Grim Reality

Walls and Windows Wear Wounds

The last left turn
Down this gaunt, chlorophyll hole of radiation phantoms, mangling; Inflicting
Dehydrated anemone dreams, plucked from the serenading sonatas of the mind –
Fairy tale anatomy wickedly impaled with dirty-scissor incisions
Spinal fluid rupture beneath flickering horror movie skylights
Grind and whir, grind and whir, a debate between machinery on the significance of humans
Bone dust-cloud high ushering dilated dismemberment, Visine-clean crime scene; Mistakes are negotiable –
Note addendum: Except for hemorrhaging…
Your autopsy has been scheduled; excuse the shaky hands, you have 31 minutes, no talking
Crows are expiring, candy carbon dioxide hangover with a cherry, fizzy twist –
Pop-splat, pop-splat; Obsidian-snow plumage waterfall migration, but you cant see the trees
For the forest is a serrated, saturated disaster –
This bitter gin wreath of black feathers, a luscious crown of disillusionment, as I
Decompensate, hibernate in a dark corner in the library of desolated dreams, with dislocated eyes
I read new volumes of misery, tomes of abstract mathematical hieroglyphs that make my mind crumble –
Any truth summoned out of desperation is deficient in authentic meaning, and I
Loathe my nauseous psychobabble –
The circle eats itself, and that is all you need to know
Embalmed in this contorted, rotting-winter nursery rhyme
Blonde curls, soft breasts, and rooms of green perfume now silent
I spiral into the next basement psychosis
Mewling vertebrae in the wall; The hedge ghouls are bickering and staggering around wicked corners –
Botched debauchery stabs my eardrums as it retches in the yard, rendering my beliefs obsolete
There is no tender truth here, no coagulation to stop the leaking of my mind –
I have carried all of this unfortunate weight, this ghastly grotesquery. This vulgar Mardi Gras party –
Carnival of the wretched damned
With my taunted, fractured bones
And those murky worms flaunting razor teeth, gnawing through my succulent brain
I push my groaning gravestone, its calamity of words drafted from rancid ink
Webs of pissed waterbugs wasted on lifes vinegar wine…
Stringy fingers of atrocity steal my tears to water the weeds, beneath a stargarden moon
Its shimmering, neon, jasper river, a gasmask-green nocturnal nectar
Precious, like hoarded Demon dew
My disappointments seek mutated murmurs
Distilled deviations of these last abrasive seasons (I beg my reflection in this backward mirror!)
Acid seasons dripping all their color, and then you recognize that the wailing you heard was your own…
How does the moon slip through your fingers, pulling the screaming stars with it?
Amputating the fragrant molecules sliding down the curvature of your naked spine?
Sliding through times quicksand tears, as they drop splintered logic?
The silvery-pink cocoon where you nestled within loves sublime mosaic –
Safe from streetlight demons
10 plus 3 and 3 plus 10 is 13 now, was 13 then; Is truth a fallacy? Or is fallacy a truth?
Epochs archetypes Divinity unwinds, reveals our shadows existence and its tragedy…
My enemy was me

Froth

Invoking Innocence

My skin peels away from my skeleton
Arching, peeling in slow, arduous motion like my mind
Fleeing this wretched, wrecked enchantment; Done
Soliciting the thready arms of madness or assisted suicide
Over the wall the dust blows
Blasting, grinding into my skin and eyes
Pulverizing all I know… my heart your derelict, symbiotic field; Fallow

– hissing pain, burdened… top-heavy with synthetic froth –

Rocky clouds stomped toward stars to swallow or collide
I was smothered in your remedy
Sticky honeyed treat with delayed side effects
Soothing my veins, until scripts for me became her type, your fingers in collusion; Density
A regression of y on x

– After years of frigid, pulseless solitude, where talking with fantastical, amorphous beings, draped with angel wings, achromatic and ratty, like a demons hooves, was the only way to contour my mind into a wonderland, so the stark, lonely, soulless ambience in which I was encased, would cease to be encasing…
Your side effects were devouring the organized mess of my making, and I –
My lovely disorders, eating away at my self-stitched, hand-written, carefully formed humanness, like hammer to my clay; Such careless chipping and cracking, a submission beyond repair, leaving behind perfume-rusted lips, bitter eyes, a heart of malnutrition and paper…
Pages and pages of words without resonance; Love letters missing love; Who knew?
My spirit of charcoal ruminations, dotted with withered, pastel-canyon veins –
That weeping from the depths of your bones that chokes, suffocates; A scarecrow, sans stuffing, flat, dull, and, rotting at his unsoiled, virginal feet, witness to your harm, deceits pungent ravages in the lifeless eyes of a dead bird; Your disbelief and anguish stare back at you –

Dirt-grey, tracks in the snow epitaph, worn, shoddy and cruel
An apologia left in breath on a dingy window overlooking the stagnant brown grass
Love or lust or lust or love?… a perpetual anxiety, waxing, cutting contemplations; Duel
Patio table littered with coffee rings, cigarettes, flecked with poetic, tear-laced ash
A blue postscript: Images may seem further than they appear
Words may be apocryphal. Believe at your own risk and impossible notions
Scent of love in freefall. Chaotic reaching – warm fingers tracing spine only to slip; Veer
Into the abject, grim tomb of a universal ocean
Ghosts of love, woe in death, specters of dreams that were unmet
Crashing bone into bone, splinters like a twig to stone
Eternity has no name here, where what begins becomes what ends, no fond desire; Forget
Fine print isn’t suited to restless eyes re love caveats carved into wishbones
A torrid tangle of delicious and damage: Words, coffee, cigarettes, frost and flame –
Belladonna lull sweet but deadly
Your mouth learning my body, lovingly insisting that this was final, we were… final; True
The feel of you pressing against me, lips on my neck, fingers in my hair, tangled there, tangled there…
A singed, burnt, combustible palette, gasoline can leaning against the wall
Falls early darkness lets me hide; Trauma rest…
Put you back away ferociously
Each time I recall

Pen-tential (Poets Apology)

Petals Passionately Perfume Potential Paradise

Here it unfolds…
A thousand centuries within one petal scrolled
Hope among the stars who’ve lost their zest
Dreams captive in my heart have hurtled from my chest
Moonfire sky ignites the stars into chrysanthemum sparklers
I’ve been waiting for something that I never knew I wanted –
And I dive
Into this waterfall of an ancient oceans visions in caramel eyes
There you are…
Strange and dark, stark and beautiful
I fell fast instead of rushing slow
I held Time –
Reached into eternity to steal what was obviously mine
Love’s been murdered constantly by all these poets
Pen their words as if they’re mystics and precious when they show it
Fill our minds with their nicotine mythologies
Glamorizing what they believe was never meant to be
Loves gestation barely ascends before left in sooty ruins
No lovers cosmic coupling, ferocious, fetishised, feral swoons
No latticed lavender elixir running sweet through darkroom arteries
No equinox embalmed souls, eucalyptus twined, and thus –
Graven wounds morose no longer outlive time
Did you send me spirit blooms in the ravens tongue?
Messenger with your eyes, whispering of love and madness…
I’ll plant them in our cemetery garden, beneath the moonstone circle topiaries
I’m so sorry that you didn’t know
I’m so sorry that you told yourself that no one
Would ever want to see your soul
Glimpses of layers, grey into blue
Outlines of shadows in sanguine-tinted hues
Come lay with me on the crest on the hill
Sky of rose-tinted marmalade, light mating with shade
No need to search for further clues
I’ll take your hand right on cue
Among puffy cumulus cloud animals –
I see you