Creep. Inch-Crawl here.
Thrum’p dead weight slide
Join-locked SNAPPED
knee raised /
/
<FOOT) swoop goes
that beast down the alley
of arrow needs || caused my eyes
to hemorrhage S h at tereD my
heart & MIND. Threw away UP
over and beyond hope @shameless
@ erased existenz am i — YES.
:: 10-05-2018 ::
FATIGUED and humbled
are the moments
like stretched-broken
dreams of bottomless
desire // call me never
—desired by no one
My name : emptiness
. Nickname: ruinous.
The earthworm needs me.
Evil curses my tolerance.
The world absolutely
B R O K E N. \\
:: 10-05-2018 ::
I kissed did_Bursting things
where the sleepyHeart (in myself)
my Love burned away the fever
faithless-EyEs
of Individual\BeautyForm
Ephemeral_things-Bursting did,
a paranormalCog-noThing piece
a steamPunk Victor-IAN
fashion BrassLeather beating!
Beating souls in my flowerPot of Things
and only pepperLike
—— dust remains…
:: ~~~ ::
IN the bright sun of a dark day
i sing and sign a work with
a triumphant flourish –killer
signature and in disarrayed eyes
an imprint of a botched incident
you’ll find it you’ll find it
i can hear the dogs of war
coming to get me i hear them
A position of my subject in
humiliation; exposure a bite
in a specific manner, i cover
the face and their hair;
tie ligatures with an unusual knot
— red flowers so crimson they
hide the hate of my heart
A portrait of eyes in a study room
shows a fixation on eyes, taxidermy
young blonde women disavowed;
disemboweled in public holidays,
“red spider” cryptic ink so red
you can find where the dogs begin
to smell them — a sick mind sings
AND I FEEL and i feel when the dogs
begin to smell her — oooh….
some craft a signature for effect
as well to set him apart as
the elite killer.
:: 07-30-2015 ::
AND so the lonely road going
nowhere to-ever and through whistling
a love ballad badly through loose teeth
meant anything behind the wheel
my heart grips it tightly like the aching
need of a lost lover who made me coffee
in morning before sunshine was
swept beneath lying carpets
did i tell you? especially when you
made me popcorn perfectly
the many smallBIGs of what i lost
:: 07-03-2015 ::
Lost my way writing words
on my way back to life
all alone with the One
so exhausted with none
I am so surprised
no suicide
I’m strapped in a chair
with a hanging light bulb sun
and the leather upon my wrists
so tight like honey bees
stinging all the dreams of
my life: I’m just a poet
of silver dreams weeping
and half alive with an empty
gun so I use a pencil to
stab life with all my
empty words
A silver tongue that no one
loves so I write words to
awaken me from my dream
of lonely fields
silver dreams weeping
half alive with an
empty gun
::-::
Love squeezes hate away
and despair into a
‘no-remember’ state
hugeness! and i believe
Large Hadron Collider
world system universe
BANG! And I feel like
the world’s on edge
of new-BORN and will you
take a selfie with me?
A picture to remember
love makes the little
moments precious
and love squeezes hate
and despair! Hey! DAD!
who’s your son? Do you
even know!?! And mother,
our most has died in more
and won’t you take a selfie
so love squeezes hate away
And I no longer care!
:: 05-13-2015 ::
if i lie within
my bed of pain
let’s call her death
and my sheets i’ve woven
entwined dreams of youth
that i took your breasts
within my mouth
i weep!
and to see how life expands
into a thin string of weakness
and of your-heart
and smile
too i’ve seen thinly die
i ate the dreams
from your mouth
and arguments are stupid things
spectral ghosts of hungry love!
but your eyes and lips and hands
are just as ghostly to my heart
as years that creep away
so do you!
:: ~~ ::
You’re so finely woven
a stretch of time upon
my eye and I dream of
colors to shoot across
your clean white face.
My painting! My canvas!
My own heart chambers
so shy! You have sat there
for three months and haven’t
had a period since then.
Upon my easel you wait,
hmm, wondering if you want it.
I forgave the paint-brush penis,
who penetrated your hymen.
You bled for days and I was left
with the mess of a baby
who still cries for the breast!
So the milk shall flow across
the gutters of a dirty street
and your artistry will refine
the masses of this garbage-
filled world of empty heads.
:: 04-06-2015 ::
