You're out on the porch smoking again
and I'm in here alone hoping for the end
and slowly but surely we're both seeking death

I like long walks on the beach
with your hand in mine
and the heady sensation
of finely aged wine
I like this smothering heat
and my toes in the sand
like the hot coals of hell
in an underground land
I like the feel of your bones
between my teeth and
the squish of your veins
and the life you breathe.

the coaxing leering laughter and the coke crusted smiles hold me together through my daily trials until the mountains fade and plains stretch far and my childhood chains resurface along with old scars.

These many scars whisper I should have died young.

hold my heart between your teeth, and squeeze until I know
that love is dumb and blind and feral, and sappy gooey sentiment
is only present in the blood it spills.

I've met people like you.
Loud, boisterous, dangerous, charismatic, charming, perfect.
You, force of nature, unable to be forgotten.
steam rolling over the people like me.

All my best friends have forgotten me. But I remember them.
My friends were the loud and the powerful, protecting me, meek and sheltered. So years after I've left, their impression is seared into my brain while I'm just an insignificant whisper deep in the back of their memories.  
My friends are the **** and mysterious. The ones everyone wants to be. I'm only kept by their side because of my docile nature, every group needs a quiet one. Unfortunately the quiet ones are easy to forget...

Now I lay me down to sleep
Now the dreams will conquer me
Smoke that swirls is my death
My sweet sweet sin
There's nothing left
Now I lay my head to rest
And hope I may
For death in dreams
I know we're young
But we're not free
Not to die as we please.
So I'll smoke these cigarettes
Offer them my soul
And in exchange
They'll swallow me whole
This is the death I choose.
Amen.

I'm tripping ******* the seam between the sidewalks
listless and breathless I'm falling back and forth,
holding out for a helping hand,
waiting for my knight.

he was a desperate and lonely plea in the dark, she a nervous laugh and waning spark
together they scared one another off but contrast bade them compliments
and one without the other leaves a bad taste in my mouth

What are you going to do
when everything you thought you knew
turns away and leaves you to the wolves.
What are you going to do
when the plans you once drew
are no longer legible.
What are you supposed to do
when your psyche turns to something new
and the voices in your head are no longer familiar.
What are you supposed to do
when you find out red is really blue
and you're a muddled shade between.

I dream of ******.
My mistress, my mother.
******, ****** my dear...

I dream of Chaos.
My friend and my brother.
Chaos let them shake in fear....

I dream of Death
My reflection, my other.
Staring at me in the mirror...

I dream of Uncertainty
Or I think I do...
My father, oh father....
What shall we do..............

Forget rabbit holes an brambles,
I have a nice neat doorway
you can step through
with a nice neat mat and
many smiling tenants to greet,
and we'll have such a good time
good clean fun with card games
and, if we're feeling risky, maybe a
touch of champagne.
Or *******.
And the kicker,
oh my ******* loving lord,
the piece de resistance,
is just how clean psychosis can be.
How neat and pink and rosy,
these yellow pills can keep you cozy.
Forget being mad, be happy.

lately i've been wondering how I'd look in court room,
fitted suits and clipped banter as i juggle right and wrong
another case another day another life flushed down the drain.

I don't believe in angels or heaven or hell, not honestly.
I don't believe in forever or in life or in death.
I've become a non-entity of self loathing for my lacking purpose.
Its worse when I'm alone.
I hate those people, the ones like myself.
They're pathetic and annoying and utterly loathsome little beasts.
So whiny and emotional.
Who the **** needs purpose anyway?

I, a puddle on the floor
lying lowly evermore,
while solid structures
rise above and worry
little about flood.

Hold me closer
hold me tight
close my eyes
and **** my fight
let me sleep
let me fall
I don't think
you cared
at all.

I need somewhere to roam
where my dark thoughts can be
without judgement.

No one seems to get my humour,
apparently my suicidal thoughts
aren't funny

My cynicism has seeped into my veins
and now my heart beats to its awful cadence
and I've found comfort in its crude caress

My home is in the dark
the light will not abide
my home is stark and white
the world is standing by

our spindly legs carry us far
and brittle bones make for light cargo,
with sweeping steps and toppling grace
who cares if the skin sinks deep in our face.
you're all pigs, rolling in mud
and here we tower, watch from above
sure bones are sickly and skin translucent
what a small price to pay to rise above your dirt.

a righteous contradiction
I'll hold your interest long
enough to captivate your soul.

Dragon flies and lanterns
cast shadows through my mind
causing jesters on the wall
to cautiously unwind,
with a heavy heart of liquor
I beg them to go on,
do try to heal my soul
its fallen, maybe gone.

Windy blues and tortured greys, my nights are leaking into days, and over mountains cold and dreary, my bones are shaking, dry and weary.
I pray you hold your flesh close by, lest it catch the wind and fly.

She's a boss *** *****
with diamonds in her eyes
and mercury flowing over her skin.
When she walks the world
tumbles, crumbles, easily humbled.
She's got a devil's tongue
with a lick of fire in her veins
and she's all I've ever
dreamt of being.

Tummy full of worms and mind full of death
A wriggling roiling pain and painfully bad breath
I am not your babe nor a pristine lass
But I’m certainly the skinniest in this ****** up class

Oh honey, you'll be fine
divine and holding out hope
an angel with no god, no home.
Oh babe your ignorance
looks so good on you
stay steeped in wholesome lies
safe from dreadful truth.
Oh sweetheart, your dumb
******* head is so perfect,
so rottenly pure, its mawkish
scent brings me to my knees.

You're gone again and I know the feeling, a familiar lingering pain.
I knew you'd leave, it's not your fault, but it hurts all the same.
They say you're doing good, serving our country's valiant goals...
but the system is corrupt and its hard to pretend we're not selling souls...

I don't know who I am.
And I know I never have.
For some reason its hitting me harder than before,
or at least from what I remember.
I remember it being bad when my mom was a wreck
and I, a strictly A student, received my first F.
I remember it being bad when my first step dad left,
and the weird assurances he made that he wouldn't abandon me.
I never thought he would, until he tried to reassure me.
But the earliest memory I have of not knowing myself, of it being bad,
was when I was little, in court, because my dad wanted to adopt me,
and a man I'd never met wouldn't let him.
I was young, and I realized I didn't know who I was.
I was 12 and I didn't know who I was.
I was 16 and I didn't know who I was.
Now I'm 20 and I don't know who I am.
My mom was 36, and didn't know who she was.
I'm writing this as documentation.
A thought taken down, so as not to be forgotten.
All sorts of people talk about forgetting who they are,
and finding themselves again.
I want my future self to know, that as of yet,
I've never known who I was.

You're undeniable, deplorable and ultimately a hoax
that speaks to me on that superficial level that's sunk below

Disconnected syllables of broken names trying to be whole
fill my dreams and echo through my home
while the eyes of a billion childlike selves cast their judgement...
Who are you.
Dislocated limbs pile in corners of my room
and I've forgotten where each fits,
and to which long past figure they belong, but still their eyes question...
Who are you.
Disappearing thoughts leave mist in their wake
only remembered by their now empty space
and a distant weakening whisper...
Who are you.