that one kid over there

the scars on forearms

shimmering under the fluorescent lights

shining bright scarlet

illuminating white

with each gasp for air

eyes rolled back

tormented ecstasy

insanity is the only safe place

for tongues twisted and forked

lies on lies on lies on lies on lies

legos and lincoln logs

playing jenga through the window

the aftermath of the afternoon

when the monsters come out to dance

to the wailing and screaming

your voice is their heartbeat

whispers to gods

foreign and unknown

they don’t dwell with you

in the hovel of inhumanity

hold the gospels in your thoughts

pray for a salvation

the cynical ghosts your only tie to laughter

where you are, dear child, is nowhere

in the quiet the demons cackle

in the tranquil the liars prowl

in the zen reliving rape and pillage

in the calm the evil crawls

sweet dreams

sleep tight

hope to never see daylight


daddy’s eyes

it’s shocking

the places i find you

a wraith

in the windows to the soul

in reflections

in photographs

in the hallways of memories

times and places you never existed in

but you’re there




in the dead quiet of night

in the whispering yawns of dawn

an apparition

smelling of cheap cigerettes and old spice

a haunting

in the crisp appalachian air

in the deep forest of new england

the echo of your voice

knocks hard

like the atlantic tides against a beach of stones

i am blind to what you saw

when you looked at me

with the eyes identical to those set in my face

blue tinted muscles

pulsing against the black and white

it would be a luxury

to understand

fully, completely, without hesitation

what it means to

have your daddy’s eyes

taking turns

twist and sparkle on the ground

sweet dancing in the rain

when the softness can be found

in the patience and the pain

forgotten witnesses are learned

and they saw it once again

in the fire long was burned

treaties forged in blood for gain

shadows of humanity are bound

where the innocence of cain

the sins of abel swims around

sweet dancing in the rain

crash boom bam pizzazz and party favors

these bombs

shake the pictures off the walls

leaving windowpanes vibrating like a beehive

these bombs

ripping apart the sides of mountains

where dinosaurs used to roam

these bombs

fired by 18 year old kids

with questionable criminal histories

with questionable mental stability

these bombs

just practice for the real deal

prototypes for the ones to be sent over there

these bombs

don’t send us running for cover

aren’t aimed at our homes

these bombs

a constant reminder we will force

any peoples to do what we want

these bombs

are meant to spread democracy

into lands where democracy was stripped away

by the bombs sent before them

these bombs

these bombs

these bombs

send tears down my cheeks

these bombs

will take a child away

these bombs

will break through the bricks of hospitals

these bombs

will settle on school desks

these bombs

leave humanity vibrating with the magnitude of loss


when fire loses oxygen

here i am

here i am not me

my mind as neutral as motel wall art

my thoughts are soft like cat fur

my emotions pliable and bland

where the fuck is

my normal

my comfortable

my natural

irrational, gritty, fired up and fucked over

lost in the maze of neurons and menges

i can feel it like a ghost on the bed

but i can’t grab ahold of it

it’s not accessible

there are dust-devils of actions, reaction, inactions

whirling around

whipping through my consciousness

long enough

hard enough

fast enough

to remind me they are still there

mocking me that i can’t catch them

this isn’t the first time

this won’t be the last

the cycle me gets lost more easily these days

“idiopathic loss of cognition”

i need to live life by the teeth

i need to see the heavenly and evil in everything

i need to scream

i need to stomp

i need to be alive

i need to think

i need to feel

i fucking hate beige

ferris wheel & pink cotton candy

it’s a tumultuous feeling


it seems like a lie

a temptation for tornadoes

to rip everything apart

leaving the soul barefoot

to navigate across shattered glass


a perfect indicator of emotional doom

the sniper in place

waiting for the order to fire

the ravens gather for the onslaught


leaving time for promises to die

giving way to mental destruction

defenseless, naked, unmasked, unaware

blind in a boxing match


time to prepare myself

for the barbed wire dress

for the parade of the despised


pacts and trusts in boxes

that i am unable to open

i don’t have the fucking key

i don’t have the fucking tools


what a bullshit mirage

put in place to make the thinking

go to doctors and hospitals

thorazine and depakote

frontal lobotomy life therapy

there is no comfort in joy

there is no contentment in tranquility

happiness is rotting flesh disguised with aromatherapy