Rubix Cube

Drops of crimson in the snow, you truly are something else.
Our hearts beat in an all too similar fashion, but you couldn’t be more different.
The pains of this strange existence clench at your insides.
Pain that’s anything but welcome.
You’re something differently entirely.
Beneath skin and bone, you’re the
monster that’s plagued myths and stories for centuries.
The monster that will give meaning and purpose to my own miserable existence.
Sever ties with your master, and we’ll be together forever.
Punish those I could not, and we’ll be together forever.
You finished the Rubix Cube, you’re much more brilliant than I.
You’ve lived long enough to be.
I let the right one in.

© Copyright June 2011

Far Too Deep

Simple truths in the clever lies, don’t fall too far.
Nothing short of grand.
The water is only so deep,
watching the veil fall away.
Silence in itself.
Free in all my flaws, caged in all your fears.
Kill time that’s prime for the hanging.
Murder your soul with cinnamon and cyanide.
Eyes made out of glass, heart made out of stone.
How can you see when everything is just a reflection?
Day after day, multi-colored mirrors that couldn’t be more blue.
Heart never bursts, eyes never wander.
Keep on sipping from your cup of wish and hope.
Never rise to the occasion.
Your tongue is made out of paper.
Just like your eyes, never being put to their proper use.
Always something better, always something destructive.
How can you live when your heart does not beat?
How can you taste when your tongue is not your own?
On to the next available pulpit, it’s never enough for you.
How can you see when your eyes are made of glass?
Exactly, you can’t.

© Copyright June 2011

Hazel

Once I roamed around this Earth, alone with the fear of falling.
I existed amongst the living as a solitary ghost, alone, depressed and crawling.
The fear was such a little fear,
but still had room for decay.
I knew fondly of this thing called love, but knew it never would be mine, my problems never at bay.
Upon the shining bust of confidence, I found you at my door.
I’d never seen someone so close to a mirror image, your eyes I could not ignore.
Months and months spent so dear, sharing thoughts of the in-between and nothing up above.
I now know this feeling, this fear of falling…
I’ve found that thing called love.

© Copyright June 2011

Casual Monster

I want to tear you the fuck apart.
Mangle and destroy your insides,
sifting through your broken ribs,
face deep in your blood.
I’m at a loss for words, as to how you ended up a mutilated and sacred mess upon my apartment floor.
It’s just the type of person I am.
One minute you were speaking freely, the next you were struggling to stay conscious, begging for your life.
My polished hardwood shines with the thick substance of blood and loathing, I fucking hate the person you’ve become.
Who knew the evening would end like this?
I foresaw this turn of events the moment I looked into your eyes.
I’ve hacked away every piece of skin, the very fibers of your existence, warm and fresh.
Your petty insides desperately strewn amongst your decapitated corpse, I chose right for the killing.
I struggle for a moment to keep down parts of the flesh and meat I’ve ingested.
The bottle of wine on the counter next to what’s left of your head probably isn’t helping, my own head pounds.
I bathe in the light of my coming clarity, this hunger will never be tamed.
Like my hate for you and everyone around me, it claws at my cavity,
waiting to be let out of its confines.
A skeleton cage that beats quicker still, my heart pumps hard, but I feel no emotion.
I have no conscience, cannot comprehend the human connections I fake so goddamn well.
I was damned from the beginning,
and you were dead the minute you said hello.
I sit in my solitude, fashioning your blood as wine.
Heated and wild, a deadly combination of blood lust and aesthetic beauty.
I would give anything to relive these sacrifices as I rot in Hell,
one right after the other.
I want to tear you the fuck apart.
I already have, it’s the only thing I’m good at anymore.

© Copyright June 2011

Escape

Sleep is deliberate and shallow.
I awaken only to find that my dreams and nightmares reflect my reality.
Unsafe and strange.
I’m in love with the darker side of life, the only thing I’ve ever known.
I’m out of the ordinary, nothing at all like you.
The gates of Hell will open up for me.

© Copyright June 2011

Pity

Your final thoughts, your final words.
Oh how I wish I knew them.
Instead they were tragically playing out in your mind,
like a vibrant montage of your grounded memories.
Just behind your empty blue eyes they race, faster than a hellbent bullet train.
I will never know them, never possess the knowledge to understand.
I’m not even sure if that’s really what your eye color was, nothing about your flesh and bone existence seems real anymore.
From your Metallica and AC/DC, to your perfect school image,
everything is a fictional charade.
Pieces and parts colliding together to form something human and breathing.
Did you feel any pain as you strung yourself up, waiting for your feet to touch the ground,
fully aware that you never will?
Was it painless or did you run into complications?
Not the swiftest of exists sometimes, I could only imagine.
You chose a noose, while others might have branded a gun or glass.
I written about you once and cried over you twice, a clever understatement I hope you know.
I have no pity for you, only sadness and collected fits of rage.
There was help somewhere out there, you went by other means.
I only hope one day we can walk where the stills and screenshots of our lives are in slow motion.
Relive those moments and make our own destiny.
For you are not in any concept of Heaven nor that of Hell, there is no such place.
You’re alive forevermore in the hearts that still beat strong.

© Copyright June  2011

Mistaken

Collapse in and out of the dredges that you so righteously explore.
Experience all feelings, all nerves falter, leaving a numbing aftershock of solitude and regret.
The broken piece of glass is your one and only vice, never managing to break the skin no matter how hard you try.
Scratches that will scab and heal over time, but they’re nothing compared to the horrors you witness in your nightmares.
Nightmares that inflict loneliness and an ever-lasting gloom into your reality, when will the lines blur?
Fools might say that you turn to those shards of glass as a well-thought out cry for attention, some kind of bullshit trend.
You mutilate and scar not for the recognition and gossip of your peers, but because it’s the only thing that’s real anymore.
Pain took the place of any genuine feeling, any conscious thought.
Your scars eventually heal,
leaving no evidence that they were ever there.
You know better.
They will forever be etched in the fictional blackboard of your brain,
burned deeper and deeper.
Accept what cannot change, rise above the ashes of your own wreckage.

© Copyright June 2011

Smoke

Grayish-white smoke flows freely into the desperately dark night sky.
The perfect time to spill my heart,
my guts already exposed themselves neatly on stone.
Still fresh and warm, blood marking where it will forever stain.
I inhale the silent beauty that could be the literal end of me, filling my lungs with the sweetness of mint and forbidden sin.
We’ll be sinners to the end, you and I.
I proceed to take another hit and slowly exhale, watching the phantom climb somewhere above, only to disappear.
This night will end with a weak confession and an even weaker body.

© Copyright June 2011

Ghost

Push the needle into the blue vessel that just so happens to be my vein.
Devil knows I have none left, the rest imploded inside themselves long ago.
Just a single second of pain, sharp yet numbing.
Rushing through my hollow muscle, the bittersweet sting of the saline drip.
Prime for the cutting, all shame and sin above and below knows I’m good and ready for it.
Fish the paper-thin needle through the bottom of my spine, my tourniquet relieving the pain of the inevitable incision.
My mind becomes fuzzy, swirling in a tidal wave of sudden laughter and euphoria.
I mutter one last meaningless piece of imagery before my head hits the pillow.
My six and a half hour slumber frees me from the horror going on inside.
Removed are the wretched guts that once plagued me with its sadistic tugging, binding my intestines ever so tightly to a devious rollercoaster.
Attached back together are my guts that still have some meaning, fixed is the horrid scar that once graced the blank space above my belly button.
I awake, thick drowsiness still enveloping me, incision swelling and smoldering.
My anchor to a painless salvation is shining bright green, a single movement connects with the needle still expertly executed in my spine.
Warmth of the greatest kind circulates throughout my being, the ravaged meat inside wrapped in an amber embrace.
For how long?
I’ll find out when this painkiller fades to nothing, bringing back the still fresh agony.
My newly recognized stitches turn me into a monster with temporary means, my recovery turns me into a ghost.

© Copyright June 2011

A Wish Before Dying

The ocean breeze muddles with the silent thoughts of the father,
doubting and pious.
We waste away ever so slowly, walking beyond the fabric of time.
Clocks stop abruptly and we become the monsters they’ve always feared.
The fairy tales of rainbows, lollipop kisses and gumdrop dreams are nothing.
What is this world made of?
Cast out are thoughts of such foolish things, replaced by the filth and disgust I’ve only seen in my dreams.
The fear of drowning, the blackened liquid filling my lungs
to the point of catastrophic explosion.
This fear, I trust, is what keeps me hanging onto the thread I still have left.
This substance will be my downfall, my second greatest effort at a peaceful descension.
Bury me alive and blow away my swollen ashes into the sea, stars forevermore across the edging dawn.
Freedom.

© Copyright June 2011