christbreath on the windowpane

the wounded shepard,
wounded
still, he tended to me
I had made my homecoming
to the delight of no one in particular
Immersed in a crowd of unfamilar faces
a certain
hostility was felt
i had secrets, my share
but no one knew, yet
I was still looked upon as an abomonation
I took up my arms and began to figh
gnashing my teeth with the ferocity
of hell and lucifer
I failed.

I've lost

The Antitdote of Possesion
With bleeding eyes, I offer my apologies
My skin is boiling off
my autopsy in progress
my anger with you resides entirely within
the battlefields of emotion
your pale ghastly skin illuminates
my face and misery
and with unsplendid candor
i begin to dissect you
with the chance to one day
consume you whole.

A Handbag Fashioned of Christ
I've spent my entire life on the outlying
islands
I might as well live on Jupiters moons
for when I see her, I stop.
I don't ir can't continue. Whisper how
pathetic i am in my ear.
shes pulling me into the massacre.

The Beauty Of A Car Crash. pt 3.

Miss America, girl next door. All smiles when
it counts. Reckless behind closed eyes.
Assume her to be comprised of simply hormones, fake beauty and alcohol.
What she's lacked in IQ she makes up in Blood Alcohol content
and
and
sloppy blowjobs

She's not expecting it.

Guardrails make the prettiest jewerly
for this fluorescent lipped siren

The last mistake was her eyes

mother, raise children.
all she had to remember them by was screams
and a roadside memorial.

Miss America disentgrated into the wind shield
moonlight an eerie backdrop
to the end of her.

Alone, at the end of the world
Im lost
like little kid department store lost
middle of the ocean
running out of life
but not distraught
Im lost
Im not coming home, again. ever.
I love you.

splendid
All the years of you
gnawing away at my face
have worn thin
caustic hands steal my eyes
before i can object
my tongue seperated from mouth
by use of force
i've seeked to find out when
im supposed to become
final.
but my heart is being torn and slowly split
serves all.

A+B_C

Blood form under my eyelids
your icepick dragging the surface
retinas severed by the force of your
transgressions
consume me for the sake of nothing
it is of no importance if you conduct the
symposium of how to destroy my body
through use of brute strength and trauma
take your hands off from around my
neck
I seek to breathe.

bull

a maggot
sarcophogus cocooning it's being
writhing in it's tomb,
it's mausoleum a reflection of it's shame
he must be destroyed

it's life, splintered
the shards of glass, a bitter taste of victory
bellowing from the treetops
it's aura a dissection of it's values
his morals decrepid, the plagues seeking
and seeping

it's doomed
doom

who will save us? who will save the people?
deliver us, deliver us from evil
deliver us from madness

or we will die

and die alone.

we were always the best at being shameful.

poopsand

like vultures,
fucking vultures circling wounded prey
you cling to meaning
for the sake of reassurance
or in actuality, the sake of bandaging your wounds
as a result of your mistakes
ill soothe you tonight with lies
you smell like cheap perfume
and your breath is hot against my cheek
i hold you, for my own reassurance
but i know I've already lost you.


i am building this, for you, in all hopes that one day
I'll be able to smile at the look on your face
when it all comes crashing down
destroyed
a repercussion to your livelihood
cloak your feelings
emotions burned out, but time past being provocative enough
to draw you out of hiding
to burn you where you stand


the savageness in which you decry compassion
and the beating of your heart
imbrues me with fear

im wide awake.

im dying.

cops and robbers.

This unbearable burden is closer to being lifted off my shoulders. Like walking through deep snow with every step getting harder then the last, and the snow seemingly rising, its only intent to consume you and break you.

I've carried on, but with a chip on my shoulder. Now, i could be pressed to care. which might work out, since i usually only care about myself.
but when your burning bridges, bridges that are years in the making, you send a clear message.

so, i implore you, continue on. see how far it gets you. If you cross enough people, you may be able to die alone. all those who you think about, or favor, or slave to, don't mean anything to you. when you drop, they drop. when your gone, they might miss you for about 25 minutes.. before they get a fix.

I'm over it. home is home is hell. I'm used to it... everything i hate about here, i love equally.

so, in a press statement I release to the world, I denounce the merits of companionship, and friendship, and boast endlessly of the destruction of my sense of certainty, and compassion.

Kneads verse Wands

SEXYFACE

oh baby girl, this ain't right
i can't sit by and watch you spend another drunken night
with someones' bravado and chemical confidence
but still,
you sneak into my heart each night
i claw and fight for you to leave
but you always win

i am everything you could ever need
but nothing you would ever want


Game Over

Over my shoulders, i see the wolves closing in
i run and run and run
through the cold, though the sleet
but suddenly, i stop and clutch my chest
what will be the end of me?
will it be decadence i throw upon myself?
or will the ghosts of past mistakes resign me to
my fate?



fame over
Im not your friend
im here to make you feel better about yourself
im not your friend
im your crutch
im your excuses
im the reason you hate home
im the reason you smile everytime you see me
see, no im not your friend
im just everything that brings you happiness
and at the same time, im not your friend
im just here.

WINTERGAYSEX

if anything
and by that i mean
if dreams were meant to be actualities
and you weren't so damn cruel
winter would never come.

and for good reason.
if we're apart, then the world is right.
let's not disrupt this balance
this delicate nature of protocol and purpose
we're content

but all we do is suffer. we are never truly happy.
and for what means? to appease earthly desires?
well, you know, id trade it all in an instance
for an shot of fufillment.

to feel blood, running through my veins
to actually have it signify that i was alive
and not just dreaming
it would be finished

until then, until my number is called
ill sit, and wait. for you.
perhaps for a chance to feel your breath against my face
or your touch on my skin

but until then, ill wait. ill wait until death.
winter will get the best of me.

winter will be the end of me.

bane

I'm alive.
Breathe.

Your alive.
So they say.

Try not to worry about what they say...

tropic of cancers

These are thoughts that popped into my head throughout the day of sunday.

I really don't let strokish boys from home bother me that much. If anything they provide endless comedy from me. I know that all these jockish winners amount to nothing more then washed up, overweight barfly hollow versions of their former self's. Run up that tab boys, cheers to you!

My equivalent to being sea sick, or just having that dreadful feeling of melancholy and depression sinking is being on the highway for too long. Im sure sailors used to become depressed and tired of being at sea, away from loved ones, with nothing but miles of blue surrounding them.

I get that feeling to when I drive long periods of time. The drive to st. louis or florida are prime examples.

right now i have a thorn in my side, nagging me and constantly souring my mood.

how much would your life had to have sucked to be reincarnated as a cow? just sitting all day, eating grass until your killed to clog some fat kids arteries.

Ballsacks and weeners.

i am slowly slipping into a state of complacency, and im dreading it. i need to break these chains of acceptance, and strive for better.

complacency sucks dick.

hant-cuffd

There are more potholes
in this town

then happy people




So, it's like, let's broadcast every facet of our personal lives, everyday, let's bombard each other with all the details, let's leave nothing out, no stones unturned. everyone should care about every thing that is bothering me, everyone should know what makes me tick, everyone should know what color underwear im wearing, and what my insides look like.

Or, we can wake up every day, and do the same things that bring us such troubles and anger, and issues, and yet never question the repetitive nature of our lives, and we can just let everything engulf us, and beat us down, and ruin us.

Or you know, we could appreciate the fact that we DO wake up every day, and that we have the capacity to be able to find something wrong with everything, and then embrace the notion that we have the power to change our circumstances.

We could do that you know, or we could just stay unhappy and complain some more.

My grandma got Paris Hilton perfume for Jesus Cristos' birthday.


The weird thing is, it actually smells good.

I thought it'd smell like sweat, booze, cheap sex, and cigs, but in actuality it smells good.

damn you paris hilton, damn you!

what we dont know will hurt us.

condensation.

i clung tightly to the aqua tent. It provdided the only protection from the shitfuck combo of sleet beating mercilessly above our heads.

if he hadn't of taken that wrong turn at the light and then almost hit the old man, we wouldn't be here... " were her thoughts.

the lights of fires blazed in the backdrop of the night covered landscape. it was almost surreal, and neither of them had taken te LSD theyhad brought along yet.

mountains. mountains. mountains. more mountains. lake. mountains

how they ended up in some ridiculous, townhouse field on the edge of the forest, smoking meth with two teenagers wearing shitty band t shirts and talking as if they had transcended highness and were on the edge of heaven looking down and laughing at the entire world for not being in on it.

fuck that kid, his shirt sucked.

so did his house, and his meth. but there they sat, in the van, actually since they were idiots, on top of the van as some sort of weird sleet/hellfire combo rained down. aqua tent provided the only protection, and that in itself was laughable.

i was leaving him if we dont move to montana in the fall she thought..


to be continued

chapstik

Men

The night will go as follows...
fuck starry skies
fuck girls
fuck cops
fuckwet
fuck fall
fuck dark
fuck streets
fuck. fuck.

Bar Fight

FUCK THAT GUY
I hate him. Ill make fun of him all night, and shit, make him think im gonna kick his ass
"oh yeah?"

AND THEN HE'LL BE RIGHT, ILL WHOOP HIS FUCKING ASS

Manifest Ecstasy
I will never ask a question of myself I felt had no answer
shit.
answer,
shit.

my beer stained notebook.

ahh! adulthood.


Neustuff



Fear, Good God, Honest fear.


Hearing the city creak along at night,

well jesus, it's funny isn't it?

take a second to collect,

you walking in after a night of debauchery

jesus those 14 shots seemed so long ago.

did i really grope that?

pause, halt your smiles acension.

hear hear. the city, moaning. bleeding.

not sleeping.

the sirens in the distance

piercing the cool night sky.

home, and young.

home, and young.


To Do The Same Would be Doom

It's the same.

when im in my car. traffic.

same.

oh god, that feeling, of just compelte panic.

fear, anger, paranoia.

why am i wasting my life away?

shouldnt i, no i should i should
be doing

SOMETHING.


IWYTTIMUSOSOLZ

IN MY day, snow was snow

and when winter came, there wasn't guessing about if and when

it was when and when

mountains high, siberia in my backyard

slipping on ice, hating the cold.

god damned backstabbing bastard.


LOVES

when there's no way

to hide the desire

the one that burns, compels

fuels?

the one ,that makes you lightheaded

and just overwhelmed with giddiness

and delight upon one persons face

when you view them. when you view them

you melt. you love. you swell.

think of me,

sitting in front of this machine, with no deadline

and a flask almost certainley finished

now say, what do YOU think i wrote about
ps. john steinback,


A Letter To Ghosts.


Dear John,

Hanoi is great it is. Nights are awesome, lots of stars. sunrise, nice. sunset, perfect. people nice here, very accepting. they keep asking about you. i want to see you. as well.
plese respond, living is nice, but getting tough. fought 2 vagrants this morning. stabbed one. crazy. but, to get to the point, i need the cash. you owe me 56 bucks.

thanks

ps. young dreams, dont last forever. nothing does.


MOON\\

I shook the moon with my hand

and watched the majestic glitter

the reflection upon ocean current sky

i made it shimmer.
the night stayed true,.

revews

and it's weird.

all the leaves gone.

letting us see through the park, the landscape.

like a missle came, and ripped apart it's innocence.

we take what we can get.

who's to complain?

tonight i sleep above the creek.

i just want to forget.

convince myself it's really.

over.

skanks.

we're watching the leaves.

we're watching the trees.

we're watching the sky above, a river through the tree tops.

we're watching the drunk stumble in the city.

we're watching him.

we're watching the yards.

we're watching the clouds.

we're watching each other move away.

We're watching windows.

we're waiting.

Azure

I held in my excitement.

I sat and waited.

I no longer feel the need

if you have a need to, then you're missing the point.

it's gotta come naturally. it does

it still does.

Madrid, 1936

the bar was empty.

i didnt need company.

the smell is what i miss the most.

i welcome home with open arms.

for bleeding skies, and the sorrow of every cloud.

it bled on the alter, and i learned to forget.

the smell of fire, the rustle. the dark.

i missed it.

i welcome home now.

with open arms.

sleeping with both eyes open.

comfortable`

an ode to eve

every woman is built on a foundation of, pretty much suck.

you all do. you try to build a facade, a aura of right... the men you choose, the lives you lead, your daily actions.

all in an attempt by you, to do what's right for you. but upon review and analysis from outside sources, it sucks.

materialism. everyone woman, shallow.

and you are all so brain dead and mundane in your lives, it's downright sickening... you all settle for mediocrity labeled "ideal". wise up, raise up.

don't settle for trash. you are all worth better, all deserve it. even those who are cruel and whom karma would choose to be fed to sharks.

you deserve better.

don't settle for the asshole who calls you a dumb bitch, an asshole who is burdened by talking to you. assholes who lie cheat and treat you like a chore. assholes who don't appreciate, assholes who yell, scream, and fly off the handle over simple things. assholes who don't give you the time of day.

why lead that life? why chase?

is it because he's cute? because he looks good on your arm?

life isn't splendid when that's the case. any lifestyle characterized by that is ridiculous.

men aren't even worthy of you, so why lower yourself into mind numbing patheticness chasing something that will never afford you the same dignity and respect you deserve?

in a way women, you are my mortal enemy, and the most beautiful thing to grace my presence.

no excuse me, im going to turn homosexual and lock my self away due to embarassment, frustration and apathy.

i give up.

a collection of sexin' 1(one)

you'll never make it.

there's a song i think of when im anywhere

cold alone, fucked in the middle of chicago.

or cozy and warm in my bed.

it was a welcome feeling.

even when alleys threatened to harm me.

i didnt care.

winter was a son of a bitch.



Midtown

uptown was the makings of wealth

banks, apartments, sky scrapers, newspaper stands.

so i didnt visit much.

i was low-life, downtown type guy

never really acheived much

lackluster life style

the only thing involving me being a straight shooter

or having an aim that was true was

when id piss into stinkin gutters.

i got a postcard from Italy,

or shit, maybe Ibiza.

saving it.

saving it.

if i drink enough gin, it's the next best thing.


LaSalle.

i thought i was all used up.

i wasntso fuck.

the vcr is broken
i got a videotape
it's got memories, lots of em.

graduations, weddings, family reunions, baby video.
gone, if this fucking thing wouldnt work

tracking.

goddamn tracking.

an action packed duel with my vcr is what i enviosned on this summer afternoon.

Postcards.

Yes, I received your postcard.
No, it's not fine with me. (your decision with me)

but you do what you want, and as you please.
so who am i to interfer?

FINALE.

I watch conciensce and loyalty slip out of you.

like a gasp for air on the coldest winter day.

Cold and Early nights sometimes make it worthwhile

did you seriously just do that?

yes, not that you care.

JACKNIFE.

55.

like a dagger.

the entire state of central illinois.

stabbed.

bleeding, bled on the dagger, all the way until we found our way home.

three bottles, and two albums later.

we were back from where we started.

we where nowhere and it was good.

we needed to be somewhere, but were too late, we were sure.

but no one really cared any more.

no one really cared at all.

and driving home at 3 am, seemed to be

perfect.

"Agony, Always Agony"

if you want to make you'r life worthwhile and meaningful, read Bukowski.

whores, part one.

sometimes, when i read the bulletins of my peers, i feel like god must of before the destruction of sodom and gomorrah.

doctor, doctor.

you don't bathe tonight.
in the gulfs.
frost, but quiet confidence.

the girl over atop the cliff
selling faith for nothing and nothing less

abundance of overconfidence
and the sun will see you through.
once you thought you were safe
the moonlight.

and all the air is cool, and the world
is sleeping, calm, tranquil.

conscience will beg at your door.
and i hope your heart swells.

ill send Jorge over right away.