Cling

I owe you everything including the world
My muse, reason, goddess. My skin and scar
Show the view behind goggles, infatuation tint
Everything is pink through your eyes
To me, they're all gray with no feature
Distortion without interruption or force
Television snow flickering on a bad porno
Static moans with no climax in sight
This is worthless and nihilistic
Like a guardian angel in peaceful moments
My phone replaced with your poem
Badly worded, littered with false emotion
The moon gets ugly when it's all we see
The sun gets cold when it's all we feel
I'm so sick of seeing your face when I dream
Stuck to me, my magnet of feces and shrills
The reason it's better to just be alone sometimes

A Bit Closer To Heaven

I remember the snowflake dancing on my neck
Like a figure skater carving death threats in ice
The cold wouldn't faze me, not what I am now
Happiness died on the floor of my home years ago
Crimson jewelry decorated my love, a junkie's catharsis
My child now dreaming green in a tipped-over crib
The world has become as New York City
Frozen in it's own animosity, tainted with noir
Screams of my family pushing toward the final word
A bullet screaming in it's trail to the witch responsible
Maybe I would find solace in the Valhalla of revenge
Maybe I would finally wake up from the American Dream

Heroin Queen

When I walked into the apartment, a tourniquet was already wrapped around her arm as she was injecting the brown sugar within. A body thin as icicles in spring sat in a throne room adorned with pizza boxes, empty beer cans, and paraphernalia. I gazed into her eyes and saw an innocent child smothered in nations of sepia smoke, yearning for a hand. The Heroin Queen flashed me her smile, teeth yellow like sunflowers. A garden I've frolicked in several times before. She asked me if I wanted a shot.

“I'll pass, thank you. How long do you plan on living like this?”

“I'm not alive. I've been dead for years. The gak just keeps my heart beating,” she replied

“You know, it doesn't have to be this way. You can always quit,” I told her

“To cease the drug is to cease breathing.”

That's when she nodded off. I walked over to her and gently caressed her hair. It was black confetti falling off into my hands. Leaving the apartment, my thoughts turned to life in general. How promising existences can turn into septic ponds in a split second. Back in the day we dated, it was a beautiful thing. The two of us reciting poetry to each other while the stars smiled. She said: “My love caresses you like a storm around the earth, rain dampening the depression inside. Let me hold your body as we melt into heaven like angels on fire.”

And then there was my line: “I want your essence in my blood, the unrestrained rivers flow. Let the dams burst with the intensity of our love and watch the world drown.”

Now she was loveless in her own gulag, the only feeling being craving. I wanted to tell her my heart beat only for the black-haired beauty. Nothing could express the regret to make her understand. The needle was an abusive lover, severing all ties she had. That night it killed her.

At the funeral there were only five people. No tears were shed since everyone saw it coming. The Heroin Queen looked at peace in ther coffin, free from the bounds of perpetual abuse. The pastor said some words about Heaven but I wasn't paying attention (anything would be bliss for her now, even if it was an eternity in fire.) My only thoughts where the “what ifs.” What if I saved her that night? Perhaps the two of us would be on a mountaintop right now instead, forging a reality that would put any romance novel to shame.

After they buried her I stayed at the grave, gazing at the horizon. The sun was hiding from this fretful day behind a white veil. My Heroin Queen is the sun, and I the veil. Together at last and forever, only in the skies. Only in dreams.

I'm Not Bitter

Joined the parade early in life
Psychiatrists and therapists
Marching to the tune of textbooks
They gave my sorrow a name
And I melded to the diagnosis
Bipolar breath reeking of failure
Sliding across the asphalt of anxiety
Too long knocking at depression's door
Knuckles bruised from fighting with myself
Looks, actions, inabilities, and mistakes
Reasons I'm constantly fighting this war
All battles taking place in the mirror or head
Wishing to fight you/them instead
Too terrified to fire at those potentially innocent
This alien boy just wants compassion
Where friendship and love lay dying in a ditch
For men steal, women lie, humanity shrugs
The misanthrope is just a romantic who sees clearly
And God knows he loves you all

Euthanize!

Exhausted all resources
Now a wasteland of flesh
The mind is a chronic illness
Vomit stains on self-image
A cancer growth on sanity
And me, the walking infection
Trying cures of razors and pills
Daily therapy with a noose
Like trying to kill God
Suicide is not a physical thing
It always happens within
Long before the deed takes place
I've been dead for a decade now

Summer Fling

There was a time when you and I
Blind to the tight hand of life
Would sit in an inclined field
Under an audience of stars
Discussing the worthlessness of life
You would smoke a cigarette or two
And I tried to warn away the cancer
That smile could burn it away
A giggle and a puff, then exhalation
You claimed to be a rebel
It was nailed down at the time
No interest in school or authority
Then there was me, angelic by comparison
Ready to obey anyone intimidating enough
You knew that and took it with stride
My tattered goddess from across the tracks
All chains rust and break away
I won't bother with the mundane details
Five years ago it was a personal apocalypse
But the world still breathes softly
Sometimes when I smoke a thought is born
That beautiful face in teenage mold
“What if?” tattooed on the forehead
It's brushed to the side, forgotten
No use to dwell on ghosts
You could be swimming in the sewers
Frolicking in heaven with the perfect man
It all means absolutely nothing to me

Faust

Demons dressed to arouse and charm
Showing skin for the witting worshiper
Hands clasped in prayer, tangled with webs
The pact signed in your own bile
For this courtship, you exchange:

• Your money
• Your freedom
• Your friends
• Your identity
• Your existence

Happiness is yours. Celebrate!
Throw a funeral for the one in love
Buried in a suit and recycled vows
The bones have superior lives now
Standing out more than my friend, the shell
Stuck in a perpetual suburban nightmare
Your apathy for life hovering over like memories
The ring on your finger is just a fancy prison

Like Lemmings

In blue fog she puffs on a cigarette

Peeling another man's skin from her teeth

Tossed to the wind, fading as dried leaves

I wish every night to be the next victim

The orgasm of falling apart in her gnawing frenzy

We're already mush before she bites down

Eyes like hammers to tenderize diamond boys

“Make me a statistic, left crippled in the ocean”

I'll die honored at the feet of statuesque glamour

God Is A Carrot?

We're free from the shackles of monarchy

But still bowing to the royalty on the street

White trash princesses, high class whores

Tonight we pray to the glittering slut

They bottled up the sun and bathed her

No identity, promiscuity the only trait

Laying to the top of this world

Face splattered on every page read

Now she's all we can think about

Our God is sinful and sacrilegious

The church's hymns replaced with pornography

Hell is a place of mass media rejection

Invisible to her manufactured love

Accept the orange queen or rot in solitude

Beauty is dead and lying is sexy

Death Is A Teenager

The nameless boy stands facing the entrance

A house of knowledge with laughing walls

The rain pours like homicide from his psyche

Wind blowing his tangled blond hair

Thin as a paper cut but housing a world of grief

The circus came and went in his head

All left is garbage piled to crimson-tinted eyes

Every word will be avenged, every taunt retorted

He opens the door and brings the gallows with him

Two .45s drawn before the young ones could repent

They were all guilty of being normal, sentenced to be statistics

Fireworks erupting in an ocean of oil and gasoline

Screams flying in the air mixing with blood

The schoolhouse was renovated to Potter's Field

Survivors clinging to their vital signs

Wondering what all the "harmless" teasing made

But the nameless boy will have the last laugh

Flashing a rare smile before turning the anguish on himself

Now the walls will weep until this generation passes

Mourning the loss of so many potential futures

Ended in an orgy of misanthropy,frustration, loneliness

Somewhere down the line all of this will be forgotten

And the nameless boy will return to another town

Shooting up his peers for another string of worthless insults