“Just end it.”

They scream, as if

their blast to my eardrums weren't enough

when whispered.

“Just end it.”

Hit me hard. It hit me hard.
Hard and fast, swift to my soul.
Fast and slowly, as the red rushes.
And that’s just it. The red rushes.

Kick it,
Kick it,
Kick it,
KICK IT.

Trash is my forte, trash is my freedom.
Vice is the grip, you can call your own claim.
For, when the red rushes, it rushes fast.
But you know that, don’t you? You knew all along.

Kick me,
Kick me,
Kick me,
KICK ME.

I kinda like the red, oh how it rushes.
I like the way it taste, the tingling it brings.
Sorta knocks you off your feet, the red does.
Cause when the red rushes, you will start to notice.

Kick me,                                                When the red rushes, will you notice?
Kick me,                                                When the red rushes, will you notice?
Kick me,                                                When the red rushes, will you notice?
KICK ME.                                              When the red rushes, you will notice.

The green and blue.

It’s all I ever see, haunting me, continuously.

Crawling down my throat, and out my pours.

A constant flow of energy, of the Oxycontin

Maybe a sign I cry, before my face

crashes down, concrete and all.

Oh, don’t judge me.

Please?

The guiltiest part
of an artist's daily life
is looking at their work;
their creation, their emotional expression
of the world they see around them
with regret and fear
that the real world around them
will pillage the creative structures
they have built around their heart,
knocking down this creative wall
keeping them safe from said
Art Vikings.

But, young creator,
never fret,
for your walls are strong,
and willing to accept
those willing to accept you,
and with this newly found
artistic army
you can fight the Vikings off
and glue that chip back to your
shoulder.

The sun shines
across her hair
on her skin
and in her eyes

Across her hair
my mind dances
and in her eyes
the world awaits

My mind dances
on her skin
the world awaits
The sun shines

Pen bleeds life
in a way undescribed
by words

An eloquent dance
of tongue never to
be spoken.

See me again,
Covered in glass armor
for cover.

I am weak
and tremble around your
glowing chastity.

So refined are
your enchanted words flowing
smoothly forward.

All it takes
is a simple "Hello"
to start a world of heartache.