Don't Look At Me I'm Weird

It's the fading hours of another week
The city drinks skeletons with orange rabbits
I prefer to inhale mine with some scorched necks
Lose ourselves in coded worlds on disk
A wild desert, a cold continent, a distant planet
Awkwardness subdued like my urge to procreate
Memories made from laughs, not blackened disease
The proles ingest then gush their release
About as much as I reuse poem titles

We'll Go To The Looney Bin Together. I Don't Give A Fuck!

Orphaned highway lead to yellow home

The ceremonial burning of 7 leaves

We declare virtual warfare on the proximity

But for pleasure, never for bloodshed

Pity those who move forward with haste

For pleasure is best induced through stasis

End Of Level Boss

Photographs of you ripping out your internal organs while I stare vacantly at nothing are etched in diamonds around my solitary lair because nothing says true love like self-mutilation.

A Warrior's Heaven

When she whispers I can hear shapes
They play symphonies that fall deaf on naked ears
Exploding like war-torn countries to a flawless crescendo
I see salvation in her voice, I hear Valhalla in her chest

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