Truthfully,
you remind of someone I'd know
in my dreams;
a strangers face made recognizable
by lack of initiative, or curiosity.
Impervious to actualization.

Confidence in nightmares;
reflective of shock-waves of Nagasaki,
mutants in our collective DNA,
monsters wading in the gene pool.

Atheists with superstitions.
A viral nihilism befuddled by
religious idioms and anecdotes,
held together loosely by
scientific mysticism
&
hypocritical moral
superiority.

She reminds me that humanity is just,
"everything that mankind is capable of."
Builds complex doomsday devices in his head,
and plots to rule the world.
Meanwhile Manhattan project seeks
to either rule the world
or open it's
throat.

It pains me to write a puff piece
on hometown, love-life, hope/etc.,
yet I can wax lyric lusting for the apocalypse.
In this fashion, I can look into crowds
[sadistically romantic]
and tell them, aspiring to the Manhattan
in our everyday savage grey matter,
"We all have dreams in our hearts."

I feel a compulsive need to burn most of you,
or rule a few thousand with cybernetic underlings,
because robots can't say no
based on moral principle.

A season ripe with yellow jackets.

They wanted laws without control,
orders without rulers,
and religion without gods.

We made them fight for what?
Liberty? Justice? Freedom?
Not even glory...
We made them fight for a cage,
and they celebrate
even as we shut the doors.

It's absolutely hilarious.

We invented god, and fear
ourselves
and our
own creations.

Torn in flesh, worn in faces,
I like it when I walk somewhere
and the sidewalks are suspiciously
empty of strangers.

Thumps like clockwork,
and speeds up for all the same reasons.

Listening to Miles Davis,
******* a stranger in the bathroom,
falling in love again,
screaming and crying
and banging your head against the wall.

The clouds dissolve and when they
almost see you face to face,
you burn down your bridges
and make them start from
square one.

We put gas in our tanks and pretend
all our claws are clean and pick at the bones
and the guts and we’re not satiated.

We give our souls and smiles and bodies and ****,
we’re not gifts or garbage, we’re human slot machines.

We are sterile in our thoughts,
and septic everywhere else
in a fashion that’s tasteless,
yet not obscene.

Donate clothes to the poor through
homophobic institutions because
what else can we really do?

Powerless, and yet so convinced we’re going to
fight the bureaucracy some day, and **** yeah
spell check writes half of my good **** nowadays.
I navigate online dictionaries seldom and cowardly.

Most of my writing is anti-revolutionary in the sense
that I hate what I desire intellectually and sincerely
but only because I want it so ******* bad,
and in the end I’m powerless
and empty and distant.

This fear is not that
someone is frightened by your mind,
but that they find it
both typical and mediocre.

If you live in this fear
you are slave to your own supremacy;
Create a devil and live in it's shadow.
You can't even be
the filth you sink to, fully.

If your question was a tree,
the answers would be the fruit
and every one
is ripe
and low hanging,

yet somehow you manage to partake
in a feast of rot and harvest sickness
where fertility is rampant.

Withheld fortunes of spring's past
spoiled in the jar,
yeah, you ****** it up.
It was really simple too,
but you break your own themes
over your knees to be correct.

You fail anyways.
White noise in sheets like
rain over your party
and your guests burn you
for treachery.

Whether you assume responsibility,
or it is forced upon you
these consequences will be yours.
The answer is simple then really;
Don't **** up.

...and haunted by
undead royalty.

We sink to extremes
and discover solace in finality,
because we yearn to be
morally black and white.

Engineers of blood-driven machines,
garnered in fleets, unsinkable,
parasites, unkillable.

Your wights and revenant
wander around you like
brain-dead dogs caged in
useless human flesh.

Finding ease in ownership.
Bliss in the wavering ignorance
of taking orders without question.

We are gods or insects.