seeking fulfillment
         in dreams travel far
    yet bless being present
                complete where we are

Screaming,
though all is under cover
and my whole is still all wrapped.
Can you see it, too,
the myriad mirrors casting my form
my shape across dimensions
worlds
universes of possibilities unknown and
unreachable.
Screaming,
though nothing shall be reached
and the thought is not what counts.
Can you feel it, too;
the trembling and tremors
in the fault lines of the air
causing nightmare images of
a reality that none may know.
He stares at me,
the many pronged deer
a demon in my own right
but never his own.
I mustn't look--
no, avert your gaze--
keep looking forward
keep screaming shrilly
uselessly
against the all encompassing cracks
of a reality already bent out of shape.
I am still screaming
and I say,
"--"

Public Correspondence to A Man Called Death:

I have watched you from my window
every ****** day
for the past 3,
and I must have to ask
just why you seem to always
just be doing a tiny bit of
fiddling
beneath your long, blackened robes?
Could it be
that you watch me change,
slip from one post-industrial
piece of industrial garbage
to another,
fat bottom shaking and
curly hair quaking all about?
If so,
feel free to give me a yell,
for I am so very lonely,
Mr. Death.
So,
when is it, exactly,
that you're planning to come in
and stay with me?

The hardfaced queen of misadventure
Dressed in a robe of insecurity
Seated on a throne of infidels
Ornate with misled hearts of a thousand men.

The resenting mirror of insidious lies
Confessed all the ugly truth
Of all those swollen eyes and wrinkled cheeks
Concealed behind a facade of smiles.

The incongruous pair of unfortunate heels
Tells a thousand stories of her exploit
In worn out stilettoes of faded red
By the futile resistance of those frozen feet.

Playing god on the hellbound streets
Her thighs bewitching weak and drunken hearts
In a fiery throng of mutilation
For a decisive battle that shall claim no victor.

Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.