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.