Not About Me

I need you to sleep, my abdomen hurts.

I need this to seep in minikin-spurts.

No person should breathe bacterial blurts.

A person should leave when pressure exerts.

There's pee on the hair that covers my thigh.

A failure to dab an opening dry

Could cause a mere brush of leg to apply

A mystery drip on skin as you lie.

The nightmare that comes, brain cannot evade.

Reversal of thought, I cannot persuade

To push through a dream then come to my aid.

So, when I awake, it's good that you stayed.

What Dreams Dream

Ruined remnants left in me, bereft of glee, I heft a plea.
Battered, tattered pieces weep beneath the grief I keep to be.

Once you held me, wants compelled a melding with the skin I felt.
Pores that poured your love dispelled the force that fell what fortune dealt.

Vision risen, riven shame, existed on a common plane.
Scission given, sight was blade for splitting schism--grave for pain.

I was fed by crest of breath, an arc aloft on hopeful bend.
Camber soft, my path would wend on sureness curved to joyful end.

Vital air removed by you, despair prepared to be my food.
Spiteful glare could barely do enough to mask what rues exude.

Heart entwined with pulse of mind, respiring thoughts kept me alive.
Once your wave resigned, I tried contriving how I might survive.

Sadness soon will fade to past, I pray it stays till I extract
Token from the time we had--a focus holding life intact.

That Was Beautiful

Your thighs bless the water in porcelain tub,
A vision sufficient to forcefully drub
The limiting image of villainy done
By wicked, iniquitous, indigent one.

The diligent deference you dealt in a boon:
Intelligent reference to relevant swoon.
The slumber of umbrage was telling of new
Constructive conjunction compelling my view.

I hated myself and I hated the world.
My brain did lambaste with affliction unfurled.
But scrutiny floundered when feeling your word,
You said that I'm better, then curing occurred.

The light you reflect is deflecting my doubt.
Despite fear's objection, connecting the route
From now to forever with you will be how
Contrition and I solve our infinite row.

The sight of you shines with a compliment claimed.
The past is an aspect your nature has maimed.
All previous people we were face a braid
Of cable and razor--no shame can abrade.

Yeah, It Is

I want to recite what you do.
You strike all the spite from my eyes, wiping clean what I've seen
Till no grudges can smudge what is true.
Then, I improve.

I want to be minus ado.
To smite the whole strife from my life, have routine so pristine
That my judgment will hug world anew.
This I approve.

The need for your love is absurd.
My skin is addicted to you, friction painting a faint
Revelation of haven, its surd
Mirth can assure.

Your name is a miracle heard.
The din of affliction is nil, flitting vainly to taint
Veneration contained in one word.
Pain has a cure.

Circular

I may not explain this, have no way to say this,

Lack vision of Janus, my grace chained in stasis.

Frayed mental arrangement delays application

Of salient statement or able oration.

Enabling your patience till failure is sated

Will take concentration that makes brain ablated.

My ailing is daily, I'm anxiously feigning

A prayer to shape purpose, have hatred be training.

I never adapted to chatting nor acted

Like patterned politeness had value attracted.

Thus, practicing having a pal for some banter--

A gal for some candor--had no chance to matter.

The malady fashioned from fantasy: rabble

Attack me with ample amounts of their babble.

My aptitude, sadly, has natural slanting

Toward smashing the affable plan--sans recanting.

This brutal accrual of truth spawned renewal

To ruinous rue much too huge, its removal

From fool so imbued with a hubris so looming

Is due to be doomed by a slew of assuming.

The rule in my heart is a looping exclusion,

Delusional deluge diluting effusion

From muses who move me to human communion.

My view keeps eschewing the use of all union.

Invalid

Easily earned and so willingly spurned and too willing to spurn
A mind set-up like mine,
You should have learned that which has been occurring incurs none to yearn
For a time you design.

Shape of ipseity--fake spontaneity--guided by line
Of the libertine sneer.
Things you decide are aligned with outside ministration, resign
To a stifling veneer.

Body and thoughts are controlled by the horde who will whore you, adore
That you feel so mature,
Choke all the beauty inside your ethereal guts till the core
Of them turns to impure.

Everything touches you, scraping the sacredness right off the skin
That I wanted to kiss.
Memory plaguing my aging perception of you, I'll begin
To erase what I miss.

Grateful

A dastardly cad whose rapport with poor woman so bade
From a sad and deplorable origin made
Hope float up to the level of heavenly chorus
But effort went hardcore to porous.

He wanted the trunk of a person to squeeze.
He wanted the plank in a sternum to creak.
He wanted the ender for typical pleas.
He vaunted the lender of skin to his cheek.

Intoning his voice with an innocent wrap, he would speak
In a way that would always enrapture her, pique
Once per day the predictably quickening capture
And killing of doubt of great stature.

"You never were given a chance to have much.
Apparently, parents could budget enough
Disparaging blaring for leaving you such
A specimen lessened by essence of tough."

The message was edible, edified pride while it fed
With a nourishing courage that ended her dread--
He was right--if two parents had been a bit better
Then nothing could ever upset her.

Permission was granted for feeling relief.
Her mission: to live by specific decree.
"Attrition of joy, the addition of grief
Were issued from others--I fault them, not me."

Rewarding the guy who had justified every mistake
Was a goal, and some holes were the way that could make
Him a gracious repayment.  The contact
Then hacked-up emotional compact.

An impetus drove him to orifice filled.
Impetuous lechery leveraged his will.
He severed all manners when whim got fulfilled
Then quickly had quitting her quim as a thrill.

"I lied when you cried, for inside me was hiding a scheme
To advance on the damage-prone damsel, to seem
Sympathetic when hearing pathetic narration
About how you choose devastation.

A human like you is responsible for
Deciding to decimate life, your accord.
Once penis from me is a type you ignore,
Then maybe your fate can amass fortune stored."

Excellent

This feeling can't stay caged in here,
But, if escaped, may fast appear
To shear the sphere of non-austere
With bladed bridge atop a sneer.

My flying ire is iron-faced,
A giant tyrant long disgraced.
In home of bone it rams to paste
A place it named a shameful waste.

The metal malice craves to cave
All glamor--hammer brows engrave
Destruction on the feeble knave
Who let an excess mind-enslave.

Not I

Spectacle wrecking the speck of respectable,
Estival festival testing receptacle.
Vessel of mettle for time unacceptable
Flexing with pressure exempt from what's tenable.

Lessening presence by which I could contemplate
Ever relating to human so reprobate
Soon will be faded, contrivance will concentrate
Onto my pity till head-bones disintegrate.

Carrion cadre corroding the dignity
Carried by people before an affinity
Started for deeming attention divinity--
Everyone seeming a part of duplicity.

Graphics on clothing are tragic as visual.
Vintage apparel is verily usual.
Hair making statement should gain individual
Wearing it cane to the face--pain perpetual.

Bell Sink

Richard, really, blink, please give your eyes a goddamn drink.
Livers need a break, despite the the lies your mind may think.

"Livers need to break," you say, while staring through the day.
Brows are high, imbibing puts them up, then up they stay.

Music puking way too loudly, blues abuse my ear.
Sound protruding, huge contusions move through what I hear.

Driveway rumbling, Dick arrival, headlights killing fun.
Engine idle means that calm survival must be done.

Richard's home!  Inspection will commence--were rules obeyed?
Tallest forehead ever can detect how children played.

Russet Burbanks peeled, the glow of gut has been revealed!
Flannel shirt unbuttoned, doming whiteness cannot yield.

Broken toys, the noise of plastic cracking taunts me most.
Nipple hair absurdly curling...bolster to the boast.

Hitting Symbols with My Cock

I'm not the one you should worry about,
That concern for me urges my malice
To fuck-up the world in a terminal bout,
To evince vindication then exercise clout
By exerting invincible phallus.

Ball-peening penis or malleting glans
Are two weapons I've come to envision;
Venereal visage will ram through the plans
Of the arrogant people till multiple scans
Show their heartbeat has gone in remission.

Pity should be for whom cannot produce
But a modicum of true affection.
The maudlin or stolid are wont to induce
An embossing by bludgeon--your skin will traduce
What can fit on your face for protection.

I've been okay, and to prove I am strong
Way beyond the tame stringing of sinew
I'll cancel the anthem of banshee with song,
Hum a subtle rebuttal, make slumber belong
To emotional issue within you.

Dissonant yell from inside you compels:
"Please adhere to appeal from devotion.
That guy is no fool, intonation foretells
Sleep befalling our folly could be what repels
A huge mauling by pubic-sent notion."

Guide Lines

Can cracks in a past bleed a blemish on present?
Can fissure in history blister the pleasant?
Will seeping of acid from bygone investment
Be steeping the placid till grave has a tenant?

Attempting attachment, perempting temptation,
Exempting the empty from all dedication
Exemplifies everything mass alteration
Necessitates roundly for new fate gestation.

Fulfillment is killed when a willful exhibit
Of rigidness hinders the purview of pivot.
The panoptic option has wisdom within it
For myopic hope can wound effort by limit.

I'm positive pause in my hostile accounting--
That awful accosting--will cause my surrounding
Environment plentiful space for abounding
A love--not a threat of vociferous trouncing.

Are We Touching Butts?

A heat rock but soft.  A thing that will oft
Raise chamber like saber toward heaven aloft.

A comforting curve, a dumbfounding urge
Connected when tension with joy comes to merge.

Surprising behind my back was a kind
Of feeling I could not recall in my mind.

Embodiment of profundity lent
From oddly an awesomely smallish event

Provided by you.  A provender-soul
You've proven to dole-out through infinite roll.

A laugh can ensure the purely inane
Can be an occurrence I'll never constrain.

Figure

I.

The corners of my frown will now push
Both of your shoulders down.
No shrugging is allowed, committal
Spittle can aptly drown
Appeal I'd feel from pealing sound from
Beating your peeling crown.

Your apathy enraptures me to
Smash-up your bony cap,
Enhance my satisfaction with a
Fracturing--hands affrap.
Intractably I'll batter, bash the
Matter till conscience-quap.

II.

Assailing what I hate could greaten
Fate of a fading zeal;
So, really, all this talk of breaking
Something might help reveal
How loathing you is truly how I
Manage a way to feel.

Unpaid

My heart has been despondent as depression-flavored fondant
That is utterly responsive to the mauling heaped upon it.
And keeping up an audit on what blurred my harm-deterrent
Is alarmingly allotted all this drive--but never spawns it.

Dishonor was a topic I would dodge beyond what's proper,
Loss of ardor will not pardon me from feeling cowered posture.
Before, I was empowered, then a coward-cutting lopper
Took the top from off the towering design of pride-impostor.

The time we had together then--my proudness--built me nothing
For that negative and regnative beheading was a crushing
Adjustment to my custom of discussion linked with touching--
Your surprisingly divisive like of silence weaponed hushing.

Introducing V

Rhyann has such a tiny pair of dry and pallid hands,
So, if you care, please try to plan
Her life a span from arid lands.

A lack of moisture foiling choice is minor when compared
With plane of gain, pervasive bane
To pain endangered, hiding scared.

That smiling filing badness down, my vice and guile are dust,
Cachet replaced, no joy defaced,
My hope encased by able trust.

A mythic love, Medusa-haired, now stunning via stone,
Then smashing statue--former doubt--
To sand about new pedal throne.

No phantom fingers pulling thought, their lulling now repealed,
Rhyann-embrace is armor to
A mind in lieu of plate or shield.

My steps command the path ahead, no harm can harry sole,
I'll stomp the hand of backward track,
Let heel attack disband its role.

My breathing brings a vital time I'll share with someone true,
So, if you care, please act to save
Rhyann in favor's forward view.

Re-Can't

Sorry can't describe the shame
That's made when I imbibe and then decide
I will ascribe atop your name
Things that deride.

Soberly I might mistake
My weakness for a bleakness in the time
We have together--peace will break
Like shell of rime.

Nothing can abate the spate
Of maelstrom and a spiral reign, the way
Too pained, invading pull of hate
Brings brain delay.

Trying to rely on you
I'm really not accustomed to because
A glut of cut-up trust may skew
What judgment does.

Introducing IV

"Endellion ended the pending rebellion,
Felling the dissident engine with pendant.
A literal engine, mechanical skeleton,
Concept of clockwork on hope too dependent..."

Endellion fought for the orderly habitude
Gritting her attitude always to hinder
The errant adherence to mutinous aptitude--
Crimson anemic was treachery ender.

That hair was like blood from the ruby leviathan,
Liquid so vividly able to dictate
The movement of heart from one small to gargantuan.
Flowing of follicle stunned whom would spectate.

But beauty was tiny compared to tenacity
Stringing her sinew, imbuing with vigor.
No matter the size of idea or entity
Her grip on canon would force it to rigor.

"...the necklace spread light in a mystic geometry
Scoring the air with a photo-form monster.
The multi-prong mass made of maces and elegy
Sundered machine in a fall law would sponsor."


(Credit to Lindsay for the name "Endellion.")

This Is Really About Me

I live in each moment.
The past?  My opponent.
The future?  My rival who's yet to arrive.

My matter is here now.
To me, it is clear how
Denying remembrance keeps brio alive.

Aloofness destroying
That which is annoying
Or tragic to manage the truth in my mind.

I'm sorry for any
Whose problems are many
And held to be felt in a memory bind.

Bloom

While scouring the ways of empowering praise

To pay you for what my life owes,

A limit of talent and money had says

About what could be done, so I wrote you a rose.
Reflection designed?  I wrote, you arose.

Above all the stuff that can hamper a course,
We'll trample the tampering horde.
Dismantle the amplitude granting the force
That kills every good thing that my luck can afford.
I'm hoping our bond is kismet accord.

Perhaps I should warn you of something I do,
A shitty proclivity will
Inhibit the finish of anything new
Which means everything tried I'll not ever instill
With duty or pride, despite my goodwill.

But, really, a trend of not getting the end
Might lend much advantage to me.
Concluding my time with you truly would bend
A cruel, hateable hook in my normal ennui.
A definite span no man will foresee.

Seriously

This hyper pretension could give hypertension to everyone ever, including Eirene.
I really should mention that all of you merit condition that switches a bomb with your spleen.
Deleting elitism, breaking its vertebrae, hitting your back-space to gather back space
That rightfully should have remained with the humble is something I hope can be scheduled by grace.
Alignment of spine in a functional line should be always denied to whom idolize pride.
Symbolic affliction of skeletal posture means crushing the culture so liked by the snide.
The masses can massively, crassly and acidly, fabricate manifold title of art,
Corroding abode where the specially known are exalted alone to have people sound smart.
"You truly don't know what I'm talking about?  Now unduly I deem you a stupefied lout
Deserving the curving of mythical blade in a surgical purging--a vascular drought."

Introducing III

Raydia's blade cut a radius, made

A true radiant statement--her edict obeyed.

Keeping away all the people who preyed

On the feeble was purpose, a service unpaid.

Tunic arranged in a way not to raise
The predictable trace of her shape by a gaze.
Blonde hair was shining with effluent rays
That reminded of nimbus with beatific haze.

Spirit effulgence would radiate grace
But could scorn a whore's cornea--vision erase.
Photon grenade was applied to replace
All an enemy's mass with a vacated space.

Lightness and rightness were twined like a braid
With a morningstar end to flay shadow to shade.
Duty was beautiful, ever displayed
With the usual luminous dead pan arrayed.

Made Up

This particular parcel of particles has me imparting a pardon that's hardly impartial.
An attraction attacking my factoring acumen, pittance of wisdom is what I can marshal.

I was formerly ordered by personal ordinance, "End all the onerous via speech ordnance."
The coordinates?  Of no importance, collateral blasting is natural, stores no abbhorence.

Semiotic, semantic, my tactical path seemed chaotic or frantic, which was symptomatic
Of dynamic deception.  Disheveled perception met leveling weapon, a trick systematic.

Condescension you send to offend by upending the splendor of friendliness tends to portending
A quick mention of stomach distention, or flummoxing tension that stretches your mind--thoughts are rending.

But no details develop for oral deployment, new version of me will refuse the enjoyment
That can happen with proving perpetual arrogance does not have comeback for light flite employment.

You are lucky that I am conducting myself with compunction, reduction of fucked-up expression
Is a benefit--I have not been a fit ever to people, the old me would have this confession:

"Insecurity hurts you internally, all the rehearsing you've done will not spurn the existence
Of my universe hurling its burliest burden to sow pain within you to fuel my subsistence."

Miss

Songs are still about you,

You're the basis of their meaning.

Songs were still about you,
Facing stasis at your being.

Artsy magnum opus
Could not share time with your presence,

Temple car--my focus--
Treated art like Puri peasants.

Crooked teeth were fine, there
Was no structure metal straightened

That could best your smile (where
Every day the charm got greatened).

Offset tiles were planted
By the slanted hand of healing,

Health and joy both granted
By your gentle dental beaming.

Probably Not Hard

With ease of hitting Enter Key,
I would so quicken entropy
Then take away from history
The retrospective gallery.

The fucking whores have ruined it,
Both world and meaning--all of it.
From fleeting, summer little bit
To systematic major shit.

The program is a pogrom that
Makes monster out of appestat.
The victims trading truth for fat
With lords accounting them as sprat.

Now people will subscribe to give
Control to stranger: pseudo-live.
Existence butchered by a shiv
Then split from freedom via sieve.

"We'd rather have our shapes be round
Than be unbound and traipse the ground.
Sound thinking is a painful sound
That can be drowned by hemlock downed."

Quiet

Whom do I thank for the painstaking prank
That is raking a shank on my hopefulness' flank?

Truly, the people I'm meeting are odd,
Has marauding by greed left them wholly that flawed?

Status and fatness are snapping the back
Of a time that is weakened from toxin-attack.

Apathy-pathogen binding the breath
Of a diligent mind till it lies near to death.

Joyfully pointed, the poison anoints
The most loyal with toil and then duty disjoints.

"No one would care if the world drowned in shit,
All the fuckers are making it hard to commit.

Intricate lazing is razoring all
The incentive I have to own burdening haul.

Others' inaction is giving me strife,
While us others in action keep striving through life.

Leaving my station of faithfulness might
Help deracinate hatefulness, blight all my spite.

Slowing emotional motive foregoes
The imposing of startling cardiac throes."

Thinking

It's hard to believe
All the peace that you cleave

With knife of a mind that eviscerates victim.

Your fictional diction, ridiculous dictum,

Are tempered by temper to hack life asunder.

If I were a god
You would truly be awed
By singular spitefulness trained on your person.
And were you to think my attack could not worsen
Your inseam would tear from Egestion of Wonder.

For now I can dream
That a demon will deem
Your scheming a breach of some principal compact:
"If reach of deceit should appear to have contact
With devil retainer--pain settles the blunder."

A Long Time

Like light cutting through all the vaporous mange
Of a gray that keeps brightness away from the range
Of your sight.  That is me, now my memory shines
For designing your shame with indelible lines.

Was that brave how you plied a portable cage
To desert me, invert all your empathy-rage?
"I'll decry if a fryer heats lard to spite fries
But let cowardice rise while the tiny one dies."

The last people with me were killers you paid,
The injectors of ending heard fated breath fade.
When my life fled my life, man, you should have been there,
But heart pumping those tears found but one thing to spare.

Term

There is no descent of a pendulum

To splinter the crushing patibulum

That's keeping your mind from all pabulum,

And famine has fangs that will clinch.

I truly hate all you have said to me.

The tone you employ should get bled so we

Can aurally mingle more peacefully.
Your voice can make astral form flinch.

I know that you have a priority
To speak with that bogus authority
On--sadly--the fucking majority
Of topics a person can think.

The first time I had to encounter you
My bruxism got so much louder to
Conceal from my ear all the jive you threw.
The aegis of calm got a chink.

Interview

Forgotten glaze hardened the sock that I chose,
Genetical stuff stuck to hair on my toes.
I hurried that morning then picked the wrong clothes,
Mistakes will take place in a haste, I suppose.

The public room I used to check on the wear
Of garment was harming with weaponized air.
Abusive diffusion made cilia tear.
I vowed to destroy whom exploded in there.

Some urine secured a quite prominent spot
Ensuring the lure of one dominant dot
Would pull in a flurry of staring and not
Allow a good day in the pants I just bought.

Doomed

I.

My flawed body hints draw an audience

That I can't convince of impertinence

When events evince a coincidence.

So much focus trained on philosophy

I think really baned my brain awesomely.

Now that shit has stained all the Laws of Me.

II.

I heard, "Things command our whole incidence

From abstractly grand to dumb dalliance,"

Then my tongue--unplanned--sought some relevance.

"How you're sitting there was a destiny

Borne from Cosmic Chair of Infinity?

Would gods fucking care where your pants will be?"

III.

"I will pardon your...odd tonality,
Use a moment for bit of clarity:
I claim no fate nor a true deity.

Now I won't explain what I really meant,
For your mind-terrain shows impediment
To avoiding lane of much brabblement."

Introducing II

Lightning Broad was a light thing, awed
Both her allies and foes with a prone fighting pose.

Smirking flowed in her limbs, which flawed
The reaction opponents gave in all her rows.

Pale, petite, with a faint ennui
That would slacken her black hair and hang solemn skirt.

Drooping eyes both were fit to see
Where electrical blade-form could leave utmost hurt.

Chainsaw

Petrified intestines,
Rock carving of natural casing,
Pumice gloves a demon could use
If he needed a facial effacing.

Dermal trait that destines
The roughness of humanly digit
Thought it fine to cover my skin
With a layer that gives functional limit.

Careful knife blade best thins
Expansion of hardening surface,
Lets my hand avoid time away
From its loneliness-murdering purpose.

Introducing

Bella Cose would bellow,
Yell over the din of chaos.
Lacking voice that followed
She thought of as an okay loss.

Denim and black leather
Were commonly worn to cover
Compact frame adorned by
Tattooed troop of dark-hued color.

Thick-thighed, quick-eyed brawler,
Hair spiky as the demeanor
Sharpened for the challenge
Of finding who might defeat her.

Melee flayed a staid day,
Lent meaning to act of breathing.
Fanged and feral penchant
Within her would not stop teething.

Bangle, ring, or knuckle
All chambered for chance to open
Skin on lip that bore the
Misfortune to have misspoken.

Parent, friend--all manner
Of person who moved to change her
Got a kicked-in windpipe
Then, "Fuck you, you fuck-head stranger."

Nope

Opposing my mind is like fighting a titan
Whose limits are heightened to level unbounded.
Imposing a plan where perimeters tighten
Will certainly get all your vertebrae pounded.

The cunning you claim, I'll be cutting to scatter,
Incising with psychical knives to make portions
Of psyche so tiny they never can matter,
All clever endeavors abandoned like orphans.

Your goal is to hold your emotive existence
From threshold exposing a need for expression.
My grin is a valley collecting resistance,
Gehenna to burn all that dumb, mock repression.

The mountain you stare at for fake introspection
I'm bashing with headbutts and elbows to crumble.
I always have plenty of pain plus invection
For someone who needs a whole mount to be humble.

My fingernails ailing your sky with the horror
Of scoring, leave heavenly azurite shrieking.
Then gashes make gaseous form bleed to raise torture,
The firmament falls to infirmness through leaking.

Ether

Romping, romping, roads are gleaming
Lightness lent to laud our soles.
Reflected spectrum genuflection,
Photon shoulder blades are beaming.

Drinking, drinking, faces glowing,
Cheeks are filled with crimson joy.
Our laughter scatters circumspection,
Harm is drowned by laugh-tears flowing.

Running, running--skin is humming.
Fingers weave to bond our souls.
The life I draw from your connection:
Muse's tune through sinew strumming.

Stopping, stopping.  Sleep is fading.
One more ale can't ease our end.
The time we had had no porrection,
Layer removed by wakeful scraping.

Comparison

Dream:

A bipedal shark
Showing limb on desert land.
Breathing air, bestowed with hands,
Gods of war at his command.

The weight on his arms,
Armor by divine supply,
Changing form to any shape
Mako mind might like to ply.

Life:

A golem of rags,
Fabric held by magic patch,
Wadded cloth that plods along
At a rate a sloth can match.

An opening mouth,
Riscus viscid with the gore
Sprayed by fount of torn-out neck
From a practice-killing boar.

Serrated bite tears
Man of rags to ragged fluff.
Mystic lance drawn to enhance
Mako making tattered stuff.

Tentative

Your gamble on that gambit, I will damn it into shambles.

Your gland that's in an armpit, I will hack to mash on gambrels.

The vanity that veins you, I will stain with venom vandals.

Invading blades that raid you soon will come with hidden handles.

Problem

I've never been accustomed to concussive thud of cudgel,
The impact of attack will crack me like a Pollux knuckle.
The pain from past inertia might bash brain till structures buckle.
Mere phantom of rejection sank my life in fecal puddle.

Obsession from an absence can have abscess carve a tunnel
Through part of heart one really needs to beat blood out of struggle.
I'm waiting for a voice to void the void of aural bubble;
The tone will be a tonic--hush all hurt with sonic muzzle.

Fictional

This harmfully charming guy
Fashioned a trap from lash of eye.
Reducing a woman to quiver
Inflated morale so much bigger.

Genetics gave him the look
Able to stab heart on his hook.
"Adonis the god is upon us,
We'll fawn on yon bod in a ruckus."

Reserve bent to pliant lull--
Memphis against a giant bull.
His voice would then melt down the shelter
That echoed the last of doubt's welter.

Fair flesh would allow his skin
Witness to wetness pooled within.
(And each of these tender connections
Were ended on foggy complexions.)

One spear in the spirit meant
Nothing--it was no rare event.
Impalement of pride could not stalemate
The juggernaut plotting for soulmate.

"Although he chose not to stay
Tainting is faint for my cachet.
I know the next time he is near me,
My mind will find how to endear me."

I Thought I Was Really Good

I.

If I could curse a greater thing
Than my stupid, faulty frame,
I would pick Ursa Major, blank
It from space due to its name.

Revenge for Tyssa cannot come
In a manner outside dream.
I now dismiss the notion that
Our bad fortune will not teem.

I failed to figure how to beat
The brown king of anti-fair.
There is no bigger hassle than
That big bastard Mr. Bear.

II.

My jaw is clenching, tense with awe
At the counter I just saw.
The plans I draw are mainly made
With appalling parts of flaw.

My inner critic must guffaw
Till he has a cramping maw.
That paw regards a jump-kick like
It is odd, outdated law.

Attrition

Never have I bent to be content with soaked-bone pliancy.
Will fades from my heart, has been retreating off to cyan sea.
Blood and air and iron flowing deepen all that's weak in me.
Every cell colludes to make a movement toward complacency.

Open like a beggar's hand, my spirit always catches
Pelting from an oily scalp rained down when some god scratches.
Promise of a better time appears in thinning batches,
Sanctuary cover cannot guard its vital thatches.

Lissome frame of ardor now is sagging, filled with muck.
Present frowns with curve of force that will not swerve my luck.
Duty and defiance are bereft of fervent buck.
Quitting might take effort, and, if so--then fuck--I'm stuck.

Win

A June bug assailed my ear
Like a biplane fueled by thunder.

That insect will not receive
Just requital for his blunder.

Attacker gets smacked by hand,
Palm a godly swat on body.

(The concrete below can test
If a shell has been made shoddy.)

And that would be my sole role
In the setup to defeat him,

Because when the dog gets near,
Bitch is going straight to eat him.

Okay

Alcohol and a cigarette
Heal me like a coronet
Hung on my heart by the curative
Hands of Panacea.

Folding chair has been holding my
Life in mold to petrify
Anything that could be correlative
To a good idea.

Days all fall through an orifice
Carved by lack of impetus.
Boredom has bored holes that function as
Portals for desertion.

Nothing will pique my urgency.
Layers are staid inside of me.
Why should I care what the future has?
I'm stuck with the portion.

Idiot

Adventerous hair, all shining red
Like fireworks drawn into coil.

My eyes had to stare, sight did embed
The image in memory soil.

With iris of blue, she could have crushed
The world by chromatic compaction.

(What can a world do? Fight would be hushed
If charm coaxed a willful inaction.)

Limbs thin as a dream pulled by the urge
Of mind to save things made when sleeping.

My worldly esteem had quite a surge
For beauty the world had been keeping.

My heart pumped her name. Breath rose and fell
To know in what way she was scented,

And brain did not claim means to foretell
Which plan could leave her doubt relented.

I prayed I might feel her lips on me
Then make slip bereft of thigh valley,

Alas, my true zeal--hard not to see--
Botched pinning her down as a tally.

"That Rod of Despair, joke given flesh,
Containing blood my touch won't leaven,

Should stay in that lair, taste razored mesh,
Be barred from the entrance to heaven."

Buddy

A small, blue bean.
Your limbs are dormant and soft
While silent hymns hold dream aloft.
You seem serene.

Your face makes light.
Inspired smiling can bring
A tranquil gleam to any thing.
Sad thoughts catch blight.

My old way halts.
Completion now is exempt
From stupid things I may attempt.
You bear no faults.

Sole stomps the air.
Your cycling feet can't repel
The judgment cosmic laws compel.
God is unfair.

Another

Who will be the first one to christen
My weak wishes with a listen?

Why do ears seem to lose their function
When vibration seeks compunction?

Life has never produced a version
Of a grin less my aversion.

Every mouth I've seen bears a slant for
Knifing faith--it now lies blood-poor.

Some days I want to claw my face, rip
Tear-soaked ribbons, test my frail grip.

I don't think that a world would mourn this
Portrait torn to mangled lattice.

Myth

I don't want this to be a phase,
Capped and trapped by finite days.
If given command of Chronos' ways,
The things I want time could not raze.

With your murderous wink and laugh,
Parted lips tore pain in half,
Divided parts landed in past chaff--
No eulogy nor flag half-staff.

Effort truly can be a waste,
Donor left spent and disgraced,
But pining for you, in full, erased
The rue per rule that I have faced.

Non-fulfillment can be a prize,
For when life shuns and denies
With hardship undue, some good applies
When strength is gained or doubting dies.

Ha Ha Now What

Light powdered then pressed with a nymph's nimble hum
Then layered to a softness--that is your skin.
Fixation confessed could pull pride to succumb,
But lathing by grace made shamefulness thin.

There's hope that within me some good might be stored--
Your eyes glean a value I do not view.
The normal chagrin that I seem to record
When seeing the world would never claim you.

Your love could efface an old gash torn by pain,
Wipe clean my soul-surface, have guilt desist.
Elixir-embrace could make lame anger's reign,
If only a "you" like you did exist.

Borderline

The complexities of your complex show like prose composed completely.
No one has to be insightful to incite you in full sight here.
The non-sequitur of your nonsense will not don dunce cap discreetly.
Flowing fount of flaws gets featured by a failure to lend free ear.
The proclivities of your process promise stop to any treaty:
Broken overture that beckons for an overturn of slight cheer.
The ineptitude of your attitude exudes profuse entreaty.
Pleading, "Please concede preemption, for rejection feeds me true fear."

Gun Bars

I.

If the Taurus gets unleaded, then your diesel will be shredded.

Ram or jaguar gets beheaded--you'll dodge Magnum or be ended.

II.

I have begun, and you should know I don't bumble behind this chrome.

A stinging swarm will hit your chest--dripping honey from out your comb.

III.

I can't play with you any more, your constant gaming dwarfs renown.

So ejection of cartridge will precede your system shutting down.

IV.

Pray for a miracle.

Chasing your ventricle?

Steve McQueen vehicle.

You Know

Can serrated creation
Ablate the gestation
Of poor imitation?

Can tongue weaponed all coolly
Abjure the unruly
Then banish them truly?

Is there any effective
Blockade made deflective
Against all invective?

Are all hearts egoistic,
Agenda simplistic:
Make all word sophistic?

Will once fateful schematic
One day be erratic
Or stay ever static?

Can a lack of conclusion
Attack--leave contusion--
On hopeful delusion?

Is there anything weaker,
Or station that's bleaker,
Than insecure seeker?

With Myself

"Did I see you eat that whole package of sausage?"
It's not made of meat--more like oily soy homage.
My hunger did take my weak will for a hostage,
Then oxygen break was the lone cause of stoppage
Throughout the chomp-session. My jaw could have tired,
But surfeit-food freshly made movement inspired.
Both pride and shame blended odd cocktail that sired
Compulsiveness ending all pretense acquired.
My defect rebuts creed of keeping me strapping
When glutting my guts has the crowd in me clapping.
It never will matter if fat cells are mapping
Expansion to fatten the layer that is trapping
True value inside, for all minds of discernment
Already decided I get life internment,
And shape was not factored. There is no deferment
Of dignity hacked for its urine interment.

Switch

I.

I have marzipan shaped like a hammer to battle the mudslide-minded golem.
Always hope for a little, quick stammer but pause with a tongue-arresting whole "um."
Then a stuttered walk coughing these steps on a life that hates all feet is my precept,
And I'm harried to bear the full terror of terrible things without a peace kept.
My heart beats with the tenor of nay-saying coward for pacing fade of progress.
Every needle, baton--or a poisonous myrmex--that hurt me had no eustress.

II.

It's relative, right?
So please keep your laugh
For a day that you want to be broken in half
By a ridge hand or knife hand or front of a car.
Cut the halves into halves and then have them flung far
In diasporic divvy, fractional body
Will never return--who's laughing with me?
No one, okay. But the penance for silence?
Many devices...meting out violence.

Explanation

The toilet is just way too far from me.
The toil? It means that a jar will be
Receptacle for the assuredly
Inept trickle made by anxiety.

My hydra-like hangups are tangling
A pair of hands that should be angling
At movement for more than food mangling
To murder all defect by strangling.

Positive

I hate the form of your formal chicanery,
Coursing in order too boastful and banter-y.
Normalcy borders much more toward decanter-y
Flowing in forwardly pour with no flattery.
If words were frozen to mold a cold armory
My thoughts would armor a golem-ice battery.
Freezing, fierce legion to seize the dull gallery,
Ration no smashing, gut gall on chill cutlery.
Pound bones to powder--ground particle injury
Spread in full breadth bodes a warning as potpourri.
Noses will know that the notion of foolery
Rapidly bans proud and vapid from memory.

Bashing your fashioned facade to a misery
Would be, to me, like God lauded my victory,
But, if I'm close to gain such time exemplary,
Gilding of guile can show smile and then murder me.

Revisit

I don't fight off tears, but they fight on me
Competing to gain a prize oft in reach.
My factory pie, my medicine peach.
No chaperon snot is all I beseech.

The drops want to know--does prophesy lie?
When swallowed can they be cried one more time?
Their faith-fall might pelt my pastry to slime
Then only add haste to therapy-chyme.

Oh, Stop

Your actions here do not abide by any kind of logic.
With miniature force applied, I reach in to dislodge brick
Supporting gain made when you lied. Mirage must now rely on
Autophagic feed from inside, chicane won't further ply spawn.
My every word will shame, deride, abash then gut your title.
Accounts, they shall have truth for guide; no whim will turn recital.
Can baby-stride traverse the wide and wicked breach deceit rakes?
Can brittle origami side with hands that bend till gem breaks?
The cuts long drawn have now replied, official blood type: fuck you.
Breath dwindled by a magma tide, bone kindled free of luck-cue.
My mission can't inflate my pride till your renown is charred dust.
No cap on how much time I'll bide to bash remains to stardust.

Imbalance

I can't kill myself with your back inside the contour of my arm,
If we touch then life has meaning, meaning much or maybe not.
The crux onto which I have nailed you now should never cause alarm;
For my mind is rather plastic, you will find it change a lot.
All the whimsy that has controlled my time has yet to deal great harm,
Though I guess if painful instant did egress then I forgot.
Lack of money and motivation has contempt for daydream scheme,
On your brain is chambered defense to explain your current state.
Any argument that you can create won't ever quite redeem
Any marring of such beauty (which is far above ornate).
Hands will bloom then bunch on our skin to make amnesia-shivers teem,
Straddled here you can't be lower, it is clear how I should rate.

Quick

I'm stabbing my future with gray, clouded puncture.
Cessation could suture, but now at this juncture,
Those thoughts will be few per the word of a drunk cur.


His final law: "You, sir...get life in a funk blur."

Mellow Drama

You should exist; for when narrative frame whispers willowy myth
All elegant lines which a world can impart are displayed.
I envy sun--were I able to aim my photonic esteem
Your vellus hair charm would be whorled by the hazing praise made.

When my eyes blink, the wet snap is a kiss on your porcelain poise,
The blessing you beam can clean jaded, dead cells from my sight.
Are words enough? Will a heart not spurn this weak description of things
In truth that have clout to have faded gods' doubt with no fight?

I think of you. Thoughts are screaming in storm, build-up cumulus wince,
Amphista connecting my longing and you will not die.
This kind of hurts; till my life takes a form I can bow or transform
I'm cutting at mind to hew throng of strong muses to ply.

From Jack-in-Irons to Thee or Freya

I.

Two "L's" could be
The lavender lilt of a lark lauding lilac with spirited stilt from a tree.
Or the leavening laugh of a lass slashing folkways,
Garroting the gaffe that an aggregate mind fails to see.

Two "L's" conceive
The lynx-luminescence of eyes healing dark when they donate their essence to eve.
Or a lampooning lassitude well past the point of
Reclaiming a bastard-land born by all things that deceive.

Two "L's" can mean
The lexical life-force I breathe, deftly dotted by fingers that knife through false mien.
Or the labyrinth loop: How I'm blessed with the guessing
Of psychical troop where the headless and heedless convene.

II.

In everything two "L's" impel
They also form an end to hell.

Doubts

Surprising us all, by claim of "going on" you meant
To never return, despite our vocal monument.

An aeriform cairn we sang so high then yearning-trussed,
Our sedative plea for sleepy sigh from wanderlust.

But, really, you went, ejecting former life with haste,
Egesting old friends, their ilk a swarming, futile waste.

What stuff can you gain? The rigor mortis avarice
Of everyone else will likely thwart your abacus.

Will love find that face? Embrace that anti-symmetry?
Or keep it at bay--assured by scant telemetry?

Then think on your voice. The crest? A cut. The trough? A crash.
No ear can survive that jagged glut of sonic trash.

The minions of mass will stomp on heart without a thought,
And creperie-made resolve can't barter better plot.

Your venture is doomed; the weakest one we know shall wane.
So come back below, be safely under zealous plane.

Noted

You know everything--

The very thing.

And the very thing

Is everything.

Yep

When a course is moving forward,
Is the movement surely destined?
Given guidance over heart,
Then after that,
Securely breastpinned?
Partial physics from a phantom,
Parts involve mix more than random?
Or events turn without pattern--
Life and meaning never tandem?
No, my brain will pick a path from
Many pathways that it has, and
Any place or thing I pass can
Blame a thought for what was not planned.
If a soul should ever touch me,
I shall ever be indebted.
Not for fate nor luck nor chance, but
For the meaning we've invented.

Kind of (Really)

When pure purpose performs a complete perforation, the pomp of perfume is not hallowed.
For your paleness, your eyes--that tattooed revelation--tore pettiness' womb, left it hollowed.
I have willed to decay my olfactory worry, the old reign of fear is not followed.
So a pilgrimage planned by my tongue will pay fealty; your image to be--most of all--owed.

Fake

Security nor clemency nor fortune are your neighbors
When your marrow gets exposed in open pose by these two sabers,
And the force that I would need for forcing tears after you bleed
Would be a portion that could form the floor of mythopoeic labors.

Your fortitude gets smashed-in, bashed by mental iron cabers,
Then your volley in reply is like a sigh from faded vapors.
Any plan that you can graph against my hate must earn a laugh
Because our battle is a clash between unequally set natures.

Kin fractured will be factioned by much vile and viral fiction,
After malleus and incus clang with malice-masking diction.
And the calumny I plant I might some day grant a recant
Contingent on if rift it tore was more than healing jurisdiction.

Not a Chore

Devil in the washing water.
Tiny bit of kitchen squatter
Hiding with the crumbs and greases.
Evil in my sink increases.
Spray bleach from a plastic mister
Might fade such a tough resistor.
Shrouded eyes now round, astounded.

Shadowed maw in frown dumbfounded.

Cloak is soaked, sill heavy-sagging;

Mortal fear in me is lagging.

He can't bend my warding instinct
Even with a promise blood-inked.

If he makes a grand proposal,

I'll turn on food waste disposal...

"Priestly sneeze above the counter
Keeps you safe in this encounter.
Mucus from your uncle hampers
Any spell that matter-tampers.
Money, sir, to drain the liquid?
Wait--that tender was insipid.
Powers?  Telepathic prowess?
Future damage now made harmless?"

Bulwark in my brain contorting.
Notions angle toward aborting
Plans for holding demon captive.
Human thought should be adaptive.
Stepping back, I ponder offer:
Have fulfilled fantastic coffer?
"Sure," I say, "plus five more wishes.
After you destroy these dishes."

Life

I should have remembered to buy more snacks,
For I like all my vices in triplicate.
Hold a moment that's partially darkened,
Then with toxin-tip pin really stipple it.
The synergy forming is incomplete,
All the planning was fucking way typical.
No good reason to sabotage something,
But my reason has been ever minimal.

I beat on my lungs to make boredom pass,
Killing carpet and clothes and longevity.
I would stop if so pushed by companion,
Or resume when beyond her vicinity.
But vodka will probably exit last--
My brain shaped to be floating on awesomeness
Of both setting and sound ever smiling
For to cradle non-fey, roaming consciousness.

Either

Your ghost is here? Now damn that shit.
I reign the material plane.
My spectral nail takes just one hit
To end an ethereal brain.

A proto-plasmic mallet made
For mashing a spirit or fiend.
I'll add more pain with rune-writ blade
Until your last bit is demeaned.

A banshee cry kept in a box
(Best done with roc feather in ear).
Will thrash and split, bombard with shocks,
Divide by vibrational shear.

So you should go. I'll warn no more:
My arsenal prays to show worth.
(Or quiet leave, straight to the door
Could also bring something like mirth).

Snapping

When necks are near me they seldom nod, they love to have me "no'ed."
Though common I never get used to it--chill splash from a public commode.

Your flash-denial is nothing new, you've copied from the mass.
Please know that I'll never remember you, just "face that will choke in morass."

You're not above me, though if you were, the spot would hang from doom.
Suspended beneath a mad manticore, who makes his hell-belly your tomb.

But this won't happen. The only way for fairness to be wrought,
Is praying that Heavenly tendency devises divinely-borne plot.

I am not hateful, my word is jest, a hug runs through my veins.
A spinal embrace for all enemies--the permanent cure for their pains.

Accept

I have no way to rectify that which is not complete.
No tear of tears can nullify my penchant for defeat.
Ineptness and inertia now confine me to this seat.
My mind replete with thoughts of how to always...be replete.

I'm plaquing all the insides to commend each of my faults.
All notions of the future seep from leaking fecal vaults.
They're bleak, I think: these un-lived days I have till breathing halts.
This padding makes malaise too thick, can't help when dread assaults.

No shining smiling goads my heart to give another beat.
No face, no hands, no other part will seek my skin to meet.
My mien will always crucify a kind and toward-me feat.
And that is why, I want to die--crying as I eat.