You can have my cake, but no one should have to eat that.

Layers of whipped, light fluffy sugar puff
Glucose bliss like licking your fingers clean
Of crumbling crisp and flaky melancholy
Overshadowing the gooey unassuming center filling with a heat
That cools under the rolling slow curtains from your eyes
And a bluish tint coming up and rising into your cheeks;
First red with heat, then cool with indigo,
Strains of yellow and purple on the petals of your skin
(No, it's not a posy)
Armed with an ache is all your blushing gone bruising.
Soft and sweet isn't likely
When all that blood pools under your skin
Makes it as hard as your mouth is when it tries to choke down
The sick farse of a confection you call everyday.
Slowly grinding mandibles of monotony
Like a machine running on molasses
And clogging all the gears with gingersnaps.
All that over eating and all that clotted cream
Whipping you into a droning submission
That you need to burn to get out of
That nice wall for your face to collide with
Oh, a girl can dream
But oh, it can make a girl so tired
And the stinging your tongue makes running
Along the inside of your mouth
And the icing of hot blood garnishing your lip
Is a reminder that you can still feel,
But it's not good
And you are simply frosting on a fake world
And too much of anything will make you sick to your stomach.

Guilt.

I wish I had jumped into the ocean after you instead of turning for colder climes, I feel like I could have saved a small bit of something that I abandoned
And truth be told I wanted to see that swirling green pool above me and that small perspective and understand our insignificance.
By the ocean can only pour from the blue of me that nearly matches you.
Don't worry about the burning in your eyes, you need to get some salt in those wounded portals every once in a while, but I'll be there to lick to sea from your cracked lips and tangle my arms in the weeds around yours and pretend like it's not too late to keep you warm.

February 13, 2008, the last of the old poems.

Please don’t Purge.

My heart if full and ripe.
To be plucked and swallowed
whole like a Forbidden Fruit of Eden
That knows better and is begging you not to
While giving you the eyes of woebegone lust.

--------------


Prize.

Startled in the darkness, I caught site of a beauty
I never thought to see. I held it in my heart
like a private memory,
of a childhood promise I never had.

-------------


Her body was a nanny and her soul was a baby in need of shaking
Antyhing to make the screaming stop

You left a junkie on the floor a few nights ago
like old clothes, threaded with track marks
Sewn by needle for a fix.

Crumpled body like tissue in a waste basket.
Not with grace or rage;
complete apathy.

Lying catatonic, I think she prefers it that way.
----------
Feargasm

I like to be terrified, it's a passion of mine
It makes me feel so young
Struck still by utter fear
Desperately wanting something you to grab me in the night.

Brett's music makes me want to stitch words.

Burn with the melody and flicker
like the words on the tip of your tongue
crisp and sedating and thickening
with each falling nod of your head
Love like giving in
to a disentegrating disenchantment
of a curse to your nervous system
that feels more like a blessing.
Blisfful and still alight
with a multicolored flame of your psyche
and maybe someday you can sit back and be happy in some place other than dreams.

These are seperate, and I know too well the business of seperation.

The space between you and everything else is by far my most seductive feature;
the drink in my hand is undressing you with it's eyes
and the lips of the glass want to slide over yours
and pour
in some kind of temporary toxic love potion
to lube your emotional gears
and dig up all those woebegone bones you'd thought you'd buried
in soils of apathy.
Back with a broken half-assed vengence
and a rattling breath exhaling burning vodka vapors
and filling the sheets with a blustery booze filled anger
that never quite came to fruition.
In winning and losing I celebrate the same;
And giving up is the same pink hue
Of cranberry juice diluted with Fleischmann's finest.

----------------------------


I can't call you from beneath a silencing slipping wave of water.
Fills my mouth and the hollows of my scars that can be traced
like a maze of many different and deceptive outcomes
that are truly the same path seen in differing shades or bruising lights,
hot like summer, but really a cold winter night.
How does the view look to you?
Is the fog too thick to see my face or are you pretending to be blind?
I am your mirror masquerding as a flattering painting of our weaknesses;
turning excuses to reasons.
Let's make a blanket over us instead of inbetween.

January 21, 2008 - Monday

2:04 PM - A Faint Moment.

Break your back brain trying to sabotage the pattern recognition machine
running in your mind on a diet of paranoia and adrenaline.
Anxiety like a plastic shell coating your arms and extremities.
Eyes like clocks ticking from side to side
Above your Cheshire cat smile
False like the feeling in your spine
Converting your shocking steps into light buoyancy.
The light in the corner of your eye blinks
with mad pulsating intentions and calls your sanity into question.
Grip the table edge harder and realize swallowing
won't grind away the numbing of your throat.

January 7, 2008 - Monday

1:59 AM - I have no skeletons in my closet, just zombies.

I can feel so painfully out of touch when I am haunting my own house
And all these people may be dead to me
But I still see their corpses rotting on my bedroom floor
What scares me the most are the still twitching bodies in the armour
Comprised entirely of people I miss
Bulging against the wood grain and repeating my name
I have no skeletons in my closet, just zombies.
I save the bones for the dresser drawers I never open.

January 6, 2008 - Sunday

11:18 PM - When it hits you that you aren’t human.

The sharp rise in temperature causes me to shiver
And it's times like this I wonder if I'm the Devil
It takes two cracked steps to draw in just that one breath
And a shaky recourse for an exhale
Gritting your teeth won't mask the sound of your brain disintegrating
And you can try and peel off that layer of skin
If you can just get under your own alabaster shell
You're scared of the lack of color you may find
Pray your organs aren't as bloodless as your complexion
A funnel of nothing went in my throat
And filled me with a weight sound couldn't travel through
There goes the heartbeat and here comes the silence of my personality
My vocal chords knot like a noose around my neck
But I realize I had nothing to say anyway.

January 22, 2008 - Tuesday

1:14 AM - Winter Mournings.

We are painting pictures of the sun like we'll never see it again
And holding on to the hope in our chests like a light on guard from the cold.
Wind chapped hearts float papery words from parched lips
Like lovers in bed with Laryngitis having dry and unsatisfying sex
Apocalypse blinding grey cloudless nuclear holocaust sky

And this is my tail stuttering in fear.

I like to dream of you
Waking up sweating like I do,
Mouth dry and heart raw,
Pleading like a magnet for
All the iron in your blood,
Sliding like a tide,
Only few hundred miles
To make up for the lack of mine.
I'm anemic in my dreams,
And you are finally ready to rescue me.
Despite the blinding headlights and blinding fevers,
You can drive as fast as you want if all the roads lead here.

Have you ever felt it like a physical burning rollercoasting pain?

Sour and fucked, what is this granny smith in my chest?
And where did my blood pumping organ pumps itself off to?
It forgets it's kind of vital for when I want to function best.
It probably left and ran bouncing after you.
And now there's a mouth puckering sucker
in a cavity
meant for an alkaline entity
burning (is it heart burn?)
and reminding me how my heart will never learn.
It has to move on its own
and not suck my chest in like the tissues were soft like my cheeks.

Nothing really

Compacting and balling a body like a fist,
so tight and shocked and ready to shatter colorful
like nitrogen to explosive stained glass

Everyone as in You.

Everyone I know is dying
I'm afraid I'll be the only one left alive
What a burden, to be left behind
Everyone is consumed by one another
Each other
Eating over vats of chemical waste
While the mind expands
Chemically progressing
At very rapid speeds
Fatty tissues and fake smiles
Absorbing all that fills the air
Right this way,
I'll guide you to the lungs
And I'll train your eyes to avert others
And to let the capillaries expand
And the blood vessels to break
Into the same ones
That lie to your mother
About where you were last night