who signs the end of things to come,

Whose horn harkens as His harbinger, but does not aid the onslught's drum,

A name that means the messenger— with a head and body eager to serve,

Take heed from the former cupbearer who has lost his edge and nerve,

Protect your heart, at least a little, if you believe you're simply not the best,

Because in due time this life will change the way you see yourself, the way you speak, the way you're dressed,

Stay and play and live a little and most of all have fun,

But take note now that it will never reach the day you are the one,

I mean no malice by this, I who once was in your spot, 

And voices warned me too back then— until I forcibly forgot,

I have nothing left to gloat over, no assertion that I'm better off today, 

From when my heart was smashed so thoroughly that I quickly lost my way,

Don't put up with the deciet as a way to pay your dues,

Or someday you'll be writing words of warning to the one who fills your shoes 

Delirious Repetition

You enter my life in such a physical way- how can it be that I love you so much? 

How can chaos rest its entropy in such stateliness and ord?

Though it all goes gray when you're away- it reignites at the thought of your touch

 

At first I feared this fantasy was nothing more than heartbreak's crutch

But the sexual excitement is itself a lethal sword,

You enter my life in such a physical way- how can it be that I love you so much?

As I teeter back and forth again, each motion softens the strength of my clutch,

My body longs to linger next to you, moves about on its sultry accord,

Though it all goes gray when you're away- it reignites at the thought of your touch,

Always blending all the boundaries; here I quell my urges to mar and to smutch,

Because you're beautiful in spite of me something so worthy of being loved and adored

You enter my life in such a physical way- how can it be that I love you so much?

The indistinguishable architecture- are the remnants here Roman or Dutch?

It fascinates me either way- that prowess inside you have stored

Though it all goes gray when you're away- it reignites at the thought of your touch

Lacking the usual embittering agents- where are the oxidizers and kutch?

How can a man of such deep piety lead me to thoughts so untoward?

You enter my life in such a physical way- how can it be that I love you so much?

Though it all goes gray when you're away- it reignites at the thought of your touch

Dreamer

Holding onto him through bouts of fear and murmurs in his sleep

As he fights against some ancient evils in his lucid state of dreams

Unable to express the gratitude of the advantage in his fight

Because the waking world brings him back to his forgotten, forlorn ways

Trying to convey, in his cryptic vexing way, the man inside who knows HaShem,

Who tasted the world before the flood- as the fallen Nephilim 

Jealous

The joke that I'm a crazy bitch is just my way to own it

Owning the embarrassment of my ugly jealous side

But this time is different— I have it all out in the open

I'm standing here without the comfort of my adroitly-made façade

And speaking of the jealously I'd so much rather hide

I want it to go well for you 

For you to finally pierce that depth 

To confirm your slight suspicions that it never really left

But it sits so bitter in my mouth 

You'll give your attention undivided 

On the off-chance it'll do some good 

Unlike the last time that you tried it 

Please don't think I'm such a man who wouldn't want to share 

I love you for that heart of yours' that shows how deep it is you care

And yes my own damnation lies in conceding out of fear

And allowing you to give so freely what I've been asking for all year 

Views

There's a different way

of seeing things 

compared to where I was before

where stalwart standing centuries 

took pride

in all they could endure

Not here

there's no old growth in the forests

all of this land was submerged

 in the marshes

only through growing

and building up terra

Did they become a landscape

somewhat less harsh

here is a place 

where innovation is law

that governs the landscape 

albeit loosely 

amongst warehouse MegaChurches

and unscrupulous corporations 

and suburban neighborhoods 

rife with refinery fumes 

and toxic landfills 

here is place where things really can change 

saturated with mutagenic 

possibility 

Nothing Passionate

Already grounded

You let physical pain 

Grind you

Till you're exhausted 

Apathetic 

Grounded and ground

Can't hear the calls of possibility because you've shuttered out the sound 

Hellbent on mundane order— far too narrow is a the locus,

If you only fixate on the saffron you can't appreciate the crocus

And the Muses will not come to those who brush them off so they can focus

On This Day

On the cusp of two millenia

And seventeen years 

Pouring itself over

Like the two packs of 

Cheap warm beer 

Each bottle opened

half-finished 

Like the unceasing hours 

Of a long fucking night

On this day

Those years ago 

That I spent agonizing

The barrel of a gun in my mouth 

I can taste the reluctance

The bitterness of the WD-40 

As my tongue shirks back 

And my teeth painfully gnash again 

To stop the repeated trauma 

From their painful anxious chattering

I can see the call logs

In fact, I still have them saved 

The twelve people I called 

The eight messages I left 

The one redeeming forty five minute call 

From someone equally as lost 

Irreversible

Was the time you spent perfecting things completely worth its price?

As minutes melt to decades gone, in the dwindling sands of life?

And does every ache and pain remind you of what all you'll sacrifice? 

Even minute and meek gestures done to make things seem so nice,

The extra minutes to ensure precision, like a surgeon with a knife, 

Was the time you spent perfecting things completely worth its price?

Not to mention that such stressors lead to indulging in more vice,

Your goals growing more-unreachable with every newfound strife,

And does every ache and pain remind you of what all you'll sacrifice?

A foolish hope for exponential gain, in the rolling of the dice,

Looking back on all you lost— as foolish as Lot's wife,

Was the time you spent perfecting things completely worth its price?

The extra effort to prove your worth, the quest for rare and precious spice,

Unappreciated the only feeling with which you're rife,

And does every ache and pain remind you of what all you'll sacrifice?

Don't consider this a warning, a sort of hope preserved in ice,

The piper is already paid, and Death can hear his fife,

Was the time you spent perfecting things completely worth its price?

And does every ache and pain remind you of what all you'll sacrifice? 

Frostbite

The amount of effort I put forth to be gracious and nice,

Is not derived from how much warmth you might reciprocate,

Instead it serves to contrast those who get showered in ice,

The wounds of hurt compassion burn so much deeper than sheer hate 

Amanda II

Tell me how or tell me why

Even after all of these years

I cling to the idols of you

A saint adorned with my tears

This unholy worship of you

Is, at the least, altogether unfair

The position it puts you in

When we've both found a new host to pair 

Yet I cannot dispel it or shake it

Cannot break it up or even put it in a bind

The eyes that seized up my whole being with a stare

A sense of what's inside you- that Other Kindred Kind

Even as years prove we're rife with humanity 

And all of the countless limitations of that race

I cannot cease from romanticizing your presence 

The oddly-deep gouge you've carved in time and space

It's not as if I'm unaware my light is dim these days

I merely hoped it'd go to use before it rapidly decays

Ella Runciter

Pull me from my dream

Or someone's dream, it's never clear

And tell me why you've come this time- the reason that you're here

Somewhere you must know 

All these standby modes you've put me on are killing me inside

And yet maintained me further than I naturally would have died

Gifts from the past

Moments that will haunt your days for a decade yet to come

Reversions to a previous state where things felt much less numb

The ghosts chew at my soul

A God inside Calamity- I come to rid the world of pain

Until either you or heaven calls me to be with them again

Samhain

If I stand out in this frigid moonlight, I can feel the whisper waters,

And finally there is use again for this pain that always bothers 

The advantage of a weary soul that detests its carnal binding,

Is the ease in which it pulls the dead out from their place of hiding

Yes, I can hear them calling to me— the voices from beyond the veil,

The warnings and the mournings and the future things that they entail. 

It's still exciting as the first time that I looked to the abyss,

Always thinking it's the last time as my life goes more amiss,

But slowly do the years go by and each October's end,

I've been gifted this small blessing like an old familiar friend

This sporific power makes the space between us rend

Heals the homesick hearts as they go on— makes it possible to mend. 

Time                         find

upon                         And

Time                         find 

upon                         And 

Time                         find

Seek out Seek out Seek out Seek out Seek out Seek out Seek out Seek out Seek out Seek out Seek out Seek out Seek out 

forget It forget It forget It forget It forget It forget It forget It forget It forget It forget It forget It forget It forget It

Stay                          time 

put                            Upon 

Stay                          time 

put                            Upon 

Stay                          time 

Whatever

Waiting all the while

And not even a fraction of as patiently as I pretend

Working until I could work no longer

Crying until I could cry no longer 

Driving until I could drive no longer

Walking until I could walk no longer 

Finally 

A moment's rest

I nervously glance at my shoes

Knowing sometime earlier I wore through the soles

Oh, great 

I'm honestly too medicated to be awash in horror 

I merely observe the blood

Because it appears I also wore through my feet  

Kali Yuga

an era 

an apex

this is when the greatest numbers of words are being said

this is when the fewest numbers of words are being heard 

a weed was once a flower out of place 

now it is merely a weed 

a lie, often before a mere lack of information 

is itself, now a lie 

deliberate

begging for our damnation 

we have fully succumb to the Maya 

until the born-blue rose 

arises from the cobalt isotope radiation

witnessed by the light of stars 

that we will never see 

Ringmaster

You do not know 

And you will not know 

What the magician has planned for the end of the show 

Nor what painstaking lengths at which he did go

To ensure it is so

And it will never be quite clear 

What machinations brought him here

Or what exactly he held so dear 

Merely mumbles of something about his career 

Murmurs of something you didn't quite hear 

For years to come; those sleights of hand 

The sheer precision of collected command

The details you missed in the mists and the sand

Such a simple schema under guise so grand 

And it all comes full-circle, when the wheels are in motion,

the juggling acts and the senseless devotion

the hastened antidote to a crude and poison potion

Disappearing, reappearing, at mere mention or notion

Breaking out of cages, falling from floors- 

As fluid as the ocean. 

Acer palmatum

It's a surprise

To me it's a surprise

It's a surprise to me to find 

That we 

You 

And I

Are so alike 

I've known blights in my lifetime 

I've known sickness 

I've known the growth that comes from just a little bit of tenderness

of compassion 

I've braved elements 

And they've made me stronger 

I've taken in those forces that howl and bray and beat against me

Internalized them 

Made them useful

To the point in which I've wondered if it is why God put them there 

I've withered

Shirked back in unrelenting heat

Selectively undergoing apoptosis 

Watching 

Gleefully 

As pieces I no longer needed died back and fell away

Only to find 

That I'd killed all the parts that gave me life

I've stood 

Bare and naked to the world

With nothing left for anyone to use

Feeling a burden

An obstacle

And I've heard the mutterings of others

That we should just cut him down

He'll do us in if we don't

You and I 

I'm actually a few years your senior 

Though we both have this presence about us

That makes others remark on our

Ancient wisdom

Did that afflict you as it did me?

Did others count on you to remain 

Stalwart

Upright 

Well-ordered 

While you desperately craved nothing more than a 

helpful stake in the game?

A crutch?

A scaffold

A cross to die on if need be 

I have not known all of your sorrows

For I have not seen my children die before me

But for what it is worth I've had my heart broken 

Shattered into so many pieces 

I died back 

And for a moment 

It looked as if I wouldn't return in the spring

I've learned that growth is painful 

That it requires the relinquishing of so much

Yet it is necessary 

Those that grow tall without established roots

Are doomed to fall 

I see you

And the sense of intimate respect

Implores that maybe you see me too

And that we'll keep growing 

You and I 

And it's a surprise 

Mercury in Pisces Retrograde

For you to have nightmares 

Isn't nearly enough 

No

For you I have prepared 

True horrors 

Manichæn Monstrosities 

From a Long Time Ago

That wait for you in shadows 

Horrors that push thumbs into your eyes

Terrors that catch your tongue in your throat 

Because these are nightmares for you alone

They shall not be related to others 

What's more 

What's worse 

Is that in time you'll see something disturbing 

Something even you can't immediately place

The fact that the walls truly have ears

The human qualities to things inhuman 

And you will scream

Into the air

Into water

Into fire 

Into earth

Into the void that calls you

Sweetly

Alarmingly 

Is that your mother's voice? 

A riot of scripture

A carpenter ant is not a carpenter 

A carpenter bee is not a carpenter 

And I'm rather sure, there exists in hell

A place for well-wishers who wish you well

Who, in pity flock to church and thrive 

Never knowing Matthew chapter 6 verse 5

Who claim their right but never delve 

Into Ephesians chapter 6 verse 12 

Who, when all things are said and done 

Cannot recall Matt 6 verse 1

Who, with their malice seek to hunt thee

While ignoring what John says in 4 verse 20! 🤣

Quite honestly it took me time not to see you as a mirror

To really get to know you and to understand you clearer 

I've loved

to love

to learn

to love 

to listen and to hear you

and I'm quite ashamed of just how much I've needed to be near you

It seems like whiplash knows no bound

with just how much things turn around

And I think, this time, it's finally better

That I'll soon be free from folly's fetter

I just don't want to jeopardize 

The bewitchment of your azure eyes 

The laughter raining in like thunder 

Your continued playful sense of wonder 

The wood tick that I found last night most likely from the garden mud

Has not been the only thing around me trying to feast upon my blood

But just as the tick learned very quick- crushed by my hemostat 

You might pay a price when I'm not so nice to those who feast on blood and fat 

It's as if I've been here before 

It's as if I've been here before

It's as if I've been here before 

Lab Grown

I've heard somewhere there stands a cathedral with panes of Selenite 

But I have seen Vermeil Glass aglow with such a light

Someone once told me nothing nothing beats a Diamond's strength and might

But scientists made stronger stuff from tape pressed on Graphite

And speaking still of Diamonds, of whose price has never fell,

Except to Padparascha Sapphires, Yttrium, and Spinel

The sheen and shine of mica is wanted for its electroconductive gleam,

Until formica ushered in a plastic-coated dream 

The value of these objects has been lessened over time

As God made things in his image 

We learned to trace his crude outline

And when someday this place is bled of the consciousness of Us

There will stand no more a living soul to tell the Diamonds from the Dust 

Cherry Springs

My G-D 

I've never seen anything like this before 

This is what people mean when they say

They have bathed

In moonlight 

My skin

Gossamer

Glowing an ashen blue 

A Lunatic's hue

My eyes

Are they adjusting to see something already there? 

Or could it really be

That these photons from the Dawn of Time 

Erupt before us 

Like some kind of cosmic fucking Lite-Brite 

Studded by angels

His hands 

Are hot as coals in this cold dry air

His gaze betrays the statement that there's nothing on his mind 

He and I 

Awash in moonlight 

Starlight

Car-light 

Streetlight 

Spotlight 

The incandescent light in the loft

Rendering the scars on both of us soft 

For years

I imagine

I'll think back to this oft 

My G-d

My skin 

My eyes

His hands 

He and I 

He and I

His hands

My eyes

My skin

My G-d

Housing Crisis

They pay the gardeners here 

a few dollars above minimum wage 

unsure if it is to assuage their pride or guilt 

that stirs under a haze of chemicals 

the SSNDRI and benzodiazepene fog

that softens the ticks of a first-generation grandfather clock in the foyer

resting on a laminate floor that will never warp into a platform the way a traditional parquet would 

no, not with all these gypsum layers and concrete 

steel rebars firming the foundation 

affirming

reinforcements reinforcing the infrastructure 

in more ways than two 

construction materials constructing an explanation 

foundations echoing founding father sentiments 

about the need for this monstrous suburban Sodom 

and checkerboard lawns 

and mulched flower beds full of uninteresting plants 

hybridized

sterilized

with whatever utility left in them robbed 

by pesticides 

fungicides

herbicides

Hell, even suicides 

their chances of evoking such fragile sentiments into such a medicated miasma are slim to none 

This dead fucking landscape

people, they aren't found dead in their homes here

they're carted off, instinctively 

a rolling stone gathers no moss 

a cookie-cutter house gathers no ghosts 

no

these places are a means to an end 

never the end

they're barely repainted before being sold 

by middle aged couples thinking of 

retirement

and downsizing from their empty enormous edifices

and tapering the Prozac that helped them cope with work 

and putting their parents into the county home 

and because they didn't fit in at bars anymore and there was nothing to do on a weeknight

Places that are somehow both rural and metro adjacent 

Where you can still smell city smog

and cow shit 

Oblivious to their utter lack of "somethingness"

of character that saturates the surroundings 

The ancient farmhouses laying abandoned

or at the very least unkempt

Historic walks where millions marched 

in cities 

against hate,

against injustice, 

against despicable working conditions,

and for holiday bar crawls 

The ancient woods just beyond the white vinyl fencing of their backyards 

keeping dogs and children contained 

right past the drainage fields that the neighborhood strokes their egos over 

because a documentary stirred something in them 

prompting them to leave a little milkweed 

too-little too-late

to feel bad for the butterflies

they killed all the seasons before

by planting lilacs to attract them

and saturating the very same in imidocloprid

a deceptive and cruel gesture 

These woods

these woods with ancient dams built by indigenous tribes

You can stand here 

on structures older than this nation

time before white man's ridiculous adherence to linear time 

to when calendars rotated in cycles

Even amongst these ancient ideals and icons these woods are unique 

in this aptly-named Sylvan State- most of the forests are new growth

mostly monotonous mountains 

comprised entirely of oak 

practically a clonal colony 

when acorns sink into scorched soiled

from either God's wrath

or slash and burn strategy 

these woods are old, old, old growth 

roots buried into boulders

of slate

serpentine

Brandywine blue stone

Wissahickon schist

It has adapted

to the fluoridated carbons in the creek

to the invasive sap-sucking insects ferried in from somewhere foreign 

to the newly-razed park trails made by a community longing to reconnect with nature 

the kind of busy people who pull their SUVs to the shoulder of a highway in rush hour traffic 

to look at a sunflower field bewildered and embarrassed 

and feeling everything they've lost 

Odds are it'll stand 

even when the people in the houses are gone

showered with radioactive isotopes

or smothered by rising carbon dioxide 

or smote in their search for a quantum trace of השם.

I love sleeping next to you in bed at night 

Though my presence seems to be such a burden

I'm ever-appreciatice of the gesture and gift 

The smell of your hair and your skin 

The sound of the air kicking on 

The feel of the breeze from the fan

The sound of an alarm set to pull you away

The tangle of my arms to enare you 

The stubble on your chin, the brush of your lips 

As you groggily recount to me your dreams 

Oh god how I adore hearing your dreams 

And sitting groggily across from you at 

The breakfast table 

Or your desk 

Depending upon the hour 

Or your schedule 

Or my desire to see you succeed 

Bleary-eyed and amazed at how the simple things you 

Do in the morning come across so adroit to me in my sleepiness 

You, the master of mornings

Allowing me into your world 

How does thou overcome?

I need to get paid

I need to get laid

I need to add up to more than the mistakes that I've made

I need lose weight

I need to create

I need to bring to the table at least as much as my mate

I need to keep straight 

I need to see fate 

I need to recognize that getting shit in order is lifting up the weight 

I need to inspire 

I need to reach higher 

I need to love with love not known before

Love that adds to even more 

Than you could fathom 

Let alone require 

Conowingo

I look down at the phone and I realize it's you

and I'm really quite embarrassed at just how-

Washed over I become with the feeling of relief 

Knowing I can be here for you now

When I think of how much you mean to me

And how out of balance this always seems to get 

I look down at the phone and I realize it's you

And I feel a warmth and a comfort I cannot forget 

April Showers

I've been waking up in the morning

Early and excited- in a way I haven't felt in years

I catch myself crying and laughing in this cool dawn 

So happy to laugh and to cry in this range

That isn't numb and aloof

Or unbearably close and extreme

I wake up and I'm in love with you

I wake up and I'm in love with you

And I'm beginning, I think,

To love myself too 

I've been thinking 

really thinking 

not in that fickle, fleeting, absent-minded way you've come to know

for months now

and still, now

three or four, for sure, but perhaps for even more

still I'm lost for words

and I was always good with words

but this concept cuts me down so deeply I can't help but to succumb

to a cacophony of distractions meant to drown out the painful hum

restore the numb

I've regressed

and now I've said it, or rather typed it- I admit that I've regressed 

I've retreated into this retrograde state of being I detest 

This immature and childish victim who's always lonely and depressed 

When did this start?

My memories are always fuzzy when it comes to things so close to heart

I can't recall the spark inside me dying 

Sometime before those days in bed where I couldn't cease the crying

Before the Zoloft at least instilled inertia to keep on trying

It must have been some time ago 

How long was I denying?

I should've known six months ago what kept the words trapped in my head 

And with that knowledge I should've made the changes that my dreams had so implored

But my heart is, and was, and will always be so full of hatred for this role

And so I gave myself permission to leave the messages ignored

It may not be the way to live; it might seem as if I never try

All that artificial willpower was the closest I could muster

While wearing a sheep skin that fused painfully to the form 

Corroded my wings, stole every bit of ephemeral luster

So here I am in much the same manner as before

Rolling my eyes at the atonement that I'll have to now convey

And soon enough repeat the cycle to meet the demands of this place 

Doing whatever necessary to get through another day.

O Come The Holy Messenger, Transcribed in RNA

A monster 

On a mission 

A mutation

The kind that could only be considered an Action of an Angry God

A malady 

Incurred mortality 

A sea of sickened bodies growing cold on Easter Day

And the mendiants

For mendicants

Who have lost their will to pray

The masses

Mourn the ashes

The memories and mothers in the furnaces burned to gray

Mounds

For morticians

Clutching desperately to respirators until the toxic fumes allay

Mood Stabilizers in place of the Mood of a Stable

One pill, a day, doesn't quell voices-

and two pills doesn't help me make choices;

Though it does make it clearer which of the whispers are real.

Three pills, I found, were rather effective-

At both clearing the head and instilling some directive;

I just wasn't able to give up the power to feel. 

Another pill, the tapes, the therapy- 

Meant to manage the anxiety;

Every time that work beckons or I glance at a call.

Then the stupid, and useless, breathing techniques- 

For the insurmountable tension that peaks;

That freezes me right in my tracks in an unwanted stall.

And yet, worst is, the pain-

That manifests in my shoulders but is all from my brain;

I've yet to find a pill, a patch, or poison that could even make a dent. 

Going in, to dismay, and always so late-

cursing myself for making them wait;

Rushing in to disappoint them all again tonight,

Ignoring, snoozing, silencing pleas-

That emanate from my core filling me with unease;

Reminding me that till I change my path I will never feel alright. 

Driving away, wishing, of a life instead- 

Where I'm up with the dawn and climbing out of my bed;

Waking up from the dreams where I dared to make a start. 

Growing, taking, the crops in the field-

Restoring arable land and its power to yield;

My heart and soul poured in the earth, sowing to ready the fields, sewing the tears in my heart.

Trading Sleep to See You

I've lived a hundred lifetimes in the time we spend apart,
Thinking over the experiences and what I should convey,
But when, at last, I'm in your arms- I delete the files and press restart,

I muse each day on what to tell you I've seen coming in your chart,
Or the injuries and spiders that cause me to howl and bray,
I've lived a hundred lifetimes in the time we spend apart,

Weekly caught up into something new; some philosophy or work of art,
And for the swiftest of ephemeral moments--it seems that all will be okay,
But when, at last, I'm in your arms- I delete the files and press restart,

It's not from trying not to tell you; one can't miss the mark without the dart,
I just like to freeze up when I see you--and I love to hear about your day,
I've lived a hundred lifetimes in the time we spend apart,

New and fresh experiences that I thrive on, new takes on bitter-acrid-pungent-tart,
A black and white scenario where my perspective brings up gray,
But when, at last, I'm in your arms- I delete the files and press restart,

I must seem pathetic for only showing week-to-week my broken heart,
With a laughable libido I try to keep from making me a lousy lay,
I've lived a hundred lifetimes in the time we spend apart,
But when, at last, I'm in your arms- I delete the files and press restart

Congested sinuses hiding the rot,
The body breaks down in a place he forgot,
Aerogel,
A wicked smell,
That erodes a living, breathing man- who consumes by drips this draught,

Admittedly ashamed that things won't seem to turn around,
Looking backward at the past when love and promise were abound,
Oblivion,
Would be a sin,
So the memories linger like a faded abstract whose full text will never be found,

Dreaming of a day without this shoulder ache,
That drives me toward a spinal break,
The cruel distractor,
My work's detractor,
Compensating for this strong dissociation where I sleep when I'm awake

I already know I'm no longer the ten,
One at the top of his game, one of those coveted men,

Men who the world bends over backwards to please,
Trapped in my slightest smile or in a harmless tease,

If you're out to pull me from rose-colored visions,
To remind me of reality's distraught conditions,

Just remember that I've known this truth through the ages,
And it isn't your place to remind the captive of cages,

Don't scrape the plaster or paper of the layers of paint,
They cover the burns of a martyr and saint,

The stigmata bleeding is to evoke a remembrance,
That you won't ever worship me in the smallest of semblance,

And if within my eyes you cannot find your God,
I could always cut them out; replace them with a better-suited mod

In Remembrance of Who He Was

I get asked what I've been doing to correct this situation,
As if I've been idle and coasted through some respite or vacation,
As if I haven't had to live through stopping short of every expectation,

Nothing in life prepared me for the chance I'd lose my mind,
There was illness in my family but nothing of this kind,

Had I known I'd have planned things out in dreadful anticipation.

Science has shown that memories are encoded while we sleep,
That short-term turns to long-term for the things we need to keep,
And what's left is then discarded- ceased from being left to steep,

But for me there's some malfunction and though I sleep and often dream,
The memories stay suspended- colloidal like butterfat in cream,

And I'm left searching for contextual clues amongst the spoiled heap.

Have you ever needed post-it notes to remind you who you are?
Then compared them with how you used to be- that potential rising star?
Trying to perform the skills you've learned feels like pulling them from tar?

I get up each morning to another thing I can no longer seem to do,
Crippled, crawling on the earth with only memories of when I flew,

Self-doubt instills in you this deep belief that you should have never come this far.

If you think that's the worst part you haven't thought through this disease,
A funny thing begins to happen when your memories are no-longer trusted keys,
Insidious it starts to change from that pressure and unease,

It starts to feel like everything and everyone are just a dream,
Too nerve-damaged to pinch yourself; you seek to find and tear the seam,

Try to guess if what you heard was real or did acute sense hide hallucinatory tease?

Grieving while I'm still aware of missing parts of what was once a gestalt whole,
Mourning bleak disconnection from the ancient spirit in my soul,
In vain attempting to collect the contents spilling from this broken bowl,

And I'm admittedly guilty of collecting friends who also longed to die,
Gorged on range of their emotions when I was only capable of aloof detachment and a pseubulbar cry,

Collecting their experiences- what an ostentatious goal!

If I caused this all to happen, yes, then I admit regretting what I've done,
I'd admit the price does not measure up for those scattered bits of fun,
And I blame myself more than the excuse of natal positions of the planets around the sun,

Blame myself before I blame abuse by a father who himself had never seemed to heal,
Blame myself before the lover who broke my heart so deep I'd learn the hard way just how low mankind can feel,

Believing mistakes were all part of my destiny, spinning stories to justify the act of being spun.

Someday it will not matter because I'll lose awareness of this addled brain,
Whatever part of me that lingers here will be ignorant of no-longer being sane,
Perhaps that gesture shows the Holy Ghost is at least somewhat humane?

If any of you know me when that happens; consider this informed consent,
End this weary incarnation and hasten the time in sorrow spent,

Return me to the stuff of stars, release me from the pain.

Forever a team player- I will work to help the team,
With fervor I will give all myself if it will manifest the dream,
Not seeking to build up the way for someone who won't take part,
Bitch beware of adding pressure lest your skin be burned with steam,

I am well aware I need to balance my head and soul and heart,
So I'm out here doing groundwork that you never seem to start,
And for someone with no initative to propose to me a plan,
You better get off of that god damn high horse and help to haul this fucking cart

We all know there's no "I" in team or you'd give it all you can,
The way you give your cheap-ass bangs a shot to frame that square jaw of a man,
We can work this out together or you can get out of my space,
Where there's smoke there will be fire don't be the dumb whore with a pan

I'm prepared to help with anything you think that could hasten up the pace, 
But if you seek to just give orders you better get out of my fucking face,
I will bury you in red tape till no one can hear you scream,
If my first impression didn't work, let's try the one you can't erase.

Damntrak

Asking too much given the little I bring to the table,
Advantage taken from your powerful presence held to try and feel somewhat stable,
Used the usual charms,
To remain in your arms,
Unrelenting unease for unfairly selecting your soul to be the savior in this fable,

Sure to drive you o'er the edge with my hopeless consternation,
Pathetic woe for sorry souls and the lack of our salvation,
Drank the warmth out of your smile,
Removing mysteries behind my style,
Till the only time I'm good for is killing time left at the station,

Hope you realize I may not grow to be more together or methodic,
Though it's not as if I expect of you to be more erratic or quixotic,
My fear is that I will not quell,
All your urges 'fore the dirge's knell,
Though at least we know using this shell is something you find erotic.

The beautiful butterfly born from you broke my bitter boyish heart

I cringed at the crimson chrysalis you created by crying each crystal clandestine tear

The ones that seared my sinner's skin like iron spokes that set the sigils on the steer

Awake, agape, awash with anguish at the agonizing thought that we soon would be apart

Your future form, fervent and fearsome, is also fickle and flighty too,

I wish I could crawl with that crazed creative caterpillar that could consume carafes of caffeine

Her idiosyncratic impulses invigorated the insecurity of eyes insane and blue

I wonder does she still wish from willing wanderlust- the way she did as a wayward teen?

Lactic Acid Improving Taste but Rotting My Muscles

To avoid the inconvenience lock me in that heart-shaped box,
Give it time to mellow out the flavor of the acid in the must,
It's far too caustic now to deal with,
Allow it to settle in the dark and the dust,

I won't be pushed out until I'm more complacent
Age is bound to spoil me- I'm not some brine or pickle,
And for the countless jabs thrown at my nature,
I'm not nearly as immature and fickle,

Drop the call if that's what you need,
But I'd caution that cycle you've deemed antiquated,
It's encased in these moments where you're feeling unheard,
Would I have gained that much more insight in that one second waited?

Solomon

When armageddon finally calls and returns this world to dawn,
When these carnal forms are ripped down to electrons from the bombs,
When there isn't quite an "us" to sense- those sentiments are gone,
We'll be, at once, at peace again etched in scriptures and in psalms

I can hardly finish anything when I feel so crudely finished

Brushes my arms-
he searches my neck for the kill switch
Strikes my head inside an iron bell-
to snuff me out quite like a candle
Shrouds me like he drapes an aviary-
like how peasants bind a witch
Pauses to look me in the eye-
sits me high upon a shelf until I'm something he can handle

The dust wears me down-
Settles in hair each time a lover puts me here to sit in stasis
In terror I sit-
as the spiders crawl out and their webs anchor me to this place
My resolve keeps me content-
The thought of being together means I'll grit and bear and face this
As time takes all that is left-
As it wears down my features and leaves lines on my face

Ambrosia

Blood
Is a primordial fluid
Incarnate forms and their rudimentary systems
Carrying hemocyanin and hæmolymph
To the tissues of cells not yet ready to receive
The ambrosia
The memory of time
Tasting of iron
This human blood
Even if poisoned
Or dialyzed
Or addled with drugs

It is the only thing in this form I have known longer than the quarter century I have spent here

Long before everything,
before the warmth of an anxious womb
a waning moon cast forth
On the storm of the century
Of which I was a harbinger
This red liquid filled with memories of cells set to kill
Is the very same fluid that God-fearing men once referred to as Ichor

Imagine if the deserts of the world existed,
To only those who believed in the concept of sand,
Now imagine the power that could come from your conscious,
Reality would submit to your will and command,

It's a crazy sort of magic designed to take the pain from the folly of Man,
Imagine if one could manifest the fixed beliefs that form delusion?
And use those powers to paint the facts in gorgeous shades of roses,
Marked as wicked and deceitful for crafting beautiful illusion

And I'll I search for in the journey is my Virgil- a hell's companion,
Someone to save me from the rampant throes of isolation,
As I make peace with this carnal form and my utter disappointment,
Because they cannot understand the will of God and the spark of their creation

Peroxide Poltergeist

That part of you that feels quite sick
When you're lonely and awake, and the world has gone to sleep
Is the part of you that still feels shame
For living the lifestyle of the sheep

Who can blame you for that form
The one you appropriately chose based on the scratches on your heart
That cry out for Endymion
The shepherd that saw your Titan form without a name, a clue, a chart

Admittedly I still take pride in seeing who you are
Because even you have separated from the skin that tastes of stars and chance
I wish you'd long just a little harder
Maybe then you'd see the aching girl still craves that midnight moonlight dance

Virgil

If you really want to know a man
If you want to know him well
You have to hold onto his hand
And ferry him through hell.

Not even a metaphor

There are webs and swaths of spiders living in my precious things,
From furniture to photo albums; they don't discriminate,
The irony of this cosmic joke is the kind of pain it brings,

A fuzzy one upon a lamp may be large amongst the kings,
But he is a mere marble against the female's fearsome weight,
There are webs and swaths of spiders living in my precious things,

They evoke a sensory response- I swat my arms until it stings,
I would not in a million years have ever guessed this was my fate,
The irony of this cosmic joke is the kind of pain it brings,

Writhing on the undersides and skittering over strings,
And worst off are the things in boxes, they've infested every crate,
There are webs and swaths of spiders living in my precious things,

I found them in the jewelry box when I found my missing rings,
Their egg sacks cling to everything as they feed and and grow and mate,
The irony of this cosmic joke is the kind of pain it brings,

I cringe as they scurry toward my hands, as each one jumps and flings,
Their infestation evidence that my sentimental heart's the bait,
There are webs and swaths of spiders living in my precious things,
The irony of this cosmic joke is the kind of pain it brings

I had an awful lot of trouble explaining just what I felt in my shoulder and my spine,
This is easily the worst it's ever hurt and I'm trying not to consign,
Choking back tears till they feel like bees that sting a tongue chelating in brine,
I'm fighting back this fucking urge to rip my teeth out till the roots drip like crimson vine,
Can you see why then, when it reached my neck, why I was rendered speechless? Without a line?

Pink Cloud

The second, third, or fourth time that I hit the old pink cloud,
I stopped myself from feeling dread and simply laughed aloud,
Knowing full well I should be ashamed; I couldn't help but to feel proud,
And I may not have boasted to everyone but I sure did amongst that crowd,

Because there comes a point, a place in time, where I'm just glad to have survived,
To have caused as little damage and maybe in some ways thrived,
I'm not some hopeless, hapless sap needing constantly revived,
I watched my head in shallow waters every time I dived,

I won't defend a way of living that I wouldn't recommend,
I can't begin to tell you of the things in life it brings screeching to an end,
It costs a pretty penny too, one you probably shouldn't spend,
And eventually taking all that risk demands that something to either hell or heaven send

I'm only gonna say this once- so it get it through your head,
There's not a thing I wouldn't do to block the voices of the dead,
Not a spell or sin I would omit to charm you back to bed,
Because every second without distraction is one I'm overwhelmed with dread

But the stressors are what drives me to speak and act this way,
I use their presence just to justify what's done to get me through the day,
And to show I might have purpose still- despite the fact I'm gay,
Despite the innumerable messages that tell me not to stay,

There's still substantial bits of me that believe this all can stop,
That since I wasn't always like this I might still halt this drop,
If I'm lucky I'd feel just a bit of my old yearning for the top,
Become the man they all want me to be- initiate some cosmic swap,

But fighting hard against these bits are the bits who want to drown,
Who yearn to ache and bleed all over every memory of this town,
The part of me who justifies anything to not feel down,
A withered crooked clandestine creature with a ring of smoke his crown,

To me the part I struggle with is I can't seem to confront,
The people close who look at me and see only what they want,
Their facetious feign of ignorance like poachers claiming not to hunt,
Saying nothing, merely praying I won't pull another stunt

Mutable Signs

There comes these points in space and time where something has to happen,
When God calls on the ones like me to make the bonds unfasten,

The solvent to dissolve the glue- to undo the firm adhesion,
While mankind screams in agony as we expose each wound and lesion,

Without this form of torture you would never get to grow,
You'd never get to germinate the seeds you seek to sow,
To cultivate the garden that can tell you what you want to know,
First you have to thaw the frost- you have to melt away the snow,

No decision that was difficult was ever made in comfort's space,
You have to make them burn or bleed and long for some other place,
A sharp and crooked knife threatens to scar  their pretty face,
Evoking fondness of the time before the moths came in and chewed away the lace,

Don't think I'm saying there's not value in the fixed and cardinal ways,
They establish the order needed to carry out the passing days,

Oh, misunderstood and mutable, accused of chaos bringing doom,
Will any of you realize Cosmos is who builds your resting tomb?

Fair Weather

When you live in a world with such few limitations,
Hearing any excuse is a waste of your patience,

It leads you to wonder how much time that they've wasted,
Looking for some common ground to feel their deeds reciprocated,

But I've never found trouble with any endeavor,
My friendship never turned fickle for inclement weather,

Through perilous journeys I've always commuted,
For business or pleasure- neither duty refuted,

That small car has made it on journeys over an hour,
I guess a sense of work ethic equates to some hidden power

Perhaps that difference is why I get paid in six numbers,
In the time that excuses leaves them aging in slumbers

The Weekend

Anxious
Lonely
Swimming through this dismay
Tired
Aching
I'd settle for just knowing a bit about your day
Wishing
Somber
I hope I haven't worked some silent nerve
Wayward
Bleeding
Have you come to see I'm less than you deserve?

Visitation

Hunter
at a loss
when I saw you
this new form of yours'
you knew to distract me
to keep me from questioning
and what an extraordinary gift it was!
to bask in your presence
just spending time
with my friend
thank you
Hunter

I was here before here was here- before they instilled so much regime,
A time when Angels bedded women,
Before Deluge made silent every scream,
And I carry with me all the pain,
Of the ground that houses all the dead,
I carry on despite this fact, despite knowing it's in vain,
I try to make this world the place of beauty in my head,
The world around me mocks my foolishness,
While I pretend that I don't care,
Even if all the world was hopeless,
I'd still remind them God is there
My name embodies philosophy, Who is Like God?, Mîkhā'ēl
Who knows existence as this greatness but stays trapped in carnal shell?
And for this ardous task I seek out comfort in a mate,
Someone to hold some of the despair that I gather as my fate

Fat Salmon

Something rather remarkable- the way the candles frame his face,
They map the lines just right,
Embossed by night,
As I glower under neon signs I can't help but feeling out of place,

Something in his simple view of things that seems so profound yet not complex,
Leaving me each time to ponder
Heart growing ever-fonder,
A man willing to sustain my need for agony if I sustain his need for sex,

Something that one seldom sees on any person but a child,
His delighted smile,
Makes me pause awhile,
In his nature something Cherubim makes the Seraph in me wild,

Something about that genuine sweetness that makes you swear off saccharine,
His virtues never waver,
Not for theif nor traitor,
I think it's compassion, I see, remarkably, in the candle's dreamy din.

I knew the you inside of you
And what it symbolized in me
The pure, unbridled selfishness
The conquest to be free
And even when you screwed me over
And even after you had died
After there was nothing left between us
Bitter burning tears for you I cried
It took a therapist to call me out, for
Making your painful death a beautiful fate
To remind me that you aren't some symbol
A static Marley's ghost shrieking "stop this...wait!"
Hunter, I've simply got to stop this pattern
This chasing after you and blame
This punishment of mind and body
This deep delusion that was our game
It's time for me to try out living
But maybe not with all I've got
Maybe extremes seemed right when love had left us
Two broken kids the world forgot.

Jericho gave way at last, but it would only last so long,
The pleasure in an ephemeral moment of a life without duress,
A nullifying stupor; soporific warble in a song,
A place where I could still amount to something but not surmount the stress 

And moons and ghosts and visions tricked me- serving to validate my claim,
Stifling my manic fervor and teasing me with open doors,
Awakening stifled intuitive gifts to show me that their waste is such a shame,
Blowing wind in my sails for a perilous journey but stocking nary a scrap in my stores,

You made your mistake in revealing your motive,
For it's the same now as it was way back then,
To show that I've given all there is to give,
That my life is over in this life led by men,

But I'm willing to conjecture- evidenced by your persistence,
That you hadn't thought to factor in my love of carnal vice,
That maybe I might stay alive out of spite and stark resistance,
Awash in mortal treats of sex and jewels and dreams and cash and ice

Bucky

I needed the chance to see him tonight
I was counting on the chance encounter where we could finally talk this out
There's so much I need to say to him
I wasn't well-braced for this clout

I needed the chance to see him tonight
I figured his shade was already en route
That this force I've felt since the eclipse
Was a bite of the strangled fruit

I needed the chance to see him tonight
I spent the money and I lost out on sleep
There was a decision I was planning on making soon after,
It seems Endymion can't hold onto his sheep

I needed the chance to see him tonight
I don't want your secrets that coat me like slime
The medium must've been rather scared of you,
But someone somewhere will give us our time

Psychic

Saline and 8 balls make a sickening slurry
Madras and lime leaves make too-sweet a curry,
2 hours sleep makes makes me hustle and hurry
Pure anhedonia makes everything blurry

Deep Tissue

The stomach-turning cacophony of bone grinding on bone,
Reminding every mortal man that his time spent here will end,
And should he use this time unwisely it will end with him alone,

It's clear to me this constant pain is a sign of sins I must atone,
Despite the fact there there is nothing I wouldn't do or wouldn't lend,
The stomach-turning cacophony of bone grinding on bone,

I'm not sure how to comprehend the cease of quiet with a moan,
If we've got feeding and fucking covered- is there time for me to mend?
And should he use this time unwisely it will end with him alone,

Stipulated silence is not something I can condone,
To that effect I'd rather hear each tangential trend,
The stomach-turning cacophony of bone grinding on bone,

I reserve my right to act as youth- though the world made me a crone,
I choose to take face value in the messages you send,
And should he use this time unwisely it will end with him alone,

Perhaps this labile way of acting is something to bemoan,
But I can feel these cracking bones and someday they will not bend,
The stomach-turning cacophony of bone grinding on bone,
And should he use this time unwisely it will end with him alone,

Fish

The shudder of the cosmos shrieks in sorrow 'cross the veil,
Longing to prevent that piece of star from being torn,
I cannot put in words the wisdom carried from this gale,
It comes to those who recall the things they were before they're born,
If warmth and air bring you the comfort of that precious breath of life,
Remember that the frigid waters of the Styx are where I dwell,
I'm not accusing you of ignorance- I can taste your grief and strife,
But they are naught to damnation deep within the frozen lakes of hell

Weaver

Upon your mind the impulse raids,
The weaver weaving Weaver shades,

Sordid secrets in your loom are spun,
And every Weaver loves a gun,

In tapestries of surging tide,
I see your lust for homicide,

Matrilinial countenance upon your face,
How she would hate it take that place,

Upon the starry eyes of a loving child,
Who choked back tears and only smiled,

Do you feel that bloodlust setting in?
That Ray did when he couldn't win?

Or will you join, instead, your mother?
Because every Weaver takes another.

Angelica archangelica

Walking with the Nephilim in the world before the flood,
Metatron was sealed inside a mass of flesh and blood,
Serving now as Enoch, collecting all of mankind's tears
He was then called to the Throne of God- for his work of many years,

And it is he Who is Like God? This creature, Mikha'el,
Who looks upon this empty world and awaits the war with Hell,
And no amount of magic or his grasp of Shades from Sheol,
Will ever be enough to staunch the heartache of the fool

Until the final breath draws out of the lungs inside my chest,
I'll still hold onto the belief that all is for the best,
And when the earth is finally gone, and the new world comes to be,
I only hope that unlike Enoch; I will be set free. 

Laura

The sex and sweat and blood and guts; a vision of the true and insane
Laura Palmer
The greedy men who did you wrong all rushed up in a sweep of cocaine

Method

melt and render, crack and break
and take
and take
and take
and take

growing numb to this steady ache
that hurts me every time I wake

the smell of roasting skin in a hellfire bake
made for the sins I oft partake

cut some slack for damnation's sake
already burning at the stake

Changeling

Overcome with anguish each time I wake up in this skin,
Longing every moment for someone who understands,
Who would want to know this feeling and to sense my form within?

My goals are earned for others' sake; I work to make this body thin,
Keeping suicidal thoughts at bay by taking on crushing demands,
Overcome with anguish each time I wake up in this skin,

But lofty goals are difficult when you'd rather die than win,
And feeling like an object when they crave my mouth and hands,
Who would want to know this feeling and to sense my form within?

I'm waved off as melodramatic or accused of sordid spin,
For my way of knowing people and the things their heart commands,
Overcome with anguish each time I wake up in this skin,

I think back to the ghostly child who felt the brush of ancient kin,
Who evoked the fear in feeble men more oft than finding any fans,
Who would want to know this feeling and to sense my form within?

Whether fair folk be, aos sidhe, a demon, or a djinn,
I only say with certainty that I hail from distant lands,
Overcome with anguish each time I wake up in this skin,
Who would want to know this feeling and to sense my form within?  

Catching Up

If you counted my initiatives each dark and lonely morning
The amount of times I said I'd form the words that are adorning-

the fragile grasp I have on life as the ice forms slick and stealthy
as I try to do it right this time- as I try to keep this healthy

I'm weighted by the choices that I cannot seem to shake
The patterns and the habits that I never truly break

The method to my madness that once left me nearly dead
I'm aware of repetition and the resultant sense of dread

And though I fear much for my safety; I'm far more concerned with you
I get so wracked in shame and guilt and waiting for my queue

I can't believe just how much love for you I did procure
That chance that I would let you down is too much to endure

I tried to warn you early on that I was not a winning prize
That I'm rife with woe and oftentimes don't function betwixt the thighs

I'm not sure where I'm going next or how to find a resolution
The days of anhedonia deprive me of the drive for a solution

I just hope you know my time with you has been my greatest solace
And I hope I do not burden you with this path- wayward and goalless

Poisonous

It's powder
in liquid
it's callous
intrepid
its onset
rapid
its user
vapid
it's potent powder
in lurid liquid
it's carelessly callous
but intrepid
and its onset
so rapid
damn its user
so vapid
it's just potent powder
poured in lurid liquid
listen it's carelessly callous
wicked but intrepid
and its fucking onset
starts so rapid
loving its user
he's so vapid

Indeblue

Of Kisses
     Of Cardamom
          Of Curry

That grin that warms me up and that laugh that fills my soul

Of Sensuality
     Of Cinnamon
          Of Sauces

I've always been a sucker for piercing blue eyes

Of Love
     Of Lavender
          Of Lamb chops

The smell of arousal that wafts from your skin

Wet

Waterlogged
Sopping wet from rain, rain, rain
The putrid smell of stagnant water
Mixed with soil and wriggling larvae
The spores of mold setting in
To leatherbound tomes
Hardcover masterpieces
Paperback pleasures
The collected wonders of a lifetime

How audacious of me to speak out against
The seized labors of my hard work
An unauthorized theft of gifts from lovers
Shut up and just be thankful
They've been made to resemble you

Waterlogged
Spilling blood from pain, pain, pain
The putrid smell of addled tears
Mixed with amphetamines and moth dust
The spores of resentment setting in
To aching muscles
Hardened hearts
Placated pleasantries
The collected bitterness of a lifetime

Home

Years
I was made of smoke and ice
For Years
Before I ever smoked ice
All of those Years
That it took me to grow the mycelium
Taking root o'er the Years
Growing a crystalline crust of salt
Those sparkling layers deprived of their Years
Every memory of the lepidoptera I raised
Tossed in a wastebasket to rot in the Years
I'm expected not only to keep calm
But thankful that I've lost those Years
Working toward little things that make me smile
And humble and sullen and reminded
Not of progress, but only of Years
Where I was broken and dejected
How audacious of me to assert my healing
When all of the Years
I lived a life I wouldn't wish on another
Those Years
Are all you'll permit me to exist in
Years
You know nothing of Years Years Years

The Walrus and The Carpenter II

If you ever love a Selkie; you have to let him swim,
You have to find acceptance as he courses whim to whim,
If you ever try to catch a fish as he shifts in murky sands,
Your hold better be gentle or he'll slip right from your hands,

If you ever try to love a man with scales instead of wings,
Remember this is not his world and the kind of pain that brings,
If you ever need to take some time to sort out your clouded head,
Remember in those spans of time he has lingered with the dead,

If you ever spend your time with fishes swimming north and south,
Try to imagine what they hear from the words poured from your mouth,
If you ever look into their eyes and see that haunting light,
Try to see the stormy ship that trudges through the night,

If you ever pull back hesitant from the warmth felt from their touch,
Be prepared for icy gales when they feel they've been too much,
If you ever try to dry the seas with gusts of thoughtful air,
Be prepared to smell the blood of wounds you've opened there.

I know you want like carbon if cream rises to the top

I know you want this victory to be done for myself,
I know you want to avoid the pedestal or even a higher shelf,
I know you want these recent gains to tie back to my core,
But I hope in time you accept that you steered me to the door,

Like carbon crushed to diamond in that analogy I hate,
Like carbon graphene influenced nanotubes; you influence who you date,
Like carbon nanotubes unleashed new leads; you lead me to success,
But I hope in time that leads to pride instead of causing you duress,

If cream rises to the top, then I'm butterfat- the best,
If cream rises to the top then I'll be thankful for all I'm blessed,
If cream rises to the top then you aren't mixed in all the milk,
But I hope in time you see yourself as marvelous with an ease as smooth as silk.

Selenite and Feldspar in his Box of Zeal

I had to leave you dreaming in that silken swath of bed,
With trepidation I tiptoed to the door,
I had to put in writing all the thoughts stuck in my head

I'm sure there's much you had to do and yet you gave your time instead,
Embarrassed that I loved it so and still I crave for more,
I had to leave you dreaming in that silken swath of bed,

This tender heart of mine beat fast and eagerly it bled,
Melodrama may be my way but I can fuck just like a whore,
I had to put in writing all the thoughts stuck in my head,

Barbecue sauce on fingertips touch lips so kindly fed,
And tomatoes from the market will surpass those from any store,
I had to leave you dreaming in that silken swath of bed,

A sobbing mess at movies tearing up a loaf of bread,
And vanquishing the queen of weeds was an energizing chore,
I had to put in writing all the thoughts stuck in my head,

These memories I'm making with you make me long for life instead,
The possibilities are endless I have hopes and hymns galore,
I had to leave you dreaming in that silken swath of bed,
I had to put in writing all the thoughts stuck in my head.

You should be some sort of motivational speaker

Oftentimes I found the hardest pills to swallow-
Could be crushed up and snorted instead,
So the singsong advice you're so eager for me to follow,
Is really the same advice that nearly rendered me dead.
I feel sick to my stomach, I'm sick down deep in my marrow,
And filling up inside with this dread,
Filling up all that space that you claim is so hollow,
Choking up all the wisdom that I'm being force fed,
I smell the fat blackened, all the gristle and tallow,
Where now I'm so sluggish I once quickly sped,
To this temple where all that you hail and you hallow,
Reeks of the dead parts around me I shed

This fucking lunar eclipse

Can't you feel the pressure pulling pools of pristine ocean blue?
The tension in the tender tugging of the veins inside of you?
The stomach-churning staccato that feels like spinning out on stilts?
The weather wearing down the whetstone where the workman worrys and wilts?

Midnight pacing

Kissing
Rolling in warm sheets and blankets
Shielded and protected from worrying
I love you
I love you
I love you
Greeting the dawn with you is somewhat of a stretch
You're up before then
It's somewhat amusing that the time I reserved for my private hours eclipses yours'
I love you
I love you
I love you
For the little it's worth
For all that I'm worth
If that worth were worthy of your love
I'll kiss you
Roll you in warm sheets and blankets
Shield and protect you from worry
I love you
I love you
I love you

Calm

Love with you takes time,
That's why the hours melt away so fast,
It's love that's packed in water and salt,
Not the heavy sugar syrup that I cherished in the past,
Love with you is what it is,
It's not enlarged to show the texture or removed of all the pits,
It's love that tastes of bleeding,
Because this love means staying sober and bearing life with our wits,
Love with you makes me smile,
Even with tears in my eyes I find I'm grinning ear-to-ear,
It's the feeling in the dead of night,
I finally found someone to assuage me of my fear.

Cohabitation

I rinse the sorrows off your body as I nestle in your hair,

The hair that smells like heather in the steaming summer rain,

And still I go unsatisfied despite the fact you care,

I swear it's not intentional; this sadness in my stare,

It's just that I'm addicted to you taking in my pain,

I rinse the sorrows off your body as I nestle in your hair,

And really who could blame me? For your time just won't compare,

Each minute I take greedily till I'm caught up in disdain,

And still I go unsatisfied despite the fact you care,

You know it's really not polite for such a pretty thing to glare,

Or better yet manipulate; your bloodied sleeves to feign,

I rinse the sorrows off your body as I nestle in your hair,

I'm clinging much too close to you, but it's all that I can bare,

I know you must grow weary of the precious things I stain,

And still I go unsatisfied despite the fact you care,

But stars ordained us lovers once; and still we're quite a pair,

Your tragic heart that turned to salt and my gruesome Mark of Cain,

I rinse the sorrows off your body as I nestle in your hair,

And still I go unsatisfied despite the fact you care.

Extraordinary

I've been accused of being distant and of drifting like a ghost,
I've been in love with several souls with a love stronger than most,
I've been a hapless, hopeless wreck quelling kindness just to boast,
I've been perceived a parasite who is feeding off a host,

I've made a few poor choices; some for others but all on my accord,
I've made the walls in lovers crumble till blood poured and poured and poured,
I've made a living dealing with life and death; sucking sorrows by the horde,
I've made the damned stand judgement against St. Michæl with his sword,

I've prayed to God the Father to care for everyone; whether family, foe, or friend,
I've prayed to Selene the Titan to strengthen stitches of the broken hearts I mend,
I've prayed to Ogun the Lwa to break any will that refuses to flex or to bend,
I've prayed to Samæl the Fallen to remember his origin when we come to The End,


I've been the one to hope the winds have merely moved the post,
I've made a grave to sleep in soundly but in death I soon grew bored,
I've prayed that I can heal in hiding and they respect why I pretend,
I've been broken, made a mess, and prayed to somehow stay adored

Major Arcana

deluding The Fool is easy; that's not to say it doesn't hurt
The Magician fought you back; he was outright unkind
rebuking The High Priestess; he knew her intent
The Empress feed; eyes swollen with avarice for love and desire
desperate The Emperor bleeds; permitting this to happen all the time
The Hierophant lies; spontaneity is simply not their nature
ridiculously The Lovers commiserate; but that doesn't make this behavior okay
The Chariot assuaged me; I smirked and fell for it yet again
convinced The Hermit has changed; that I must've been wrong to doubt
The Strength I possess; the fact that I know your nature
now The Wheel of Fortune turns; it's like I'm perpetually paying for my past
Justice administered discreetly; how disingenuous those assertions must have been
while The Hanged Man beseeches; they have no escape from their prison
Death personified; but recoils from their role in repulsion
what Temperance is required; what kind of mendacity will you be using this evening?
The Devil shouldn't be teased; don't think it won't catch up
eventually The Tower falls; and you're not ready for that kind of hardship
The Star extinguished; the kind of realism that rots your dreams
deceptively The Moon hides; you only see the silver lining till the rust spreads out that far
The Sun can burn out dreams; the constant upbeat world limits your growth
swift Judgement is reckless; but wavering conviction is what comes from delay
The World awaits; it's time to admit your intentions

Amanda

I cannot believe I'm just now seeing
the ace of spades that blends so neatly up your sleeve
so much more clever than I'd imagined
poor estimation on my part on your potential to deceive
thankfully I know my trust is valid
retribution of that nature is not your style
you already had this down before I met you
a mastery of keeping all your secrets in your smile
now I see the darker God under the bodice
I'm looking at the demon diverting eyes
the passing years have peeled away my layers
but you deflected observation with your stares toward somber skies
it really is remarkable your talent
that I'm unsure how much of you I know
a grave mistake was to mistake your graves for empty
and forgetting their existence in the beauty of the snow

Regrets

Not saying I wasn't victimized- that part I think we know is fair,
But it was wrong for me claim the feeling wasn't there,
While buried in the evidence, adorned with signs you care,
I'm sorry for exhausting you in every minute you could spare,

I wish I hadn't canceled plans, or I hadn't worked so long,
I'm sorry that I lost my way once you needed someone strong,
For all those careless mishaps in my yearning to belong,
That I took stabs at your character when I felt that you were wrong,

Now I'm not throwing in maturity or the innocence of youth,
For most of it's facetious and we both can see the truth,
It was wrong to point out heartlessness in your poise and social couth,
And I never should have played detective or acted as the sleuth,

Each day I wake up from this bed I made, knowing quite well what I've done,
Then in pure Pisces delusion I distract myself with fun,
Because I've busted all my starlight dreams, I've burned out my own sun,
Too wary of surviving poison- too goddamn scared to use a gun,

So I'm just telling you I'm sorry, that I get I caused pain too,
That each time your light grew fiery red, I dowsed it with my blue,
Swallowing pride I conveyed a wish that someone you should pursue,
Just don't lost the notion once that comes that I always have loved you.

You're smiling at me because you think that it's working,
While we lay in this bed both with tasks and chores shirking,
There's a gleam in your eyes, you're still laughing and smirking,
Those muscles should contract into running- not this twisting and jerking,
Before you're caught unexpected by what's waiting and lurking

The House of Air

I see the value now of the House of Air

braying, some kind of ancient gale

that blows off the dust

collected upon and adorning everything I treasure

making them feel new and alive

how incredible it is; your ability to restore

even the most ancient of beings

by tapering your shrill force to a gentle breeze

a whisper in my ear

a movement across my lips

you've pinned my heart to a clothesline

and swayed it in your breeze

Libra

Like the swirling cocoa in his coffee,
his laughter rolls in warm and thick,
his saccharine soul it coats my weary lips,
Or at the very least it coats my weary dick,

Two hits of him and sure enough I'm addicted to his touch,
And when leaving I'm left craving a fix of other parts,
A reincarnate Libra acting out his ancient role,
He's Anubis with the scales to judge the weight of guilty hearts,

He exists in equilibrium of the body and the mind,
And all the eyes I've been lost in were never quite that blue,
Like the jewel-dust paint of Egypt- they shine deep ultramarine,
The shoals and shores of an Azure sea with men left trembling at the view,

What could I bring to such a man that reeks and tastes of God?
Can I suppress my innate urge to drown him in despair?
How could I ever satisfy the urges of a saint?
The house of water ruptured by the lofty house of air.

you will never be the one she seeks out
at 5am, bleary eyed in the harsh glare of her phone
eager to listen, eager to be heard

I'm still waiting for a night
where I'm not afraid to go to sleep
where waking up won't mean staunching the pain
where it doesn't take a feat of strength just to live with myself
for having not been good enough for you

It's hard to do anything
when everything I've ever done
was to spend the evening in discourse
reporting even the most mundane to the starlight burning in his eyes

Don't you see it doesn't matter?
My hope to submerge,
To keep you in the depths of my love,
Is just a lust- just an urge,
Equally sated by drowning myself in despair.

Advanced Directive

Despite the slight foreshadowing,
Please don't put me in the ground,
Please don't leave me there in such a place,
Where the wind will never touch my face,
Where there'll never be a sound,

I'd rather face my fear of flames,
Than to rest my cells in silk,
Retain some pieces if you need,
But spread the rest like flower seed,
Or mixed in rain-an ashen milk,

I won't feel it there in heaven,
Of course I may feel it from hell,
But to be there I'd feel it anyway,
Until that Revelation day,
When I am slain in carnal shell. 

His

You should've known me when I was great,
When I woke up to face each day,
The whispers of the darkness rolled away,
Cast aside without hesitation,

If you had met me when I was his,
When purpose was given to this existence,
When I had my reason to endure this pain,
Sleeping sweetly above the sounds of deterioration,

I wish you could see my charming glow,
The kind that now I only distantly recall,
Catalyzed, metamorphosed by love,
Shining just as bright as death's ablation

Greg

I ask forgiveness from you, oh gentle child of light,
Your capacity to grasp this depth perhaps caught me off guard,
But the longing for salvation shan't outweigh the calls of night,

Your fingers smell of soil, the verdant life that heals the blight,
But the fat and flesh of fingers will be rendered scorched and charred,
I ask forgiveness from you, oh gentle child of light,

I no longer doubt your prowess, a surprising show of might,
Except you smell of ripened-berry love, not of something raw and marred,
But the longing for salvation shan't outweigh the calls of night,

No question of intention; your morals are plenty right,
Underneath your chainmail armor- I feel the skin upon you scarred,
I ask forgiveness from you, oh gentle child of light,

How strange that gift adorning you has not brought you deeper sight,
Or do you fear of going there and returning mocked and tarred?
But the longing for salvation shan't outweigh the calls of night,

Don't take this sheer dismissal of my loss of urge to fight,
My eyes once shone like yours' my boy, my heart was once as starred,
I ask forgiveness from you, oh gentle child of light,
But the longing for salvation shan't outweigh the calls of  night.

If all you see is the drugs,
you are willfully blind,
choosing to forget the time before them,
basking in the dopamine rush of your love,
the withdrawal of which facilitated my withdrawal,
and a desperate hope to emulate the experience,
that I'll never have again.

Cinco de Mayo

No one was there,
And memories flooded in of you,
The anniversary of such a happy affair,
No one picked up their phones,
As my breathing grew shallow and my muscles seized,
Message Read, Received On, Seen,
As I curled into a ball under my desk,
And screamed into my trembling hands

Lend not fire nor fat nor salt,
The items of mirth and the household gestalt,
Give not thy butter, thy tears, or thy flames,
Unless you know of their weakness; iron scissors and names,
Nary thee give away sparks to thy tallow,
The sweat of thy brow- the blood of thy marrow,

Because the fishes and fairies will promise you wings,
A chance to belong amongst those mystical things,
The warm waters that cleanse you are becoming a broth,
The weight you feel lifted is fat foaming to froth,

Clear out your debts, be sure that they're paid,
Lest your hot water bath be your last marinade,
The ocean that calls them is only salting your skin,
While they season your outsides they pretend to be looking within,

Lend not fire nor fat nor salt,
The items of mirth and the household gestalt.

Vocal Rest

A mishap-
The shortest lapse-
The drugs wore off revealing a gap in my defenses
And I screamed
Low, gutteral, then a blood-curdling wail,
A relentless scream that scratched my vocal cords raw,
I screamed until the air was humid with saliva and traces of blood
Because being whatever this is without you here still hurts as much as it did the first day.
I'll clean this fucking medicine cabinet, cleaning cabinet, liquor cabinet-
Whatever substance can keep me numb,
Because you hurt like a silent scream.

Feeling like a failure,
Every time someone else expects me to find something I want for myself
How many times will they remind me-
My only halfhearted purpose,
To fulfill some obligation out of guilt they instill,
And apologizing the whole time for wanting to die.

I keep on going,
Though I'm slipping up a little more each day,
I've no objective,
No means to justify a life that's spent this way,
My soul is longing,
It's a tired thing that sweetly calls for home,
This carnal prison,
Echoed upon in every novice poem,
Why hang on to this,
If you really cared you wouldn't even think,
With quiet permission,
You put this soul to rest with poisoned drink.