Sewers of Contempt

There is a stranger
That has entered the space between
Wisdom and knowledge
Universe and time
Cracked under that Seven
Head faced so high
But you better leave this house
Because I rent
And you abhor
But there in the darkness
A red light, shown
Unlock the doors
Seek and beseech
We cannot adhere
In a small place
Together
For we have grown apart
By a year
Of many years
But you do not know me
And you do not belong
In the sewers of contempt
In the alleys of
goodbye

Do nots and Cannots

I can write
maybe four lines
maybe six
but I cannot
because I do not feel
I am able to state
what is wrong
and
what is right
because I cannot tell
what the difference
between
good
and
bad
both lead to distruction
of either my heart
or of my soul
and I need not lose
another

The Middle Land

who are you
what have you become
who am I
how are we seen
by the other?

punching bag

punching fists into walls
never works
for anything
other then
bloody fists
but we keep
punching
because
I am your
punching bag

Obsession

will my desire
survive without
this obsession?
It would feel
like I am dying
if not for this
craving
because it has
kept this boat
a float
but this
desire must go
for it is growing old
because I hide in
this obsession
because it fiction
the my ideals
and I would
rather not
boast fantasy.

Wrongly Mistaken

Your crooked nose
from years of
crack
makes your nose hair
grey
instead of
black
and your rotten teeth
and your breath
wretched
not to mention
your hair is thinning
makes me plesant

It's not a surpise
even clean
you can't decide
what's right
because you're wrong
wrongly mistaken

Blankets of Fear

There is a wall built
between you and I
that should be broken down
but you won't take it apart
and my tools are still
in the shed

There is an ocean created
between you and I
that should be sailed
but you boat is being repaired
and mine
has been sold

There is a distance
between you and I
that should not be there
though we cannot break it
or maybe we can

Maybe there is nothing
or there is something
between you and I
but we're here
in blankets of fear

That Picture of Me

That picture of me
on your wall
after all this time
I want to tear it down
and put it on mine
because it was taken
by a dear friend
who speaks volumes
about friendship
and reveals your lies

That picture of me
remains there or so
I would think
so I cannot leave
your side
when you sleep
but you do not watch over me
because I learned to keep
my past
at a safe distance

Wasted Days

Keep the dream alive
but we cannot sleep
because we were up
too long
trying to keep
the day awake
but as I flicker
with the tempation
of slumber
I'm kept together
of what should have been done
before the day was through
though it is always
the same
Saturdays tend to be
wasted days
or just another day
but I'm just barely here
with my eyes shutting
to sleep
to wonder

Failure

I guess you could say I do this about everyday
stare a this blank page
and wonder what to say
to the one that
brought love and pain
but as I get older,
I'm starting to forget
all the things that came with love
and just see
how much pain you put me in
and then comes sadness
we cannot even be friends
because you made me feel worth something
and I start to realize that
now I'm nothing
to you
and it has made me doubt my worth
that anyone else would be able
to see it too

Materials Unaccounted For

Fuck you and your
silly simple ways
of shock and dismay
without devotion
we are animals
to sin
for cards were dealt
and I'm still picking
them up
the anger keeps wanting to come out
but it gets bottled
in barrels of toxic dump
withdrawn
and forsaken
to be a homo
in hetero

Cigarettes

A million steps
instead of twelve
three cigarettes
for a downward facing dog
we are communal
and desperate
for release by Kubler-Ross
Instead of a test subject
of Pavlov
Two cigarettes
star crossed
without a cross
sign and dialect
lost in light
blinded by sound
but at the deepest core
they know better
then history
and it's lessons
for one cigarette
is given to a
posthuman ghost
like wind
through a screen
on a front porch
through a child of
Lamarck
but is it wind
or just smoke

Shit Stick

The two of us on your floor
your head just slightly
above my knees
while I look down
and settle in this postion
your sloppy kisses
on my shit stick
feeling your hair product
in your hair
rubbing against my hands
and I settle
at this condition
realizing
reality
and your mission
to blow kisses
and break hearts
but this isn't
going to get me off

Typical Me

I do not like what I see in the mirror
and I do not like how I feel
but because of myself
and not from the
victims from behind me

I will never be typical beauty
and I will never be typical
in personality
because of family
and because of me

What is so Funny?

What is so funny?
Did I get pushed off the cliff
and shrug my shoulders?
Did my heart get hurt
by a loser?

What is so funny?
Oh yeah,
nothing is funny
about these moments
except I am slowling
losing them
and there is
no one to remind me
or anyone to share
them with

Love and Answers

She was him
in love with someone else
she saw she hurt someone
trying to fix it
so she stopped trying to
correct mishaps
and stopped giving
love and answers
she gave only
more chances
to people who did not
know better
because she had grown
but she could not see
who she was
was not
who he be

Or Less, or More

Save me from the oceans
that rock and sway
pristine waters
and take me to
the rocky mountains
that guide by
pebbles and stones
for I am a quarter
or less
or more
bound my land
our hunger source
feed me
protect
the animals
of spirit
from extinction
for I am three fourths
or less
or more
brought to the
ocean because
I am bound
my many a different
force