jordanzombie.

Moth holed clothes following my eyes, devise.  Zephyr air rushes over, a clever story keeping calm, weathered.  A mossiac of bayonets pinning me to walls, most notably known for knowing nothing at all.  Told time passes do to mass of gases, air spirals, vials mixing; all but one missing.  Meaning all the same, a samples only bear one shame.  Reactive, contracting, reacting.  Earth worms with jagged teeth, destructively refracting light.  A plight, words never used before to fight the mind's whore.  Silver teeth, no hair, iron eyes that only stare.  I can see you silver child. Missing minds, you're holding mine, tilted head pours wine devine.

Gloves on, morals in my pocket, rosary around my neck, feels like I forgot it. Watch it, ball kicks and the goalies head goes off with it. Chillin’ with Oedipus, better than the rest of us, are his moms eyes gouged out? Naw, she’s just testing us. Bear in mind this design is beyond behind. Fall back and call out like everyone's minds are fine. Pay cash for your regrets, is it bad that we pay more in debt? Realize: that is pestilence that shows the resilience of people. We don’t need another hero; statistics hit zero and gravestones stay unmarked because no one’s here to know. Not finished, nor does it have a title. So...yeah.

 I am a drop of ink on a one dollar bill being handed to a homeless man by a less than well off middle-age single mother.  I am passed along from him to a 17 year old girl working at McDonald's up the street for a hamburger.  She collects me as part of her pay, then uses me to buy a bag of dope, the dealer uses me to snort a line of coke.  I am stolen from his house from a furious ex that he cheated on.  She gives me to her daughter who now has just enough money to buy her Barbie Doll Dream House that shes wanted for so long.

 My sheets tickled my nose.  Soft cloth, warm and conforming to me.  I rolled over to greet the sun; it pierced through the fatigue and sit up to stand.  I step into m slippers and walk to the kitchen, a warm meal, freshly cooked waited for me on the table.  I live alone but it’s there every morning so I eat it.  There’s no use starving.  My clothes are laid out, so I wear them, comforting.  I walk to the end of my bridge like drive way to collect the paper, to inform myself of the daily news.  To my surprise there is nothing new.  The glass dome above me is cracking, I can feel it.

 

 He spoke to me through the computer screen, his voice low and stuttering.  The static faded in and out taking his face away from me, but his voice was steady.  He told me to cut my hair, so I grew it longer.  He said it looked good, fit my face, so I shaved it.  The screen split hoplessly and a hand came out, bleeding.  I taped the glass together so the light would stay on, some of it leaked out and burned my hand.  From the boiling skin a prayer was muttered, softly at first but more volitile with every passing second.  They told me that I was made of ones and zeros and the face on the screen was flesh and bone.

Priorities. I find them humorous among my generation, no respect, no honor, no morals. There will be no graduation party in my honor, or fancy presents. I wont get a car, or a mac book pro with the latest accesories so I can brew coffee via USB. My peers wont cheer, in all honesty I'll probably duck out of the graduation ceremony theres no point in it. Mail me my diploma so I can mail a big fuck you letter back, with all the frills, just for you.

 Eyes closed, golden skull with diamonds for teeth.  Stomachs full, blood smeared on our cheeks.  Dagger teeth smells like bleach into the ground to survive the heat.  Hair like wires conducting storms, hellish rooms taking form.  The begged us not to dance but too deep in trance, our bodies twitched.  Our heads itched and we scratched through the skin onto play do skulls, replacing them with gold.  The barber questions our methods, how we redid our heads.

So we toil and boil the blood, faster the better, admitting that we never would.  I could, if i wanted to, if i had dreams of a happier you.  I know you so well.   To my surprise i know your hell, better than you think.  Spit it into the sink, red ink to make you speak, marked your body but youre not weak.  You think too much, you're cold to the touch, old songs we remember so well.  I see the sounds they float around and whisper through your hair. The silhouette of air, strong and unclear, i fear the worst. Its cursed and rehearsed by everyone on earth as we wait for final damnation.

The mirror you hung above your head, you said its better.  It reflects more light up there.  We didn't want see each other anyways.  I wok suddenly, the sandman had slipped away leaving a trail of dust behind him.  It smelled like burnt hair. I wondered down the hall with winding walls to find him, his coils were coming undone and it was only a matter of time.  I stopped, to inject it into my eye, it rushed to my brain and the walls started to twist and turn like never before, everything turned silver as i ran down the ceiling, he was right below me but just out of reach.

Part  One.
Sapphires for eyes, she was made.  Her hips, they swayed with every move, eventually she said she'd stay, until the last move was played.  Initially I had lied, her voice had died.  So strong at first, at least she tried.  I love her dress, i love her more.  Maybe not, but i do adore they way she looks lain on my floor.  She rose, and chose her words so wise, that i may realize its not her eyes that i so prize but that thought that within still lies.  And so, I lit her smoke in hopes shed choke on every soft word she ever spoke.  i awoke drenched in sweat, reminder of debt and despair.  Her hair tangled and gold, it grew and took hold, surrounding me in our room.  My tomb, i love it dearly.

Part Two.

Long nights, fist fights, biting necks, regrets and life long debts.
Stealing, knowledge dealing, feeling alive, striving and thriving rivals.
Ink on paper, mysterious waiters, spiked drinks bring new ways to think.
Singing along, living long, giving it all while creating a world that refuses to fall.
Wire like hair, creating storms.  Speechless, dry mouths drooling, tide pools. Confusing.
Fear me, but hear me, listen.  Her skin glistens, its written on her lips, i can taste it.  Face Death.


 

I.
          She walked towards me from out of the sun.  Arms spread with the kind hearted intent on saving me.  There are monsters to both of my sides, and in their minds lies cruelty.  My redemption was finally complete.  I had changed, not who I was, not how I was, but what I was.  Metal into bones, plastic into flesh, wires into veins and of course electricity into blood.  Warm, free flowing blood.  My arms are heavy, this meat takes its toll on me.

II.
          I can only see the side of her face.  With golden eyes and crooked teeth, it is no surprise that she haunts me.  I feel something never felt before, the fresh skin of my neck hugs every hair, and makes them stick up as a cold chill creeps down my back.  My pig's heart beats rapidly and I start to tremble.  What is this, who is this, and who is she?

III.  
          Her hair blows in the wind and from this angle it almost looks as if it's attacking the clouds.  The breeze glides over her glistening skin, its so warm here.  Earth is moving so fast, I can feel it.  I wonder if it fears.  Fears that it will one day die.  Fears that it does not exist, like the rest of us.  But does it mean anything for something, that does not exist, to wonder about the fears of other things that do not exist?

IV.
          Her nails are long and split, with bits of flesh under them.  The veins in her hands protrude and her fingers are skinny; she wears two gold rings on the end of her index finger.  Her paper lips opened and a voice blasted from her mouth, and in my head I hear someone screaming a name.  My name? No, just a name, over and over until I'm sweating and trembling on hands and knees; I think I am screaming too.  Then silence, absolute, painful silence.

V.
          A truly volatile smell awoke me.   Nothing was left except a small stem of Posies, wrapped around my arm.  A golden haired corpse lays beside me.  Worn and shriveled, she had marks covering her body.  An rusted sky greets my eyes as I attempt to stand, my knees feel so weak still.  Am I still non existent?

VI.
          I broke off the last restraining piece of me that day.  Threw it into the ocean and hoped that it would sink, it didn't.  I watched the earth die too.  It knew its death was inevitable though, so it peacefully passed but now I am here alone.  Sentenced to admire the dried up oceans and the never dying sunrise.

finished.

          Knee deep in mudd a flood of blood to my brain as i try to contain what always slips away.  Today I pray again, to redirect sin so I may smile.  Though condemned all the while.  This ignorance is bliss, try to resist the kiss and carry me. 


can finish, fml.

          By the way you dance I can tell the air has stopped to watch us, it surrounds and intangles the wolves that watch too.  Trimmed and pristine, I mean they are so clean, as to watch us judging with their claws in my back.  Comfort comes from white sheets and reactions, pupils contracting from the attracting glares.  Their stares as we spin, almost fast enough for us to begin again.  Breathe in, tracing spines and kissing skin.  A question from every answer, spin all night, tiny dancer.

          You'll never know why I did what I did.  I'll take it to the grave, but this machine that I made, it can stay.  The sky stays so heavy, cracking the infinite pillars that held it.  They were shaky, but they did their part.  The faint tapping of my feet got farther and farther away with every step, I was lost among the clouds.  A plane flew past me and its draft flung me back into my body just in time, as I walked through my front door.  The walls expanding and contracting with my every breath.  The phone rang and the walls shook, they were timid and paranoid: I understood they had seen a lot.  It was you calling, again, rambling about something terrible, somthing haunting, I blocked you out.  Static overwelmed your voice as my eyes rolled back into my skull, I hit the ground and the world shook.
          A sound woke me this morning, I wasn't sure what it was, but thinking back, I'm not even sure it was a sound at all.  I clutched my coffee cup, the warmth coming from it flickering across my face.  The light that streamed through the windows was a good sign, though the walls look pecilur.

Feast upon me, so that maybe I'll see what you believe me to be. Strong when youre weak, you refuse to speak. I'll tear apart your world, your tongue in your cheek. My teeth gnawing at air, split it like hair, lay it on masses so maybe they'll care. Rip your lungs from your chest, feeling better than best, held above my head like I stole your families crest. Keep talking, your coffin keeps calling, step too far to find yourself falling. Six feet underground, while no one in this town knows that you vanished without a sound.

          I did not shed my skin like you asked.  Not out of spite, only for the sake of comfort.  Take my lust, string it from my pores and weave me a blanket to take me home.  Crimson skies from street lights, I see no stars tonight.  The clouds circled overhead, and through them I could see myself.  The waves meet my foot and run away again, like they always do.  I mess with the bracelet that held me here, wrapping the string around my finger to cut of the circulation.  The wind pick up and gives me wings, in the arms of a hurricaine I hear someone speak, "I told you to welcome the reaping."

          Standing on hardwood, kinetic, I dance on the ceiling feeling more pathetic.  But you've read it before, this whore of a story line.  Its not right, not this time.  I ask for a definition and you set it in the wind again, restart my friend? Where do I begin?

         The thorns sting straight through my arm, the sun bends down and I ride upon, the wind, that i cant hold on to, sings a melody that reminds me of you.  Fragrance fades into the dirt. close up doctors "where does it hurt?" Regurgitate the waves in the sea, to see the sea and try and be, believibly, a ghost.  Get the most of room while stay, pay with your life, you chose to stay.  Is it hot outside, we caught a ride while lady luck leads me on, look again, shes gone.

Its a start. feb 27

          He understands me, in small, sweet sentences but only with slurred words.  The serpent of a man creeps from out of the cracks in the ground.   Scales wrapping his eyes, he flicks his tongue taunting me.  His hair slicked back by his self made grease, the slime whispered to me, and I reluctantly listened.  He told me of the world, and its betrayal to him, how it pulled a silk and satin carpet from under his feet.  My heart sped up as he whispered, " I was once you," he drew a sharp breath, "you're next".  Crimson clouds erupted from the ground and wrapped their acid-like hands around me, ripped me into the air,and slammed me face first, back onto the concrete.  I couldn't hold my eyes open as I saw him slither away.
          It split the darkness, whatever it was.  The sun maybe, once called a god, now a burden, what should I make of it next?  Regaining my vision, one pixelated blink at a time, confusion creeping down my spine, I feel something soft and warm rub against my leg.  Then I hear a pur, quiet at first, but when I moved to sit up it grew louder.  I sat up wearily and look for what had caressed me.  It was a small, white cat, with one black spot on its back. I reached for her and she meowed as picked her up.  The tag around her neck said 'Maria'.  I lifted her to eye level and asked, "How long have you been here little one?"  She tilted her head and stared at me, "Long enough," I thought to myself.  The shack I was left in could be considered shit, at best.  The thin wood walls were patched with scraps of wood, metal, pretty much anything they could find.  The beams of light that flowed in carried a layer of dust, it was almost hard to breathe.  
          I stood up only to realize there was no door, or walls for that matter, they had vanished completely.  So had Maria.  I looked into the distance, the horizon was hazy and rippling from the heat.  I was in a desert, lost and alone.  Then I heard a voice in the back of my head, it said, "Walk and  I will guide you".  I stepped forward and fell into the sand, it seered my skin and muscle from my bones.  I sank deeper and deeper into the twisting, burning sand until I was up to my neck.  At the epitome of my pain a dark cobra, with a white spot on its hood, slid up to me and kissed my nose.  It meowed and I was incinerated.
 

"You are as I was, as I am you shall become."

          Canyon glide, I hide inside, but to spring out to surprise, you died.   The storm swarms and flows back out again, it hurls wind and begins to spin.  It attracts the flies they sell their lies; harmonize as they rise. I comprize a new shape of these eyes that i call mine. Pour more wine the golden divine, I once called upon a murderous swine as mine. The lines i trace with my finger grow bigger, follow the smoke as I still linger on the trigger.

          Over my shoulder this corpse laughs.  His eyes withered and wilted, he held his head tilted.  He does have a use occasionally. To ward of the devils that bother me, for all eternity. Heavy like the luggage of a leader, I can't decide whether he arrives with his heart still alive. Every single sentence lingers, rosery in hand, and blood dripping from fingers. Nailed to my body of begger we choose to dine on the divine, so sweet is their screaming on this particular night. Continue flowing with smoke, you choke on your own words you spoke.

From down the hall I hear them screaming. I want to quiet them softly but I keep on dreaming. The speaker studders so sweetly, as if repeating the phrase would destroy it completely.  The skin on the back of my neck tingles, eyebrows rose, and my  forehead wrinkles.  She creeps up to kiss my neck, nonexistant, I love her none-the-less. The nurse strolls by and as soon as she spoke I thought of the ways I could make her choke. I screamed back in a devilish tone that I wanted a new pill to call my own. The smiles and walks away, the sky flips over to a bright new day.

I sink back into it all.  Ease deep into the water, reaching out, I had caught her.  Calm and controlling, I feel it start to surround my body.  Covering every inch; I covet the air. Expel this waste from the wound, its been entombed for so long, its so wrong to keep it all to myself.  I cant see but in the sea I am miles deep and on my knees. I am begging for mercy, tender mercy, but sing merci beaucoup mademoiselle.  Grey hair flows to my toes, it rapidly weaves through these fictionettes.  They dance their dance while the devil spoke, with every new word, I hope you choke.  In the most terrible of ways.  The flies rise to form eyes,  they're a beacon to the world.  I hold her face full of mirrors, do you hear her too?  She sings in the winding ways that I had hoped would come from you.  She repeats, "I would help you win, if you'd only accept defeat."

 

          The speaker studders so sweetly, as if repeating the phrase would destroy it completely.  The skin on the back of his neck tingles, his eyebrows raise, and  forehead wrinkles.  He scratches is chin, five o'clock shadow that's days old, he hasn't left this place, this chair, this moment.  It's inevitable, honestly, he will never leave this very second; he's trapped between the before and after.  His leaking ceiling has stopped, now just a perputual stream of water, unmoving.  His priceless, indangered bird sits in mid-leap in its cage; the feather it was losing hangs by invisible strings once called oxygen.

          He stands.  To his surprise, nothing happens, though his knees feel weak and feet feel numb.  He leave his computer screen and crackling speakers, and heads for his door.  He turns the knob and hears a pop, slightly stuck but he pulls it open to admire the thousands of swimming sea creatures in the wall of water behind it.  Water slowly creeps towards his toes, its cold.  In a panic he slams the door, only to split the wood, making leaks spray clear across to the other wall.  A hundred questions flow through his mind.  He runs to the flickering computer, shoves it off his desk .  As a cloud of sparks fly up from the floor he vanishes, the bird lands on the branch and the room fills with water.

The eyes have it,
Lie a war waged between masterful ears,
Or the breath taken after hearing horror,
Its the oceans mist on mourning faces,
And the morning breeze in humid places,
The careful hand when holding a child,
The gentle moon's caress against memories,
Its the shiver from a killers mind,
Or the chill of forgetting you're on time,
The blistering sky over a burning building,
and the crumpled jeans thrown on the floor,

But its always in the eyes of a body,
Watching the murder like a never ending film.


This is REALLY OLD.

          I raised my hands to the sky as the wind rustles through my hair.  It feels like sand through my fingers.  A glimmer of the stars catches my eye and I hear something whisper my name.  I open my mouth to ask who's there and only salt water flows out, it tasted so sweet.  Theres now an ocean at my feet, and hurricane on my chest; raging away.  I hear my name again and look up.  Theres a black butterfly staring at me; sitting on the crescent of the moon.  Feeding on the moons light it glowed illuminating the ocean below me, creating life and devastating the storm raging in my, almost calming it completely.  The little black guardian asked why I was here and I told it I hadn't figured that out yet.  She told me to push up so I did and i felt the sky push back.  She laughed hysterically and fluttered away claiming that she had given me a purpose.  I was stuck to eternally hold up the sky.

          White walls wander, sway side to side.  They haunt me in this room and its here I know I'll die.  I hide, but they're at every side, watching me grow as they grow too.  They whisper, "We see you, there, scared and alone."  It's the tone of their voices that determines the choices that i make, the people I devour and the rules I break.  I scratch my head so hard it bleeds.  A drop falls in slow motion, as shadows swarm to feed, it hits the floor and soaks into the wood.  She whispers, "Thats why we draw blood, so we'll have something to pick at later."  The ground ate us whole.

Three months later:
Then the ceiling collapsed.  Shes gone now.  To where?  Everywhere, she dissimilated into the air.  I always told her she reminded me of someone, something I once knew and throughout time I came to realize it was the her she reminded me of.  The girl she used to be, the hopeful one I fell in love with.  I'm moving way to slow now, I've lost perception of time, but I keep track of the days by who calls upon me, when.  I am the wind, and the earth is merely a martyr.  I control the tides and keep the earth spinning.  I am everything and everywhere but most importantly, always next to you.


(Refer to MICAH 7:13)

 

Again, its another start, that i know i wont finish.  like anyone read this shit anyways.  x   well, nevermind ha.
 

Theres a tall, dark man reflected in my window pane.  We talk together though we aren't the same.  He speaks few words, all carefully chosen and a horse dies, hits its side and knocks this city over.  This devil rests infront of me, asking me to tell him who I see.  The tall, dark man ofcourse.  Rest below a tree contemplating whats to gain, how many ways to ease the pain.


Its in the works.

          I awake this morning with bark growing on my chest and a hook in my side.  I turn to jump from my hundred story bed, placed miles away from nowhere, but I simply step down.  My feet meet the hardwood floor with a fine layer of tar, painted there only with the intent to send chills up my spine.  I stand and brush off the flowers growing on my arms, weeds was all they are.  The sun says good morning but I ignore it; it talks too much and seemingly only about pointless nonesense.  The earth is quicksand, constantly imploding and bubbling, recreating islands and nations one after another.  My pulse is electric.  It leaks out my fingers and flow from my mouth, into your mind; you wont survive.  When my eyes glow and fangs show, hide.  Change the channel.


not finished.   done.

          "Tell the waves to stop moving," she whispered, hope in her voice, "I want to walk on the ocean, but the waves get in my way, make them stop."  I walk to the shoreline slowly, she hides behind me, as if she's scared of what might happen.  My toes meet the edge of the glass water, the moon reflecting so brightly on it, and then all ceases.  The waves in mid-curl drop straight down and everything is calm.  The blue water trembles under my first step, but holds to my foot tightly, second foot on, and I am floating.  We walked silently for a while, her hand clasped in mine, until she said it was safe for us to stop, and so we did.  The edge of her soft, grey skirt was turning darker by the second.  She was the water, and I was trapped.  Her hands caress my face, cold and calm, the nails bitten down from anticipation, and we kiss.  She whispered a sweet 'I love you'.   A wave rolls over me, taking the air from my lungs and replacing it with the taste of salt.  I feel like I've been taken under.  With her on top of me, and the water on my back, our skin pressed tightly, touching lightly and I lose my train of thought.  So we stay, until she is taken under.
 

Dear Ocean, I love you too.  I'm sorry I ever questioned that.

"God damnit, I've lost my mind."
"No you havent, it's right there, splattered agianst that wall."
"Oh, thank you! I never would have found that if you hadn't shown me.  Now where are my keys?"

          I slide into the driver's seat, turn the key and head lights stare back at me.  I am the only one here.  The bottle in the seat next to me grows legs, arms and leans his head up.  He whispers for us to leave and we're off.  Turn after turn the road gets brighter until we're driving on a mass of plasma, tires melted but still doing a million revolations per second. 

"Hit that tree, paint it red."
"No"
"NO? Well, how about suicide? Doesn't that sound good?"
"Just shut the fuck up Jackie boy"

          The bottle shatters on the tree, flung through the windsheild.  Body mangled and strewn, I never saw it coming, too distracted by the arguement.

Theres no difference in this air and the water, make me a martyr soon.  They burn, these little shards of glass, crushed up. By whom you ask?  The massive hands of time that watch this earth and draw the line between two things. While one becomes another, pull down the curtian, expose more of her.  Her?  This sky, if i spin, i fly.  An eight legged helicopter, so high. 

*Just for people out there that have no idea whats going on:  this is for mike, a fellow octopus, who posed a writing assignment.  "write about an octopus in the desert.  so its like he is way out of his element and instead of an endless sea of water its an endless sea of sand that its never seen before"

A titan among men, he frightened them, then they tighten again; their grip that is.  Of reality, because now they see, it only pertains to what they believe it to be.  They draw their blades, trying to slay, the beast in their way but these swords might as well have been drawn in sand.  It annihilated them, with a flick of its hand they were in the sand with their swords drawn next to them.

          He took the bait, and before he knew it he was caught.  Two steel hooks in his left cheek and they pulled back to keep him there.  Trip wired by desire; he was hung up by his throat.  He had tip-toed, unknown and to the tune of tapped wires.  As the blood trickled, he remembered the nights when she would wrap her arms around is neck like this and whisper words.  Unknown to him but she was never there.  A drifter came to watch him, hanging, gagging and begging.  He drifted his way, like he always does, up to the hung man and marked a black cross on his forehead telling him that he's not real either.

          She watched the sky, hoping for a sunrise.   In the middle of a field we climbed the only tree in sight, tall and powerful, we climbed.  Pass the heart with our initials we carved almost four years ago, up to the top the touch the sky; caress the clouds.  I sit on the highest limb and she slides next to me, the air is thin here, or I am simply breathless, and I push her off.  Her neck snaps at the end of the rope and she hangs lifeless.  Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.

          Wading water and a full moon wading overhead.  Half dying but more left for dead.  My ship lays miles below me, after letting go of me I see the need.  Heartbeat skipped, finger slipped, losing grip and my thoughts eclipsed.  I sink deeper, water caressing my entire body, ice cold and taunting me of air.  Time's hands rip the flesh from me, and I watch the world change from below, ever sinking; thinking but never speaking.  Finally, I feel the sand surround my being, wrapping around and flowing through my corroded bones.  It wasn't the ocean's fault I died; my vessel couldn't handle the storm.  

          Press play, and then fast forward.  The disc rushes inside the tainted machine.  It lets out signals over the air, telling people the things I whisper when I think no one is listening.  Then, simultaneously, a billion silenced minds start working, start listening.  I try to stop the whirling disc, but the skin on my hands peel away leaving me in agony and with nothing left but bones.  I watch it trickle from between the skin, a thousand haunted faces; watching, waiting, and finally collaborating against me.  Press eject, just press the fucking button.

          Empty eye sockets watching my every move.  Skin below the skulls, they rested on a fleshy bodies; they taunted me telling my secrets that I didn't even know.  I repeat the words over and over, "You can't be real, I tied chains to your legs, pushed you off my ship and watched you sink."  I steady my head and hands and something cold slithers over my feet.  It was the dead tentacles of my mother, she too slaughtered by these three hollow eyed figures before me.  And as they approached I screamed the words louder, "Father, Uncle, Brother, get away from me. I'm sorry. Sorry, you hear me?"

Her soft grey skirt, black pull over sweater, and neon yellow undershirt make her who she is.  Radiant blonde hair always shinning magnificently in the sun as her blue-grey eyes never left mine while we talked; hours on end we talked.  The orange clay covered the bottom of our shoes as we trudged our way to comfort.  The mound of pillows, everlasting and a soft blue blanket never matching with the ambient glow of the multicolored Christmas lights that lined the walls of her room, now repainted white because of a mother’s discontent.  We danced in the deep black shadows, pale skin pressed against tan and blushing flesh; the sweat driving thoughts from our minds.  A placid pink kiss and I am off into the night, leaving her crimson neck, showing she’s mine.

          I denounce this announcement, no consent with horrible intent, I intend to defend the end as we transcend.  Wrote a letter to ocean eyes, within contained her demise, hold it tight between the lies, and remember the starfish, severed, it dies.  Lies, coincidentally, are held between teeth, be brief to defeat the world.  Or does the world defeat her?  The mass of water that caught her, and held her so tight was the fight and plight to run in the night, demons and all behind her.  They always find her and defy her, and pull at the water to unwind her.  In the end the wind will win again, as it intends to descend, we defend our right to transcend. 

          It comes from within, a sin that tends to descend and begin again.  Breathe in, they want more, a new overture about the same whore that bears the sores of a devout mind.  A design that reminds the mind to define the greatest line of divinely refined lies.  One letter twisted and gone, more on about morons: live becomes love and we were too far gone.  Excuses reduced kisses to mismatch additions, play in bliss under the moon's best wishes.

SEPT. 29, 2008

     They said that you have got a map of my insides, cut the line, I'll be fine.  Take my mouth, it ceases to speak.  Judgment Day will chant my name, I'll hear it from the thousand others; who choose not to say a thing.  One pill, two neck ties for nooses, and three halos used to seal the wounds.

I'm doomed. No, we're doomed. 
"I know, but I choose to repeat this deadly dance for the sake of things."

Your feet have yet to touch the ground, I'm running out of excuses to give Houston, they know you're not coming back.  Incinerated in midflight, we dine tonight on charred flesh and pick our teeth with splintered bones.  They tear our gums; bleeding, still feeding, we can't stop our damnation.  I'll burn with you, I know I will.  Its written behind our eyes, and in the way you sweat.

 

          I can't taste you anymore.  The mixture of sweat and flesh, such a sweet taste to be that bitter, but its all the same, I cant tell my left from my right either, they mesh into one another and I guess I'm heading straight; I hope I'm heading forward.  I still feel you though.  When I lay still at night, close my eyes and let my thinking slow just enough to let my senses wonder.  I feel the breeze from your open window drift into mine, the smell of your candles hovers around me, the glow of assorted Christmas lights seen through my closed eyelids, the feeling of your thousands of blankets and pillows wrapped around me, and the taste of wine on your lips.  Home is where the heart is.  I'm homeless.

          Against the current life seems relavent.  I reach shallow water and barnicals fall from me more every inch I grow closer.  Nubs unto legs the sand feels calming, refeshing in a new light.  I walk up the shoreline, the rising sun tearing away my fins and the last scales I had.  Reborn, this flesh feels like home.  Through the city I wander, its just awakening like me, and I find the morning nothing like the ocean, everyone here is warm.  Clothed, I walk to work, and coincidentally become another robot.

          I stand on the table to catch a glimpse of the moon through the top window.  Its orange with a tint of blue, and fading.  The worn bodies hang on the wall until the light flicks on and then they vanish.  The screaming remains.  I step from the table, to chair then floor.  The bodies down here remain, but they only stay because they want more; of something, anything.  All nameless, they haunt me, and tear off my flesh when I look away.  At long last I will sleep, but one question remains.  Who turned on the light?

          I'll place this ax between your teeth and end this speech in utter defeat.  Crows from your eyes, and unearthly demise explode from your skull like a body's flies.  Realize: I deny what you imply, you sway side to side and implode with revolations you try to hide.  I hate you, I betray you and destroy to create you; I will tear the air from your lungs, just to shake you.  You fell through.  What could I do, I watched the ocean forlorn and take you.  While the sky blew, these waves threw you onto the rocks to incinerate you.  Our fate is slew, its shapes withdrew and now the vision I had of you, is a clearer and more morbid truth.

          I become pathetic, there I've said it.  Veins collapse with a new synapsis of my mind, it becomes divine but only with time.  A chime and I'm gone again, with sin we defend our slurs, all words unheard.  Arteries erupt, a flood of blood to my brain, out my eyes.  I compile a smoke filled smile, for as long as this lasts.  The last lasted until I contracted this new disease.  A new way to ease, to please to corrupt these electormagnetic seas.  Codependent, letters mix together, less words the better they mesh in weather unknown to you in a daze, you dont see the sky anyways.  A maze, I am in amazement.  What did a maze mean?  I stay serene but I have become pathetic, there I said it.

the eight.

I.
Dead crows lay, wasting away, and wanting more, forever to stay.  Hollow eyes; realize real lies of real eyes watching sympathetic skies.  Obvious to oblivion it's oblivious inside of him, but yet again where did he begin?  Claim the middle, a little forgetful, clearly memories of melodies that morphing into remedies creating calamities.   Smoke fills the air, walls stare, unclear of what's near, and what's actually here.  Glasses make masses see posters of past years of masterful disaster, we rewind the reaction.  The wire projects from the bird's neck, regret, and not knowing what to get and forget.  We're terrorists under pressure, to measure the pleasure of destroying other's treasure of living forever. 

II.
Vanity isn't a description, his prescription for redemption a missing addition.  Coincide to collide, come back to earth, and divide inside.  Mind games of masters were misplaced disasters of fanatical monsters that haunt her.  Your dreamland stays sand through hands, missing fingers, unplanned.  Sink in clay, go back to yesterday, skin the sun, and wipe the moon away.  Head trip, re grip, one more, and feet slip.  Lungs of smoke, hit the toke, it's laced with something; sorry, bad joke.

III.
She stumbles in and stumbles down.  Misses her footing and hits the ground.  He scribbles his words and scrambles her mind, not exactly sure whose faces he's wearing this time.  His isle stands in the middle of a baron concrete home, she remains in the painting to forever be alone.  The walls are splattered and tattered, stripped and battered, his attack on the faithful being all that mattered.  Shadowy hands projects his life, these walls his way out.  One hand on top to braces himself he climbs inside his master piece and smiles until the night.

IV.
This place is neglected, unholy but resurrected.  We've only taken small steps in this ill-fated experiment; experience the nuisance, free to fight this ignorance.  Living trendy with apathy, misery is not a memory of unusual empathy with an inescapable indignity.  We're an oddity, national kamikaze, hear me and live lyrically.  We seem to be a lean, mean war machine, counting screams from slaughtered dreams; not unusual but it's a remedy, a melody to you and me.   Recognize the vandalized, and help them to reconcile with a new smile; taught to live and love a while.  We need to stand in place and face through the storm, hold someone's hand and push against the norm.  What makes us strong is not moving along but looking up and proving them wrong.

V.
White out the night now, and wipe away the moon.  It's black out, we're cracked out and pushing towards our doom.  These drugs strain these stressed veins while truth is never sane.  The floor slips the ink drips from loose lips that sink ships.  So we meet this, defeat this in the dark, but a pen's kiss will leave a mark.  The sword of a pen lashes at skin, and pulls out sins; with a past that breathes again, we can see again.  Meet the man with a steady hand, he sinks in sand when you question him, devastate him with nuclear opinions.  He's prototypical, analytical, metaphysical, and truly unforgettable.   Keep him in your memory, though he lives in misery; his thoughts and dreams they live in me.  But now its all the same, his luxury is but a game though I can never remember his name.

VI.
If we realign the perfect day, could we realize the perfect line within a perfect frame; same game with a new name.  This collaboration of allegations destroys our nation with anticipation.  God speed us to save this place, a race to chase the ones who brace their hearts; a bullet dodged still leaves a mark.  Shark out of water, he could have stopped her, lust deterred with thoughts confirmed.  Reassured, he's misinformed, reformed, and destroyed.  Annoyed, he's void of android minds, simple by design but they widen fine lines.  Realign this perfected day, sobriety: wasted away, I can see my dreams today but I can't seem to feed the change.

VII.
This maniacal child breathes in with an eyeful, eating mechanical animals that fill plates for cannibals.  With light to my right and death to my left, I take a step forward and fall towards the back.   Towers devour the lesser of hours to create conundrums that power the shower, the rain of the vain, the pain for beauty, and ending up nudity on your TV.   Psychos makes eyes glow, and lets go from the get go.  But I digress, confess and suggest the test that kills the best.  Reinvent history; keep the mystery hold the blasphemy, now adhere to me.  Then coincidentally begin to be what you said you'd eventually free.  

VIII.
Blind minds are left behind to unwind and find time to see divine signs.  From the skies we hear cries of early demise of blind eyes.  Small sighs, false lies, and monstrosities realize the fly's guide the dead as towers arise.  Plan B: see the sea before the ground takes me, believe and be what naturally, has nothing to do with me, and coincidentally become the beast to uproot the youth and spread truth to loot the mind as they stare at the road signs.

 

          
          He never realized the ground was more beautiful than the sky.  Red now, for some unknown reason, different people took it in different ways.  He thinks its beautiful, he should because he's been staring at it for a while now, through the broken stained glass window.  He hated this cathedral, the Priest's vices slithered in the shadow of it, sharpening their teeth in the backs of the congregation.  They had grown to a form which the Priest could not control, and upon taking the red sky as a sign from God, he went on a killing spree.
          But now he crawls, slowly at first, out from under the pew.  Carefully placing a bloody hand on the fine wood pew, only to lose grasp and fall back on the floor.  He flirts with the air for a moment, debating on wether or not to take his next breath.  He does and it shocks him at how smooth and cold the air feels sliding down his throat.  His hand wonders back to the bloodsplattered arm rest and carefully pulls himself up onto the rough leather seat.  Propping himself up he looks at the alter, a mangled body laid carelessly over it.  "How holy is that water really?" He thought to himself.  As he watched the blood drip from his mouth as his body lays so disheaveled over the alter, he raises his transparent hands and prays to God to forgive the priest for what he had done. 
 

The reflection in the puddle reveals things I had at one time cherished.  The miscellaneous drops creating faults on my face, then instantly nourishing my mask back to being vain.  It’s the twenty first, my anniversary of not being good enough.  The diamonds in the nights sky watching me intently as I remember how she loved walking in horrible weather.  She wanders by with the new Mr. Me and I hope to God the puddles take her last breath.

           Writing words of wonder, he stumbles through the door.  With compassion and admiration he pretends parts of the paper are listening.  Words of love spill from his pen, covering the paper, start over and again.  While brilliant ballads can swoon a heart he knows he needs so much more.  With a stereo and his paper he heads to her house.  Throwing words at her window to make her love him, he notices the light stays off; she’s not home.

*I plan on making this a longer story.