025. A Girl & An Animal Try
She screams through a hissing speaker
at a man who doesn't hear her.
Wrestling the reckoning,
inevitable isolation.
Take your turn in the cage and watch
a fragile man's rage.
Be alone in a crowd.
Rush through a day of nothing.
Complete a trial and
crank the dial.
Hopefully someone will be waiting and
you'll be vibrant, unaffected and not dying.
024. Youth
How young is too young
to wander?
To feel?
To think for yourself?
To pay for your parents' dinner?
Why do we claim to
look after the young
and then stand on their backs or
shoulders, expecting praise?
Anything can be just
or gravely wrong,
especially if you scold them
when they're young.
023. Silence
Rolling your eyes at bumper stickers.
Plugging your ears from the inside.
Trying not to cough from his smoke.
Going to the doctor's office for
something embarrassing.
Knowing a compliment is nothing,
nothing but patronage-
pity.
It all makes sense in the evening,
while you lay on your back and
look at the ceiling.
But your your dreams are different.
And when you wake up
it's all forgotten.
022. Abstract
Name one thing that isn't real.
That isn't a part of you.
That you have no feelings toward.
That thing may just adore you.
It may be spending its life
trying to please you.
Find that thing.
021. on the end
It's safe to say that
death is part of life.
It brings many things out
of everyone.
Or simply,
it brings everyone.
People you haven't seen in ages.
Those who smile and shake your hand.
Those who say,
"We should keep in touch,"
but never call.
Not until another dies.
Death brings words.
Words people don't mean,
angry or not.
Words people have been
holding in for ages.
Words about you or him or
the one in the ground.
Death brings love.
Love that breaks through
everything.
Love that forms circles
of everyone sharing memories.
Love that forges relationships,
that mends them.
Death brings life,
depending on what you believe.
020. Everything
I cannot;
I will not
separate myself from
anyone,
anything.
Not this pen,
not this screen,
not my fingers,
not my tongue,
not my skull.
There is no line between these words.
They are me.
They are one.
019. unresolved
When the sun shifts
behind a cloud,
I hear your voices.
How everything you ever said was
a feeble façade.
And I believed it.
I've discovered
so painfully
what it's like
to spend time with you
while you're somewhere else,
Laughing.
018. Broken
You weren't thinking.
It only took a moment.
Instant flow.
Gratification.
Now as the winters pass,
as things have grown and festered,
you haven't forgotten.
Forgotten the ripples.
How easy it was then
and how hard it is now.
017. Escape
Like a thousand needles
on a curtain
I'm constricted
by invisible hands.
Don't listen
to them,
only animals.
Those who can't see you.
Take loneliness,
stuff it away.
Surround yourself with something.
Something useful.
016. Offshoots
Sprouting,
curling,
blooming.
I feel it grow
like crawling crystals
deep inside.
Consider again
how it feels to be alive.
015. A Picture of chaos
When the rain comes back, fierce,
I wait for thunder
or a flash of light.
Something that tells me
the sky is thinking,
that something will come
after the rain.
Why do we sleep well during chaos?
Why does it relax us?
I want to know about this chaos,
see what it's like to be inside.
Look at a utopia from a hell-scape.
Understand what it means to look out
at those who ignore,
those who sleep
during chaos.
014. virgin night
When the sun sets in hell,
not a soul wavers.
Only scattered light pierces,
illuminates the obscuring,
black fog.
It settles upon a new evening,
one fresh from an 0range bath,
ready to look to the land.
Scour.
Feed.
Feed on anything that's left.
013. Untouched
A blemish on the canvas
seen by none,
known only by one.
How can we know what happened before?
Before us?
Who made the cuts?
Someone was trampled,
wrung out by stampede.
And now we won't impede.
You can't listen to voices already silenced,
not without the page,
giving time the stage.
Go home to where you know:
beyond the sun.
Find it how you left it:
brightly lit.
Untouched.
012. Skulls
Desire.
Give.
Take it
home.
Do I speak to the clouds?
Or the dirt?
Where do my thoughts go?
Things are thoughts.
Everyone's outcry,
plea for recognition,
a puzzle to solve,
a labyrinth to navigate,
an end to find.
011. Things to forget
Dimensions of fate
rely on you, now.
Control the inevitable.
Make it yours,
something to be modest about.
Feign gratefulness.
Feign talent.
Feign answers.
Remember your core
at the end of the day.
Where you began,
who brought you here.
Then tomorrow you can pretend
it was someone else.
Someone other than you.
010. The cycle
I see the sheet of light
drape over everything
and the rainstorm that cries,
masking a sun that shines.
How is being still, unaware
better than being awake?
Like a melody turned sour,
a winter that killed the flower,
I remember what it was like
to see in color.
But when I open my eyes
everything dies.
The people on the bus,
the ones who talk on the radio,
two separate realities.
One ignores causality.
Continue to breathe,
keep your eyes open,
someone will listen.
009. PIT
The icy hooves thunder.
Conceal amethyst veins.
Watch the dew glisten.
The sun spear.
Correct the dark.
Fall into the code.
Cave walls drip like
ancient rain that leaves
misty vapors.
Traces.
Morbid
shock.
Scramble.
Cut off the ties,
all the channels
converging at one
center.
A glowing pit
that inhumes
existence.
008. NURSING
Locked wisdom.
A wall instead of a gate.
Howling coughs.
Wretched yellow light.
Time thins into
inevitability.
Snapping Focus.
Reintroductions.
Proverbs go to die.
Wisp away into that vault.
Never see fingers.
Only ash.
Only ash and steel.
Cold.
Thinning.
No contribution.
Words go unlisted
forever.
007. For leaves
Oblivion in my system,
screeching.
Listen for other threads.
Watch for certain threats.
Constant teeming.
Sooner dying.
Screeching.
Ways to remedy whisper to
the leaves that cling to brittle branches,
arriving through idle gazes,
smeared windows,
invisible hands.
Screech.
Screech
now.
006. Gleams
Cut the cast.
Listen to my unenthused past
as I ramble on about things that didn't last.
Not in my house or theirs,
only in my skull as it dares,
leaving open-ended questionnaires
about all the things unseen.
How things should've been wiped clean
with a rag soaked in blood that gleams.
005. Absence
Daggers rise from the ground with steam.
Fangs orange with rage,
spawned by the absence of a dream.
A despair unseen on the page.
A hatred caused by sadness.
A feeling whose thorns strangle,
forcing an animal into abyss,
bending memories into a tangle.
No.
I cannot go back
to a realm of stark absence.
004. The hum
Standing in serenity,
surrounded by chaos,
I feel like I'm in a city
pondering a distant man's loss.
The crowds pass,
The rain plummets.
I'm in a lower class
looking in disdain at the puppets.
My hands,
what color are they?
Are they filled with grey sand,
or already where the dead lay?
Sounds make up silence,
silence spawns thought,
thought makes something crude.
A new future
of morbid altitude.
003. With You
Swirl, blossom, and buzz.
I remember just how pure it was.
But my claws are raw.
Now, I'm only everything I ever saw
with you.
Not because of,
never in spite of,
but my side was always filled
with you.
Listen to me.
I've ascended,
reached the cusp of rich fruition
and now I have to reach a decision.
You say all you do is everything,
but my boots are soaked
and your legs are pristine.
Work is conscious when you're conscious.
Never sleep.
Never sleep
with you.
002. Everything Contrived
Spill.
Feed.
Revel.
Recede.
When the lights come on.
When dusk turns to dawn.
Morose are the shadows
but in them are swirling billows.
It goes from black to orange,
from calmness to the fringe.
Remember.
Come collect the stained timber.
Narrow on what you can control.
Listen to those who cry from the death toll.
Omnificence goes to futility.
Autumn turns to visibility.
Spill.
Feed.
Revel.
Recede.
001. The Black Road
The ice splits and the glass shatters.
Desperate are the wheels atop the fragments.
They screech and leave nothing but black smoke,
an echo that will carry through the homes.
Black is the smoke as is the stain.
Ears will forget but never will the road.
As desperation echoes through more than air,
it leaves its mark everywhere.