Red, raw, raging regret
As far away as you can get
You make me want to hurt myself
To collapse into a shallow shelf
Shame is eating my head away
Pain is bleeding and here to stay
How can you say everything is okay?
That I am not killing you every day?

We need to talk. We need to walk.
We need to finalize what we feel.
We need to get all these feelings out
To remove our hands from our swollen mouths
This is all a nightmare.
My stomach churns and you don't care.
You said yourself you're numb to me.
Please, oh please, don't let that be.

I am so, so, so, so, so, so sorry
My aching eyes are closing hardly
There must be something left in you
For you keep writing about me.

Don't think I can't see it, it's so true.

Why won't you let me be in love with you?

Please, let's talk. Please.
See me soon.

Detached. Re-rendered. Under-appreciated. Again.

She was a cold photograph, still life; subterfuge, undertow, parabola, meltdown.
Words. Nothing in common. But the picture is there.

I'm not sure where it's going.
Because we are lacking confidence.

This world has interested me for so long. Celebrities save citizens more than governments. Hilarious.

Ellen was a saint during Katrina. Bush was in a tree house, as our satirical representatives like to put it.

Peoples' actions are giving selfishness a bad name. We all forget that non-infringement is the first step towards equality. We must preserve such sacred rights.

But do we care? History is a short hour of stifled laughter and deals. Ironic.

Let's just lie down on the grass like we used to.
But how can we knowing what we know now?

What if we had tools to forget? To run away?

There they are in the sugar.

Our God has forgotten our world
But we would rather float alone
We would rather own this home

No renting from judgment
Hypocritical clockwork
Every six minutes
Another empty phrase

This isn't just a warning
About the empty globe
This is a promise

Truly an apocalyptic nostalgia
Nebulae will fill the skies
The clouds will dissolve into green madness
It will be the most beautiful night of our lives

Souls have vacated all mankind
Only a few remain in right mind
We're the last to drift alive
But it won't matter by the end of night

The final hour is upon us

It's 3 in the afternoon

Trees all bearing fruit laughing
Gassing animals with broken hulks
Rusted on the roadside

The grass goes on and splits the mountains
The temperature begins to build
My hand and your hand
My glass and your sand

A broken mirror in the rocks
A final breath before it stops

It gets faster and faster every day. Every second in fact (notice the square).

I feel so sad for our generation.

Such a variety of brilliant minds spinning recklessly out of control, day by day by day. Things just get worse and worse and no one can stop it.

I feel sad because this collision course will end in one big cataclysmic crash, sending each of our young geniuses flying in all kinds of directions before they could ever discover the meaning of true, TRUE love.

The feeling one encounters when raising a child, an automobile, a house, a life...a goal. The emotion trapped within the nature of justice, the unbreakable cure for any disease of morality. This will never be revealed to us. It's all being drained away slowly, and every day new faces come round, and slowly those faces contort until they get more hateful, and with each passing day I see all the faces I used to love fading into cliques of twos and threes, starting to draw lines, burning bridges, ...falling down.

Divided.

I decided to devote my time to finding the most grotesque and morbid things that happen to ordinary people in the life I live in the town I live in. I have decided to devote my time to the macabre. A sort of Chuck Palahniuk outlook, if one pleases. The generally "ordinary" people around here have some secrets, and maybe it's time to spill them. Maybe it's time for people to get sickened, and frightened, and disgusted, and revolted, and angry. Maybe it will make them do something.

Kudos, 2012.

There is no floor
Below the water there is sand and dust
My feet disappear below the mist
And below that is a floor of nothing.

Lock and key, relative conductivity
Separation of anxieties
Generally elementary
Universal energy
Scientific inquiry
Empirical discovery

What a bunch of crap.

I bathe in fake white plastic
I swim in silent smiles
Dionysian warfare paintings
Classical textual narrating

Fitness, happiness, soporific movies
Genial tendencies, braced for ingenuity
Waiting for a paroxysm to bring forth neologisms
That test the boundaries of scientific truth
That recapture the errant minds of youth
We could make new buildings or lose a tooth

I hold the latter higher than that
I tilt the ladder there and back
Assiduous and wont, *** for tat
All a game, a joke at that
Your domain, provoked and trapped
Impressionistic spinal taps
On canvases of green and black
All from within cerebral shacks

Wind hammers palm trees on windowpanes
Wind tears down houses, rips apart planes
Wind doesn't move me, yet seems urbane
It's so jejune, it's all the same
I'm tired and lonely, powder remains
Pink like reagents in reactive flames
Quick like catalysts jumping inane
Frontal lobes retired my brain.

All I think when you look away
Is that one day,
You're going to make me want to stop.

My skin's warmth will not keep you happy.
You have it all taken care of.

And when you don't,
Words I've pulled out of my head
..For real, though...
They can't do anything for you.

Some day,
When the clouds are only white,
You'll crush me.

And as with the other August Decembers,
You won't empathize.

Hair like the hanging gardens
Eyes, Irish portals
Raspberry lips and their absence
O, to soak in the glory of your presence.