predicted

 sorrow is the shift, back and forth

of a tidal wave returning at the bay,

that frost chill that peaks and slides

in the open winter season unrivalled,

the companionship a thunder

erupting like a lovers name 

a rune, a pillar in shambles

the backseat that is rejected

shotgun, loaded and imported

'here's to better days

champagne on the house

all around everyone do gather

do spread about to the party'

had a hell of a round

and the bell has yet to call it a stop

a month a year a turn to do wrong

count blessings like I see naked stars

blossoming as innocents burns

incent incense: elated prayers

if the predator has taken your scent

and developed a known attraction

no hunger can be ever faded and that just is not complicated

bound to be untold fortunes buried under the pretense of talking to a friend

what about the here, the now and what then? 

the alarm bells are disconnected atop the frame crocked dimes

spare a chance oh guardian angel to those waiting to die

let them peek, a glimpse

to what horrors shan't this curse drive us

smile and count stars 

plain to see, I got the message

did not took it to heart

heed the calling accustom 

Trust: Twice Rejected Undoes a Saint Trials. In that I trust so I fear.

 thinking to myself 

''what a blow out,

make a scene, frostbite jackpot:

words transited, bespoken

a trait of golden glee, artificial

the good Life is what is expected 

at Christmas times, cordially invited by

hold on now, the good lord son so wishes''

my ol' family doctor is a friend, a friend indeed

a borrowed uncle of the family, as one notices

should one care, his son and daughter cousins

a bound binding as time travels near the gravity pull

weakens, as the continents diverge the tarnation we call

home beacons satisfaction in pretense that one requires

a solution that suddenly disappeared as if their problem

was a shared lottery pot and their fate my own.

my old uncle is a doctor, convenient and wise in equal proportions

his generosity and kindness is contagious 

but my frail eloquent appeal is overrated, 

shit that I overplayed it 

from cloud nine I fall down

letdown by fancy I had taken upon

in a false step I took note of a weight

that without caution simply was not there

'trust me, I will be there when you need me, believe in me' 

I had forgotten why I broke every mirror I wielded

I have remembered why the comedown holds a grudge 

in the come around we lookout and yet we do not see

that I and my Ego will not be Safe Here.  

Trust: Twice Rejected Undoes a Saint Trials. 

In that I trust 

so I fear. my heart palpitates

my custom is mocked

my best practices at blame

for shame shade casts a wider shadow

all the way my hand caught at the swing

solace in the fact remake is as easy

as going away. 

if the sun induces disorder your silence is an order to die trying:

one I have forgotten.  

if one can count seconds, heartbeats and deception

once detected deep in the surface of one's soul, 

to one each another least he be left alone

warm and cosy by the fire during winter

can one count exceptions?

I am a tree

I breath through roots

my torso bares fruit

my leaves feed masses

my branches shelters those musings at ease

musicians and lovers alike, I nest they here

where the Life cycle is on it's merry way

do wave an hello on your way to believe it?

the chambers of my veins a house

to hallow vanity creeping in

a fault in the divine design, all my feelings acute

to bursts of melody, agitated for the walls are dim,

curvy and cold to the touch: caffeine occupies the throne

bliss got me thinking I am my worse enemy; 

I heard it somewhere before, 'I am a tree' 

and from there came symphony 

a compromising melody:

''Do come visit me

sit under my lover's chiseled breast

and please,

do sing me a fairytale as I (we have poisoned that well)

a nesting shelter provide, 

season dependent, 

to all species kind

Proving one exchanges rumor, gossip and talk of the world

seeing you are passing by and I

chose not to uproot and leave

the worm would miss me, the birds would need me, the humans would remember me by

that very thought will suffice.''

I am a tree

from a speck of dirt, water and seed

we are a desk, a bed, a wardrobe and a walking stick

as gods they judge and decimate but we accommodate

we are a home

a beam of hope, a sturdy boat, an uncompromising forest. 

we are books a plenty, we are fuel for the fire

we are the coal that elevates the human race

the fences that now infest the very fields that feed the masses

we are still very much needed and yet no cry is heard in the wind.

the fig tree in my back garden was a family friend, you see

joining in at the Play, our mother once said Angie was just that,

a distant, reserved relative of sorts: those quirky and silent ones

deemed felt in made believe, in a howl commendable dance pledge to the breeze

dances at midnight mid hurricane at the heart of summer in a crescent, obviously

misunderstood and yet firm and forgiving, of my naivety and gaiety 

robust in face of my torment and selfish recourse of take, take, take

Angie's was besieged, defaced and taken away in a single day

relish the contrast in mourning for want it makes the good times

cruel if not more vivid, the rain soon followed as I knew it should.

From the cinder ashes a seed to which a speck of water brought new life

on that Autumn day 20 years and a day ago I made a promise I intend to keep

truer than my prior arrangement ever fleeting of farewells and hellos

to hang in a tread and common souls from Levi's arms and bound anew

to keep the cycle activated my own new family and little ones by default

should too be introduced to an old family friend, back Home.

My bad hand rubs the top of my head

the god's given one limps at the side

lazy by birth, unskilled by trade, silent in defiance.

the ceilling of knowledge of leaking

which pronoun proposes a more preposterous proposition 

than to wear a helmet does good in keeping harm at bay

which restless, wrestles a jolt at my presence

stroke down at my centre, an epitome of gull 

strangler of peace, the blood price on minor print

a secret and life lesson well kept it seems for fools

wear crowns and wage war to too sustain the charade

of pain for security, in safety on the believe the contrary be folly

misguided, in fact, tyrannical and perhaps maniacal even. 

why practise a common tongue if signals will do

why risk missing a target if tangents will do

we do not share the same tastes, 

I love coffee she sells tea. 

karma police has thought raided my temple,

my dignity and my spirit unchained and given new identity

on my way to believing I am entirely the wrong pale shade of crazy

ashamed they are out there hiding from me, reborn, led to lands unknown

to start fresh is an opportunity given enough time

said learning curve can too be brief in a shallow peak

if not breached, snapped in half in remorse.

feet cold, hands wet, hair tight and chest looped in a twist

mixed messages are a crucible of meeting crossroads playing slots. 

needing the jurisdiction of supervision

revisited by proper architects 

this temple is on the verge of collapse;

the rebuild in limbo, a prolapse a waste of time

articles converge: 'It is going forward' // 'Changes are being considered' // 

'Project been abandoned indefinitely seeing the boss man fled with the foreman's daughter to Brazil' 

there is a man

by the window

fixing a light

on the building

opposite mine

by the third floor

or is it the second 

by the count, however

they do things differently

in America where all is

well, holy Mecca of self-made

sharpen teeth up takers church

goers of dreams reality a plenty

gold replaces blood as a living commodity

and diamonds are cheap

pray forgive

my misconception

trickery ill-devised

 It is Africa

I intended to allude to

a cursed box

flawed piece of earth

where children mine

hard grafters of hardy stock

drifters, family breadwinners

angels in the making

born to die granted

but forced to the gates sooner at no added cost

get these particulars which names

minerals of necessity

fragments of misconduct

that one cannot replicate if not told

informed about the new strange ways

that the World rules itself sideways

so that the man

which so soon and efficiently

swapped these office lights

across the road

mission accomplished

my object of admiration

fled the scene!

a parting gift,

the now working office lights

Christmas lights in fact

are left on

on a cold morning

clear November heights

yellow bashes yellow

on the building, by the window, opposite mine.

these are the sort of things I come up with

when I sit by a clear cold November day

without a shade or clouds to distract 

a buzz in the curve beneath my existential

empiric soul, I want to own it all for myself

to abuse, shove along and fall in love

may tragedy and filth surge all at once

wash all over me just to feel how it feels

I bet I wouldn't do it so (I confess I did poison the well)

I might just forget that's all that I want

all of someone for myself

I write it to Santa but never ship it

never sent

never even left my lips

kept it all to myself: start to finish.

go away 

there, I said it

 more than an afterthought

certain that I don't regret it, holy spirit

from distress we cannot escape

roped in to tremble along the walls 

of our inner shell far beneath the heart

if your voice is the addition I cannot divide

what I cannot fathom to begin to understand

the stomach butterflies are long dead

as the ash nibbles at my ankles

I sink to my knees

for one without crossroads

has to brave the unbeaten green pasture

an unforgiving path or so I perceive

to stand not a stance against chance 

for change is a peel of the wound far too soon

when, why, where, what:

transcended touch?

the transaction was interrupted, a defect causes a return

getting addicted to a foul mood induces rage

coming along for the bumpy ride

I don't think I am crazy,

rather, I pray I am immortal

invincible and condemned

I dream of a state of despair

goddammed to mob the floor in chains

it satisfies to put oneself down

along for the bumpy ride.

waking up to the thought of violence making it to second base.

 cold allies with chill beacons of winter 

said winter flirts with November mid Fall

Mondays are superior by human design

for what matters you see

is not the name but the timing

order and misery of being dead first

a solemn freaky weekly occasion of fucking it up

to norm, a mourn stare moan and sigh

expel expendable little breath at will

can one pour on draft to match the steady rain?

do rein in your misery dear

no booze or drugs for me either,

I prefer my sufferings raw

a sobering kept on check and on tap

the sirens contradict my rights

obscured by bleak binds 

pins, needles and dirty nails curve my spine

scratch my gums, untried tasteful mental decline

animals in disarray breakout of their cage at night

to party alongside me. 

so I dream it vividly

so I deem it right.

a trip out not a ladder nor a scale

less of a bright slide or a trampoline that's wet

a bridge awaits without reproach when it is dark outside

for one to be careless and awake caring perhaps

a little less, for to forgo fate is to deny

that if one cannot save oneself and wish to burn,

others too cannot save them.

the heat of tension is getting away

the beat of clocking days has taken the bow

of conflict we know little for spoken words are a vine

dancing at ease by the river door: we listen, taken at the arm

at length we look afar and wide, never, at one another

eating crumbs bespoken, quietly, everyday feels exactly that

no, it was not my comprehension I hiss 

but who has ever asked for my permission? 

a golden chance has flown out of bounds

crashing at the barrier of my fringed reasoning

kept in chains, never far away

it is not that I do not wish to speak

I find myself contradicted for I have nothing left to say:

"No way divides the victim (It rips away)

I didn't ask for your permission (We connect with something anyway)"

 

guardian angel

 is it a crime to conceal a cry in a whisper 

to recognize a ghost as oneself in angel dust

silence has killed the messenger at gunpoint

by the door, a bloody alleyway of distant affairs

where maggots crawl undetected in alarming signs

"I done it, I done it, it was me", said no One.

Not one living soul: remainders, simple math in fact

my confession is a defection that courts my beloved's skirt

or so I hang on, dragging on an empty coffin that grins bored shitless

guts ran dry, a foul mood kills the Sun with one eye on my guardian angel

the mere sight a branding revitalized transfixed, running anew the chilling verse

as eyesight interconnect the butterflies take flight as my whisper embraces death

I appreciate it is not for want of rescuing the need to behold your soul

but a lonely hunger that compels me to march towards my last breath

and the firm believe I might not sustain another blow might the bells not play 

so clear? a chant so fluent the fingers alone could match their lovely echoes

venom frothing from pores, I can already tell the reaction

my coffee, my obsession, my taste decays as the zooming in intensifies

we can afford to get like this every year, to rediscover we are on our fucking own

it is when the blade dulls and the breath shortens that they return for the twin wing

for I too am extremely humble and honest in equal scale, the flaws polished by the rain

I bargain a great discount at large, chop me up and eat my Heart

just nibble slowly at my Humanity for in empathy there is no turning back,

face expressions blurring used to cause me a mighty fright, 

petrified that I could not differ

Vampire from

 -turned backs

insignificant when silence and sound are no longer in the room

-mangled heart

"did you like it? I think I like you."

odd be that rain, to me, is a sensorial time machine

rude as fuck because it does not ask for permission

since my guardian angel has died.

seeing we feel this way

 biting frost licks our chops in waves

bittersweet poison refreshing a state of paralysis

need to make a call now: 'may I speak with God?'

soaked anyway, burning at the crux of this irony

would have been ashen, shortcomings

trust me for it has happened before,

no?

seeing we feel this way, pushed against the ropes

looking instead of listening, coping instead of asking

'how you been, where you heading looking so damm lonely?'

shaken to the core but never showin', sister I do not understand

how those words can break a full-fletch man down

is it hubris my undoing, is it trust in the process, was time my mortal enemy?

has the hour been? did I miss the current? am I under a fucking spell which will not bend

to my requests, no tutorial nor guidance in what is sudden and surely not my darkest hour

for dusk is solemn in fairness and sold short, 

coal for riches, gold for the hungry and the poor:

is dignity overrated in this bright new world of screens, fake smiles and selfies?

is a truer word side by touch for warmth exchange a caress not fueled by instinct

anymore necessarily than an algorism dysfunction can decode what's clouding our purpose

to define how to best display disaffections, I refuse to acknowledge 

where we are heading, what is a man to machine

if this be the shore that we came upon.

making sense - communication

 if i had a time machine

i would glimpse at the unknown

forward into what comes after what is beautiful

10 years from now to the date 

on this very space and cry out

a jerk reflection of my contrary surprise

that not even the stale air has taken token note of it's duty to be recycled and given way to the new.

If, I had a time machine

for a second time, having learnt in strides

I would leapfrog to my childhood

venture forth with ample enthusiasm,

eager to correct what's defected and possibly save the world!

Failing that, possibly immediately too to adjust, accommodate and what else? 

Ah pray tell, to live freely looking up and outwards, caged deliberately

certain of my prize encased in silly pink lensed pride.

IF I HAD A TIME MACHINE

FOR A FINAL TIME, I WOULD PONDER

PROBLE, HESITATE AND MEDITATE

LOSING THE PLOT, DIVORCE THE DISCOURSE IN MY HEAD

THE ARCHITECT OF MY MIND WANTS ME DEAD

SLEEP ON THE ISSUE AND VIRTUE OF THIS CHANCED CONNONDRUM

AN OCEAN TO OBSERVE IN THIS REALM OF LIVING HISTORY NOW UNLOCKED

CONFRONT THE OUTCOME OF MY SHORTCOMINGS, THE CLOSED CALLS TOO

SLAP MY BAD KNEE, SUCK IN THE SWEETER AIR AND TURN THE HANDLE

FIRST TO THE END OF ALL THINGS SO AS TO CONFIRM

ALL THAT STARTS RUNS ITS LENGTH AND SO IMMEDIATELY BOLT

TO THE VERY START, JOIN AND BEHOLD THE MAKING OF THE STARS

My conscious is my time machine: bless

it clocks memories and projections unrivalled

fantasy and quirks a plenty both awake

aware and underneath, not bad for angel dust

once one pulls the pin. 

_________________________________________________________________________________

if my hands were a lighthouse,

a beacon of hope to those adrift

in transit on flow and yet - 

out of pace/ out of line/ out of time

desynched off the mainframe, therefore,

an anomaly oh malady

pray tell me doctor 

what be wrong with me

my eyes (are the wrong) wear the wrong lenses

my ears are so hairy ol' folk swear it is the stuff of legends

sticks for limps, I fear it be the pirate life for me!

Should be wind not take me a sneeze surely might,

soon to be bald out of fright

my skin is sore, my ego is shot, all hope is lost and drown at sea

mine mine mine mine mine mine mine

anxious, my head is too tall

my back is crooked, it rolls sideways and refuses to spring up

my face is rusty, lumps and bumps at crossroads: do mind the potholes

my internal organs be cogs and gears out for service

no amount of shiny oil or tender care or dreamy rest

can repair this open chest

if my hands were a lighthouse I must confess

it could not be any good

of any help for those meant to see

for this holes I exchanged for eyes are the prize those obsessed contemplate in order to connect. 

 as the season change and the years drip down

sympathy dries, it too exhausted by tempting draught

of coming undone, to tear up and jerk off virtue

in thought alone, perhaps not quite all there

nerve wrecking to make that good from effort

devoted to intent and meant to be had at sunrise

in steady course, make no haste with a merry belly

fulfilled and in control, no space for sadness and unrest

abundant appears to be a dying breed

my hands betrays me

my lips conceal poorly

what my eyes perceived so far

as far as it could it caved in

carved in hell with bespoken truth

so-and-so anew the cycle repeats

the hunger persists for it cannot ever escape

I believe tragedy cannot be extinguished 

for the lessons are not truly ours to be taken apart

this flame a beacon for future generations to dismember

from a distance when solid history has taken root

and peace forcedly stricken a weightless state

or so I hope.

post-ecstacy clarity  is a knock-off

a fairytale meant to hypnotize the enemy

the ultimate act of mercy breaching the love lockdown

shatter chains of control, loose the soul, system overload:

streamline towards the good life before it defaults to going wrong

believe me, I seen it before, as heaven be wide (do you hear bells?)

and hell be inviting at every turn, like a lovers embrace recalls

the promise of sweet cake after heartbreak, disguising the mistakes

may the tooth come unstuck, a vice to linger and serenate to a ballad

contradict to physics, due time to journey further and afar from home

believe me, I seen it before, like a dog whose owner hasn't returned

drown at the lake, floating by the bay and that's as far as they cared to explain.

Life is fleeting despite bodily dance rituals, the hurt and needs a hunger

that lonesome souls seldom fulfill, bottled up suppressed like rage

gear to my ignition a flame that eats at my remote control

like a puppet set in motion, the script a bore (I should have known)

nostalgia is a stone chained at the ankles that trembles tantrum tears

sinking resentment that tilts at the back of the throat 

piling in, croak voice advocating change

and yet people do not change

not at the fundamentals

not at the core

not your hope

not me honestly

somehow we did not get through the tougher days

and on the better days I came to accept that's okay

the secret lays in hiding from the red mist

to obscure it's dark power

 if the eyes are the gatekeepers of the soul

they make for a sorry state of affairs

too transparent and tight lipped,

a treasure afloat that starve with reckless abandon

the heartbeat a raceless faceless laceless puppy

adorable at times but fundamentally an idiot

energetic, fueled by instinct alone and a stubborn beggar

pride cannot contest charity, it is a slow drip carved within

get out of my head I beg but rest assure the scars I mark myself.

the pot of gold is foolproof and I take issue

okay, maybe, you have taken the best of me

stripped of my dignity, disengaged and disenchanted

Life's script, tales, twists and spin-offs (a riddle)

my palms are peeling and somehow that makes me less lonely

sandbagging instead of developing better happier habits

feeding an hallow mood, picking crumps for a dream coma

feeling heavier despite good company for a change

 the sand clock stood no ground against the moon tide

a couch made of stone would have prevailed

the soul pull is remorseless, look at the carnage ahead

in a land where those willing do not fight for themselves

laboring away, slaves of a currency that poisons the land

they die but not to be confused with a sacrifice worth of prose

humanity greatest achievement is mercy, compassion and love

feeble suffocating weighted decisions that poison indisposed character 

the divine dice at birth came short and so bastards must act evil

I cannot believe it: I bite my tongue in anger and bleed

fathers past, some have it tough indeed, to throw the towel? be dammed

probable cause, just in the eye of faith behold and truth be told

I grow impatient of stomping the ground, powerless to connect

the blessed water cannot contain the taint of self-doubt

the poisonous chant is corrupted, the tune stuck on repeat

no guilty man ever confessed to a crime saved the objection being he is sick

egotistic and vain, toxic in both pulse and décor towards life (including his own)

why must gore and horror entice the mind, some fear the depths whilst others obsess

a rather bad romance, an enticing masquerade telling tall tales of wants and sacrifice (PS: everyone dies in the end for dramatic effect)

a lessons learnt in the hallways of visions, flashes and bloodbaths of what had to be (hostile hospitality)

must we do as we are shown? to decay in disarray as the gods watch over us in masturbatory curiosity

to ever rebel child a whip to which the vessel of pain can transmutation doubt into bought respect

to conceal sentiment trapped in a grin that cages the understanding that the scar is a viper,

it's sting an ache that vodka cannot quell, no reversal to downplay my misguided direction 

to take blood binds for granted in a fabricated bed story, such a shame to contemplate your tombstone   

we both now share bed sores in the undertow as the ocean past pursues forward without purpose

"Where to now? What happened to my fucking purpose? I am just a stone sinking Broken and numb Where to now? The way you made me, made me worthless Truth is in the end we all end up alone"

 

I chew my hand solely because cannibalism would get me locked up (and that ain't cool)

 calluses can be polished off; crush these hands Lord

this hunger hurts me to the core and I am torn

a cry for help can be tone deaf, mute point is truly impolite

Summoning decency supported by grace, forsaken at the darkest hour

A panel dislodged, a button pressed, a rapture's message lost at source

Hearsay, near miss, afterthought to pen to lips to ears

Rivers met waterfall tinkered down for fool's gold

put this unease to bed doll, I have so much to prove.

Sway, as may the sea breeze be salty so be tears, show us mercy

and this parallels diffuse how simple minded, clumsy even

humans (are) so prone to acts of reification

waving accusatory fingers that exuberated infected nerves

tapped however they may be by stress; by the media and press

ring all bell, shout fire and please DO call for help: a lie is buried just ahead.

If a scruffy ape tucks tail in tow, college sweetheart, school dropout, quick shut-eye

boredom bleeds stale joints, the ache echo to branches ghastly hallows on lonely nights

the catch of words strangled by attitude

can too lose focus, focus can too be lost, can too lost be out of focus?

Intimidation arrived late.

Cracked fingers disrupt motivation,

running low on fumes, tension now dispersed and the drugs are a mistake

The new idols are unworthy of fellowship

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do my agenda abide my reasoning to a T pretty please.

what a conundrum! to rein in immediate gain

Frothing nonstop, shaking and dizzy

villains, new age crooks

evolution has truly taken a darker turn.

gnawing fingertips preserved on ice,

cut the pulse, temper your enthusiasm

pepper the wound and take a bite

A cataclysm erupts as we deceive

the watchtower (ablaze) burns nicely, light vigil

statuary value, torches raised high

elongated arms, spirits and tension catapulted

sieged momentum, sanitary distraction

precaution - homemade remedy, Grandma's recipe knows best

the lump in my throat drops

the flies in my stomach get lit

this disease is everything, everlasting and grade A bullshit

feast your eyes on a fire alpaca as the hallucinations takeover

the slumber itches, forceful lingering on the celling of my mouth

a yawn held is a prayer felt

the migraine to successfully dispel as results swallow dreams

the Gods tempt me, they must be testing me

for the scourge of the heavens has put in my life's chapter

a woman of a different faith in the covenant of my embarrassment

as her cheer and childlike laugh enlarges the room I shrink

we have come full circle and my neck is still stiff due to the heartstrings

restricting my movement, averting my eyes to minimize the damage

the bitter irony of wanting to fight a lost battle anew, a calling for war.

 I chew my hand solely because cannibalism would get me locked up (and that ain't cool)

lover, kind one I trusted you

I wish I could see wishing for THAT love was so foolish of me

combat this anxiety, man down

an outdated journey, joyless ride baby

a rusty roller-coaster, sentient but on a low dangle,

fruit (putrid and vinegary)

Not a sliver of health, cluster burning tyre

Dim be dammed hang her, choke the lights please

Common sense has walked out, chasing war

therefore the dark arts cannot resurrect

this limp spirit on life support, my lips scarcely run dry

another friendship has run its due course

what if this drawn out breath

be my last? should I hold it for longer

savour the chief rule discounted from 10 downwards

10 right? no, wait left, 9 - 8 - 7..?

my life sprints to an open collective grave

decant the nectar, I do not want to hear it

so to best gel and burn amongst brethren

murky, fused bone and ash

feast to the bug, festival to the child

a numerical statistic in regards to however else

gentile, simple, structurally sound

second best, a pawn -recalibrated- copy pasted on the go

green-eyed monster, you desperate soul

abide my cries, release the door

remnant of ghastly events, no need for feedback

a channel conductor of crawlers

best left unsuspected, undisclosed.

Orange (poorly unfortunate soul)

Did not meant to do

ditto, did not meant to end up doing

rushing, crushing deadlines quotes

outside the timely windows tight shut

tight chest goes unnoticed, crux my heart to bare

where bread grows moldy and stale

a moody vibe that comes and does not let go

Scribbles, riddles, doodles or heavier words

sentimental songs cannot scratch nor help, skeptical

this irritation, narrow and uncomfortable (paper thin)

rough dirty hard skin, a metaphor mansplained

contempt, contemplate my misery

an empty stomach and for remedy go to sleep

sew my soul and void anew, wash it yearly on my birthright mark

Cramps induce blushes and curses

remorse and dreams of insolence

chalk penny mold, shaky mediums

borrowed an pencil to use:

bookmarked a stolen book

annotated by stained inky finger-tips upon it

stinking of oranges. 

__________________________________________________________________________

Has Man; singular, patriotic and fully erect triumph against Nature

hip firm in purpose, have I, the elected sperm, materialized said purpose

unto a golden age of ash and fear, excited for an extended lockdown 

scrap my teeth off the tit, evergreen

the topicals are flush with moist as my grip grows weak

rage, vent, spew, throw a coughing fit.

I can't feel my heart, lost count, held my breath,

she didn't kill me but the silence is a mountain

whose shadow a frozen spell circumstance

will the sun raise again, can I ever peak

what does not destroy me pieces question I did not request,

but I do doubt whether I should have.  

they are not who you remember through tainted glasses

an unclear referee unafraid to get it wrong 

boy oh boy do I get shot on command

stale water that ruins the vibe

tapping enter out of spite,

matching glee on the mirror'

another one I do not know

no hard feelings, somehow neutrality weights more

a point that grown blunt, edged off

this sickness of the mind dozes me to narrow charades

growing die to let die U-turns that caffeine fails to kill

bursting out laughing when I recall I am the one supposed to remember

to know what comes next.

if I had known all along

would I tread lightly?

fall in despair?

or cry over familiar smells,

tastes bittersweet, 

make-believe is a cruel mistress that puts my mind at ease.

Is it an allergy to intimacy?

A chain reaction grown out of bounds

Disproportional to norm, etiquette or reason

a phobia, bogus and harmful to the touch

to close, too linear to approach

A crossroad at midnight minus the devil's contract

no mystical purpose, potions or otherwise magical marvels

The only marbles on sight are stones wedged in the dirt

wonderful, ever so delightful crystal green eyes

pigments in a scale inferior to the prose

a barren necessity, the essential worker of my wasteland

The fruits of which labor I co-habitat in feudal tolerance

ghosts that echo ever so loud, present only ever

to resent the seasonal nostalgia of Fall

A mirage, brokered for those whose iron harvest

blinked, evaporated, a transmutation stagnated unto fear

panic! devoured my dashed hopes of indifference unto frail nerves

temperamental, rose cheeks shoulder a knock at the door

let be heard, here, last. 

water alone cannot quell the furnace

 your throne a stool of drawn blanks

grief, pestilence and lamentable callous reproduction

extraordinary irrelevance, exemption culled at birth

grunt for speech, that the cavernous mountain of sin persists

a sign of parasitic state, a leech attached in a shared doomsday bond

a forced marriage of sorts best left unexplained

convenient at best, mere prove that destiny must be colour blind

biting frost, infernal skewered tale 

tall tab of a task to digest 

monitored granted guidance driven to the wall

pressed on or stepped upon

squash whoever became the necessary cost

balancing the karmatic scales

loaming beacon of disaster, screams of extremes

I do not need you, never did.

 as my housemate strikes a candle alight

the essence seeps into my lungs, breathing dreaming flow as one

not necessarily the scientific approach but it felt easy

brought my mind to peace, comfortable in my knees

akin to wild water, bodies in flux abundant and plentiful

loveable to many, understood my the meaningful few

from above, in a fenced mythic

proven to have known where 

we should have known better

to the one my collarbones stroke

it might ring true, restless for her

the ensnaring spell holds me like a vice

I was not born heartless

this Deadman's chest purrs in slow motion

taken aback my relentless fuckery

denied the option of feeling

probably a distant second best?

and I got time to play with

Gone sight seeing

 if it rings true

how bitter dry my mouth has been

despite rainy eyes, shallow and disperse 

its dew a waste of saliva run astray

clothes of moderation cannot conceal salvation

alcohol is not the Higher Power that cures a cowards heart

the award of merit is my own and the judge personal and familiar 

closer to Home, a tribute, don't you hate me, you own me

lying, cheating my patience gazed away in a distance farewell

to the bitter possibilities of change that came to bring me joy

one quick to burn when we met at the crossroad of goodbyes

must we deny happiness at its climax? no celebrations

no more birthday cake, no parents glee, no one left to bury

that was my decision

do not sympathize with the conclusions of my meltdown

I ran and keep running away from stable ground

at least until I have no more friends around, no more time to combat this demons

to find myself in doubt, to drown despite knowing how to float, to swim one needs determination I suppose

if ever a lie I was told, which I recent...father

is how Time does not amend this wound, this pain does not fade

my heart was caged at Home

and nowhere else feels like home.

rather go to hell

 if this dirt that graces my feet

is what separates my future grave from the gates

where angel whispers guard my mother

despite the silence met

the scars left by my journey so far

the graceful passage under the gates must be worthwhile

I'll imagine I would grow indifferent to the horizon

from mighty above, where there is no more struggle 

after all, I suppose I would still hold a grudge

the undertow of what came to pass

like a river that swamps my brethren

and it is compassion that holds me to the ground

self hatred is intoxicating like mulled wine

these seeded chains became familiar

flowers to my bosom, holes to my potted garden 

one I wake up to and I am due return when the slaughter of living smothers me

I cherish the possibility of nurturing new life after the fact

do not deny me L'ord

for that I rather go to hell.

that my friend is too, tough love.

Chambers of uneasy hearts cased in stained glass

 Chambers of uneasy hearts cased in stained glass

you must understand I prayed to become a better man

worthy of devotion, affection and ease of mind

to serenate locked in arms with yours truly 

in the matter that easily belongs to the past, to the fading stars

locking horns with words my lips conceal

the mere suggestion of farewells and goodbyes little girl

are timely lies we could had told our children

in due time hurt can dilute the truth in a fare dosage

one that is sweet like poison, like her touch resting in my head

on that night, by the beach, under a Buda's statue and a shooting star

the panic, the confusion of thunderous realization of whatever else

one could try, anew more less no I don't know fuck

the wall grown to soften the blows and now treads a motherly touch

warm, firm, strong, welcoming, silent and enduring

it rejects not my anguish and violence and for that I am grateful

it is awkward

my compassion nurtured rightfully so

pity the mirror is broken still

petty, I just won't let that scab alone

I tremble for one day too I will discard this friends

without goodbyes have no doubt

trapped in this shell that unfolds backwards