Lost Touch

I cannot relate to my fellow man anymore
The soil they walk on has more in common with me
(Stagnancy molded by foot prints and afterthoughts)
They're too busy worshiping invisible sociopaths
Too caught up in the heroism of poverty genocide
I prefer the poetry of a crimson-stained wrist
Over the delicacy of a three course meal of pills
It will put this garbage heap deep into the ground
To actually be stepped on instead of just feeling that way

Picking Up Chicks At The Local Asylum

Always a sucker for Zoloft eyes

Tossing rose petals into therapy circles

Give me schizophrenia by the syringe

Align your bipolar with mine

The ink blots look beautiful from here

With romance written in our charts

They'll never know the beauty of a sick libido

We down mood stabilizers with wine

Dancing forever on the Klonopin moon

Pac Man's Many Mood Disorders

Years of trepidation reduced to a couple files

Swallow pills to subdue starving poltergeists

So futile to devour what will only return

But it's better than gnawing into myself

Happy Time Harry

This is beautiful, no question. A dust garden in full bloom under a wooden sky. Dance with me where wingless butterflies flutter on linoleum beaches. They're claustrophobic and the walls are embracing like lovers. The sun is always shining here. It's placed in a glass pane above the cotton gurney. Want to watch it set with me? It'll only take a second. The patient needs a hand to heal. Infections spread fast when they start beneath the skull. You should see the pills they gave me. They're the color of a girl's eyes I used to court. Disjointed little things manufactured in some blackened dream with a taste of forbidden fruit. I swallow them with a bottle of arsenic and pray for life.

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