hold unto the knife
as if it were a prayer,
as if the steel held answers to your questions
and the blade answered them whispered
against your skin,
as if the bleeding from the wrists
get high on every cut,
as if every blood drop spent
were a revelation and you,
prophet of burned bibles
were a revelation and you,
tired of life
as if nirvana
hid in the space
between your palms
and the knife’s hilt,
as if you could only breathe
when you cut,
as if god only answers
when you’re numb,
Rain Within MeDesolate pool, I will fill you now
So long I've ignored you
Let others drink the life out of you
This time I will make you proud
As low as your surface as gotten
I will defend your honor
Reclaim existence through labor
My god, I feel so rotten
Forgive me for turning the other cheek
I didn't know the world would rape you empty
I apologize for not being able to see
Consume everything, it's all they seek
I'll shed a tear to your floor
To begin this healing process
My love for others was my weakness
I'll save you with an empathetic downpour
Now it's just us
And you can breathe with me again
In the water I see but one reflection
This day I did myself justice
microscopic transgressions in god's petri dishpangean hips
we're the hottest fossils in this gambit
our loves' cold crater, covered in ash
... but it won't last
so we've spent this past year deep undercover
our little universe asunder
metamorphic misfits plotting
our final trip around the sun
and when it's done -
we'll gladly fold into abstraction
with no cheese left in the traps
or proclivities to flash
we've finally found a way to ask our loves'
cold crater covered in ash
Angels Don't Need GunsIf Heaven won't take me back
did I ever belong there
in the first place?
Because if what I thought was right
isn't what Heaven thought,
then why was I ever there,
if not as an enemy?
Maybe it's just that I've seen more
and it's changed something inside.
Does that make me wicked?
I wonder why – it seems to me
that innocence is only useful
when it's already lost.
But I chose to take up the flag
that the fallen left behind,
and if that bars me from what
I always thought was home,
maybe it never really was.
exterior conversation decoratorif The Ghost does not appear on the tenement veranda -u are not leaving
nausea of hour showing its getting there innards
i brushed off the words
and put the thot back in the head grenade
-gold diggers change by the day.
what's a mountain to you?
it's all i can give.
some government's territory.
with your face pressed
inside the wall
you built feelings.
salt helps sweet out
in a sense
but tears are not holy.
if you don't see yourself
you're in a mirror.
become a thin king.
black-and-whitewe've torn the testicles from the words that gave us womb-blast.
fish are dying to see you; their eyes are mellow forest-lights,
it's not so impossible as all that. our dinner plates
reflect our gruesome visages. hell is love in its
ten thousand megawatt recycling force, when the tears
come home to you. i pray, we pray, you pray for the
there is a name for the journey, a sound the mouth makes when
teeth hurt and then it cries in the unforgettable patois of
unspoken reveries, wrapped in warm wool, eating of dead light.
nobody guessed at the fungal variety staining the reality of our
Hive Minds Are For BeesHive minds are for bees,
you say as you press me
for everything I've gathered
so you can use it
for your own.
And apparently that's okay.
Sharing is caring,
you say as you demand everything
from me and refuse
to offer even acknowledgement
And apparently that's okay too.
We're all free people,
you say as you chain me
to the stocks
for not working with you,
even though you were wrong.
How can that be okay?
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