Thursday, September 29, 2016

chip away

the chisel of time
it never stops
it chips away
flesh from bones
feelings from thoughts
thoughts from memories
memories from stories
stories from fiction 
till there is left
only a core
the most basic instinct
an essence
as the seconds tick
through it
the clock is mad
so mad to find
there is something 
it can't chip away

Wednesday, September 28, 2016

slow madness

no one goes insane in a blink
it takes years of slow seepage
as words, thoughts, and memories build up
like cancer or water behind a dam
till one day the pressure gets too much and
something gives
something gives
then people say
then people talk
in microphones
and on TV
so and so was such a good boy
never hurt anyone
never said a bad word
did you know he used to collect stamps?
and volunteered at local pet shelter too?
but then, who knows why
he took a machine gun
and mowed down
a bus full of retarded school children
and then he put a bullet in his head
like it was nothing
but he was such a good boy
he was
never said a word
never spoke
just marinated in his own thoughts
like some kind of saint

Friday, September 23, 2016


Bolt my heart in my chest
The fucking thing wants to fly 
I've kept it rooted to me for so long
But fucker's got its eyes to the sky

Cage this engine in me
It's kept me alive for so long
But now it wants to be free
Warbling its own song

Wrap this chunk of flesh in blood
It's breathed a whiff of outside
Seen the sun, just for one
Second, now it doesn't want to hide

Now I sit wondering what I've done
While this demon in me goes for a run
Through my body my veins and my skin
This heart of mine won't stay within


Emo poetry. Internet can kiss my ass. 

Thursday, September 22, 2016


here we are again
my friend
words on the pages
words in the wind
digital detritus
words on my skin
words in my bones
virtual voodoo
words in my lungs
words on my tongue
binary benedictions
words from my eyes
words in my lies
cyberpunk circus
words words words
spinning in a circle
a medley of madness
incomprehensible mess
if i could, i would confess
to this fuckery
this perverted suckery
to make no sense
but just say things
where meaning is lost
like a child in a strip club
if i could, i would
shoot down a cherub 

Tuesday, September 13, 2016


i banged my head in a wall the other day
so hard i could hear the stars sing
they sang to me in french and latin
words i didn't know the meaning of

but the tune remains in my head
my head that hurts so much these days
i swear every time i close my eyes
i can see the fucking butterflies

they swirl around my head in a halo
of multi-colored wings, black feet
multi-faceted eyes, staring at me
judging, judging, judging

some days, i wish the butterflies would fly
away from here, away from my head
to leave me alone, to rot in my misery
so i can squeeze more poems from my existential dread

but my head is stacked with memories
boxes stacked with thoughts and feelings
sunsets, mornings, nights and a wish
a whiff of perfume locked in a safe
with a smile, an embrace, a kiss
double locked and chained, sealed with wax
i took a lick of the apple, how can i relax?

Sunday, September 11, 2016

I Had So Much Faith

I used to close my eyes
While walking driving sleeping
Through my life
Because I had faith
Some stupid faith
In immortality
That some engine
Worked in background
To let me keep
My beautiful face
I had so much faith

I was alone, so alone
That I latched on to any source
Of affection, attention
No matter how strange
No matter how unknown

I'd talk to strange drunk people
And random strangers in buses
To find some common thread of thought
Or some fucked up philosophy
That would make me believe
I was not so alone
However strange or unknown

I can harp on about the past
Keep on reminiscing to make the memories last
Singing the same song
Like a record on repeat
If I keep on keeping on
Maybe I can avoid defeat

My past is my monkey
And my future is my wraith
I can only pine for the time
When I had so much faith

Man, are Sundays depressing or what.

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

when Yig came back

Yig left the village ages ago
when he was just a boy
with a sandwich in one pocket
in the other, his favorite toy

that toy had an edge
truly sharp as fuck
and Yig used that little blade
to carve out his luck

he carved it in blood
in faces of scum
Yig left his mark
in the face of every bum

there was terror on the streets
in darkness Yig prowled
every time he cut another one
he licked his blade and howled

but then Yig went back to his village
cuz his mama was sick
there was nothing to hunt there
no prey he could pick

so Yig cut himself up
chopped his toes and fingers
they say he bled out in the river
but his ghost still lingers