Post #3

Hallelujah, I'm cured.
The Holy Hour has completed its circle once more
And I am cleansed.
Or something.

Today is moving day for me, bits of my life are falling off shelves I haven't tidied in five years.

A Chilling Desire to Please

The whirlwind crashed my slumber - she looked like a ghost in the window, as she screamed, her throat tore;
"They've gone," she cried, "My babies...my boys!"
And she rapped the glass until it shattered.

Inside her head became a landslide, her fingers, her nails ripped at the walls, and I became frozen - too frozen to pick up the phone and call for help. No senses were at hand - vocal chords, statuette, spinning cruelly on a wooden base, echoing her cries.

It felt like murder - I could see it in her eyes while she clung to me. Strangely, I couldn't remain her solace. I was possessed to invade, to collapse my brain and bring them home to her - those lost brothers - those boys.

Unimaginable strength is born from silence, wrenched from burning pains in the pit of the heart. I forgot that i called them 'Sweetness', looked on them as mine - but they were not mine - their fingers, their eyes - they belonged to her. What is borrowed remains unowned. A borrowed bond.

Could they have once been so small tthat i had cradled them until the wails subsided? Yesterday....yesterday. And today, I wake the soliders, the marching warriors, to find them..to trek and trail and bring them home to her - she would not be without them. Her babies.
Her boys.

Post #2

And anyway, I still edit my texts a year later, I no longer write articles because I've no one to inform anymore, and I don't like anything at all. Anything. Let me see those game faces.

All of You Against Me

We'll hide together, and live like thorns
A chorus of tuneless tears, tucked beneath the shallow trauma
Wasting in the haystack - fucking in the backroom
Digging out my own tomb
and gown
Your fingernails, act shrouded desire,
Starved inside my own womb

When the blackout comes, and oh,
She comes,
And goes
as she pleases,
And leaves
as she pleases
And takes all of me, in her hands,
Prickled pines and trickled sands,
A worthless clasp of irony
To trace a pattern down inside me

Play host;
Dripping through the daybreak
Drag me up from the storm
The houses have fallen,
Faces, worn
But we'll give it our all
And all of you, against me
The cider press,
Buttons, undressed
All of you
Up against me

Post #1:

Aggro. Its a killer.

Blanks


You don't make much sense
When I listen,
Hence I no longer listen at all.

Just built blockades
Hardened layer upon layer of tissue around your
Face...eyes...nose...
There's a structureless mass in place of your
Face...eyes...nose
There are lips moving like the clamping pistons of a cavern
There are mouths silent, distraught
There are words that draw blanks,
Because they are made without thought.

Gouged pretty rhymes, petty;
Sublime with unreason
Somethings gnawing...gnashing
Something is chewing our tender laughter
Tentative repetition
Hence I no longer listen at all
Hence I no longer listen at all
Hence I no longer listen at all