Little Darling

we don't see eye to eye at times
when you are not looking through my eyes
i ignore you, leave you alone
in dark rooms and lonely places
but i remember you
you are always in my mind
in the little steel room in my head
you are banging your fists at the walls
till the metal dimples outwards
like warts on diseased skin
and you call out my name
you scream, yell, and whisper to be let loose
i hold on
but sometimes the walls are thin
and your whispers reach through
like a prayer of the dying
or the already dead
is there really any difference?
in the darkness I can see
your smile all teeth
getting stronger, wickeder
ready to explode
one of these days
i could listen to the songs
read the words of hate
think up scenarios that give me peace
but nothing and nothing at all
compares to the maddening visions
you put in front of me
let go, you urge
as i choke on my own vomit
as my doubts grow
about my sanity
or the rest of the sinless world
you touch me like a lover
you hate me like a mother
my heart beats within your fist
my breath filters through your lungs
my words bleed through our intertwined tongues
there is no rest
sleep is a fool's promise
there will be enough time to sleep
once we are done with the world
little darling.

----
Some carry their demon, others are carried by their demons. Same coin, different sides.

fistful of love

love is a fist
of a thousand fingers
with strength enough
to grind stars to dust
spread it all over
the corpses of those
who dared to lust
in this cosmic gamble
what is wrong
what is just
when the seas can change
with a gust
of wind that never learned
to flow like water

----

demon eaters

on nights like these
someone gets stabbed after a party
while their blood flows
in the same gutter that someone pukes in
after having a drink or thirteen
and another man is ready to drive
to another party
too drunk to drive
or realize
that driving
is not a good way
to spend the next half hour

on nights like these
someone howls at the moon
from a rooftop
where the remains of the evening
smoulder like embers
of a love that is thrown carelessly
like a bottle that breaks on the cobblestones in the street
someone yells at the revellers
to let them sleep
and they yell back to relax
tomorrow is Sunday after all
or is it today
no one cares and no one knows

on nights like these
time blurs as hand of clock race
towards daylight
and the music is not loud enough
hearts are not broken in shards enough
there is still hope that someone can glue that fucking piece of shit together again
for three hundred and sixty seventh time

on nights like this
sin is in and we
dream of clinging to each other
glued by sweat, spit and semen
eat each other's demons
from without and within

--------------
You are what you eat.

algorithm

the algorithm tells me
what to do
what to eat
when to sleep
whom to love
it tweaks itself according to
my tastes
my whims
my fancies
and my browsing history
it sometimes asks me
if i want to buy something
that i had only thought about
or saw in a dream
(i could scream)
the algorithm guesses
whom I should fuck
or who should fuck me
the algorithm decides
who the fuck
will get to ring my bell
perhaps one day it will
tell me to
go and fuck myself

rage and anger

when the fingers forget
the heart remembers
and the words flow
uninvited, unencumbered
a small river of hate
that moves like a snake
through every day that threatens
to suck all joy out of every breath
but the river is determined too
leeching drops of venom, bile, rage
from the mundane and the ordinary
never stagnant, always flowing

when the mind and heart are fucked
it's easy to hate everything

who the fuck wants peace
who the fuck wants to be happy
who the fuck wants to be perfect
who the fuck wants to be complete

not you
not me
-----
Love fades, but anger is forever.

little brittle

pieces of me
pieces of you
never to fit
a jigsaw of shards
so we cut our fingers
bleeding on the floor
through red and silver
our haunted eyes stare
back at us but
with a tinge of hope
which is the scariest thing
to see in someone's eyes
somewhere the shards come together
to show us tainted visions
it's only us
cracked and broken
hoping

---
fuck.

the edge

the bitter edge of silence
is the taste of dead oil in my mouth
choking and smothering me
making me dream of free air
grit my teeth so hard
i fear i'll break my jaw
making the silence potent
the violence of zipped lips
now there is no eye contact
the world over your left shoulder
is more interesting than
anyfuckingthing you have to say
all this while the demons wait
as hate bubbles in the cauldron of the heart
ready to cook whatever the fuck
they can get their hands on

-----
you don't need talent if you are pissed enough.

the taste

when the synapses fire
fueled by demented desire
there is some rearrangement that is bound to happen
when the colors take on a different meaning
the words don't smell like they should be
the taste, though, that still lingers
a memory wrapped inside a memory
locked tight, burning bright
a vision from a fever dream
too much would kill you fucker, a voice whispers
who's afraid of death then, the answer
to the question that was never asked
but all the cards on the table
everything on the line
and the mouth floods up
on the memory of a taste
a shiver down the spine
a sigh
a gulp
a thirst
never quenched...


///////
i could bite the face of god today.

sad songs and mad visions

some things are too sacred to write about
there is a risk that the magic
will leak out into the world

so i hoard the memories
like a jealous dragon sitting on a pile
of scents, tastes, and words

of sad songs that cut through
harsher than the bitter cold winds
of moments that slip through my claws

so i sit on this treasure
waiting for a glow, a sound, a twinkle
of a star in an endless night

----
<3 p="">

and then...

a song comes on the random playlist
something that i did not even know
that i wanted to listen

and the fucker digs in like a stake
impaling me to the bed of memories
to be repeatedly fucked

not saying that i hate it
but it's not the enjoyment i'd prefer

---
let's scream together.

there is

there is a poem inside me
a virus, an alien thing
squirming, suffering,
seeking a way out
i close my eyes and i
can see this gargantuan thing
rise up from the seas
of my thoughts
like an angry god
that is pissed
at being woken up
from an ancient slumber
and now it slouches towards the cities of my mind
ready to destroy, to make it all one with the dust
or maybe it is just looking for coffee
one would never know
because this thing is almost here
slow thrashing wading through murky waters
yelling an incomprehensible litany
of mistrust and paranoia
shaking off dreams from the dreads
that are lodged like snakes
in its ugly head
it thrashes and smashes
structures to the ground
and the dust that rises
obfuscates my vision
my meaning
my dreaming
and i lie
oh i lie
in a fetal position
wishing it to be over
while it has only just started

jigsaw

bitter and caustic
vile sarcastic
pieces and pieces
that do not fit
splayed like a corpse
on a table of cold steel
dead inside
still able to feel
the pieces rearranged
still do not fit
carve out some more
polish a bit
jiggle it together
hammer it in
break it and shake it
and hammer again
mutation on a cellular level
the dead is not the living
the living are the dead
all of them crowd around
a table in my head
shall we play cards now, one says
but every card is a joker
so they all laugh

-----
If you met every you, every version of you, would it be a fun meeting?

endthebadlands - seven

as i write this letter, dear mother
I do this with a heavy heart
for the impossible has happened
i seem have lost my brother
he is gone, like he was never here
i woke up one morning
feeling scared
like a part of me was ripped from me
felt like a song without a melody
and all i could think of was
writing a letter to mummy
i don't know where he is, mother
he is gone, perhaps to find his own path
but i know i will see him once again
i know because i have done the math
the stars are not aligned for us right now
we are bound to be lost for a little more time
but i will find that idiot and bring him home
and then, mother it will all be fine
we'll be fine mother
now only if i could
find my way out of these badlands
i will end this missive now
for i see a girl on a dune up ahead
with a jug of water at her hip
and I am so thirsty
oh so thirsty

------
the end

loved it? hated it? be a gent and leave a comment ;)

8adlandsthein- IIIIII

a legit bitch she was
but then again
can you really trust a girl
you met in the desert?
It's alright brother,
you did good
by chopping her up
like you should
now we have to find her mouth
in all these pieces
because the fucking thing
won't stop whispering
and it's driving me insane
it is, oh
we need to bury her pieces
as far away from each other
as we can
we'll drop them in holes
along the way
to wherever we go next
you can drop that axe now, brother
it is done
but one thing is sure
while it lasted
it was fun
these badlands are getting to me brother
i feel feverish, lost, without hope
and when i look in this mirror
i see your face superimposed on mine
are we one or are we two
am i me or am i you
i have no ability to puzzle this out
so let us go
you and i
to spit into
this desert's eye

eendiebaadlandz - V

...and this little piggy went to the market
to buy a shotgun and some shells
to deal with the wolf when it came
and rang the piggy's doorbell

...and this little pigg...
Oh, brother, you are here again
I was just telling our friend the stories
of our ancient gods and how they defeated
the enemies that came to their doors
you remember the legends right?
i am so happy we met this young lady
even though I thought she was a mirage
did you try the grapes over there?
they will burst in your mouth with juices
Yes, yes, she is very much real
I have counter her fingers and her toes
Her feet are also pointed
in the right direction
there is no need to worry, brother
she is as legit as they come
Right, Peisinoe, darling
Won't you sing that song for my brother
that you just sang for me
it was so sweet and melodious
like a fine wine
I got drunk on your voice
and maybe I am still drunk
I probably am
but who want to come down
from a high so beautiful?
My brother, sure
Such a party pooper
What are you doing with that axe, man?
You need to stop and drop it right there
before you hurt our pretty friend
that blade looks pretty sharp to me
where did you find an axe in this desert?
Alright, now you need to stop
for real

oh
oh
Oh no
ow, motherfucker

iNTH3b4dland5 - 4

my digital gods have abandoned me
in this desolate land
where hope comes to die
to slit her wrists in the bathtub of a
no name B&B

Oh, brother, here you are
I apologize, I was talking to myself
I sometimes do this when I am hungry
How many days have we been lost here?
Do you see the lights there?
Is that a town we see?
Have we finally found our way out
Of this spiral of bullshit?

No
No
No
Another mirage
No

Is that a babe there?
In desert garb, eyes like jewels
Has to be another mirage
A sand siren lulling us to our demise
She's pretty though
Shall we go and talk to her?

IntheBadLands-3

Brother, hand me your knife
Walk behind me
Keep your hand on my shoulder
And follow

What strange place this is
these creatures unlike any i have ever seen
or even dreamed of
and I have dreamed of some weird shit, brother
they look like melting nightmares
where teeth sprout where they may
their skin shifts and moves
giving way to bones and hair
internal organs exposed to open air

you think that thing is edible?
maybe I can kill it for its meat
we've been lost in these dunes for days
and on my mother, i am hungry
no fruits here that we can eat
only this strange nightmare meat
perhaps it will not make us sick
now we only need to pick
which animal will sate our hunger

any idea where these dunes end
have we been walking in circles all these days
maybe we should point into a direction and start walking

In the Badlands - 2

These dunes, they stretch for miles eastward, the guide says
There are strange creatures prowling these sands
They will rip the skin from your bones
They will curdle the blood in your veins

That's pretty scary, isn't it, brother?
We really don't want to go to the dunes
Let's heed to the warnings of this pretty guide
Who happens to be quite intelligent too

Pray tell us, dear guide
Where we can find some monkeys to feed
For me and my brother, we are hungry
And looking for some adventure too.

What kind of monkeys, you ask?
Well, any kind would do, but we would
Prefer those that eat peanuts
Possibly those that don't hurl feces at us either

We have traveled far and wide
Hearing stories of the city of monkeys
Where they snatch peanuts from your hands
Where they dance on two tails for measly peanuts

We want to see that dance
Me and my brother
For we have traveled from far away
But I've told you that already

To the east you say?
Over those sands?
It will take many days?
We can find supplies there?

Did you hear that brother?
The city is there, eastward
Just past those dunes
Shouldn't take us long to travel them

So shall we go?

----
Fuck, here we go again. 

in the badlands - 1

these bricks have my fingerprints on them, brother
and we are back here looking for something
that we did not find when we were here last time
but the search shall continue

do you remember when we saw
a monkey in a cage here
angry and raging
it would not stop screaming
that was some day
we tried to feed the monkey
but it would only throw the peanuts
back at us, all while screaming monkey insults
isn't it great that we are not fluent in monkey?

the dust is still a mad dervish here
scraping dreams from the eyes of believers
do you see them now? faithless and lost
waiting for the sands to swallow them
you want to throw some peanuts at them?

it's hilarious, isn't it, brother?
all these lost people
looking for things
that they should not be looking for?
hilarious every time
oh, and why were we here again?
did you just throw a fucking peanut at me?
motherfucker.

views

the aspect of caring
falls into the regions
of nonchalance
there is only a sad grin
floating into space
as words disappear
who gives a fuck
about the views of another
when the distractions are aplenty
who the hell wants to bother
with the poison of another mind
the stress and the tension
the daily drudgery of life
do not even mention
let's just shut the fuck up
stare into the ceiling
for hours that never end
and wait for the end

-----
Ah, fuck.

scratch the surface

wait for 2 AM
for what is sleep?
but an inconvenient gap
in this cycle of familiarity
even if a full day ahead
waits already with glint in its eye
with a knife hidden in a sweaty fist
it could go either ways
it knows as well as I do
but what fun is a day
without a few scratches
or some wounds to show for it
every day the scabs open
like doors to the temple
of some ancient deity
reverently we rip them off
consumed by a fervent piety
no matter how much we scratch
how much we bleed
it's only the surface
the wounds go too deep
perhaps now
it's time to sleep

the melt

numbers and figures
thoughts and emotions
anger and frustration
right here in this melting pot
days blur into a blue nothing
dead signals obstructing conscious thought
patterns emerge only to scamper away
like scared animals into dark forests
these threads are too many to hold on to
they unravel through slippery fingers
till there is nothing left
but the smoke from the burning of something great
so breathe, breathe, breathe in
and hold.

the melt is here to stay.

the fear

if some day
a strange man knocks on my door
all dressed in black and tells me that
sir, it's all over
the curtain call is here
time to call it a day
we are going to take you away
there is a fat lady standing in the street
and that bitch is dying to sing

if some day
a minor god crawls out of its cave
appears hovering above my head
slams down on my shoulders
weighing me down
it whispers in my ears
all the times that I fucked up
and smiles while telling me
of every single fucking failure

if some day
a whale floats up from the sea
flying high in the sky
following me
like a dark cloud
and sings to me
the song of its people

if some day
the rat of fear and misdeeds
finally burrows into my head
to eat all my memories
the rhymes and untold stories
and then dares to beg for more
with bloodstained whiskers

if...

lost poems

words 

written in 

drafts

old notepads

pages yellowed 

ink faded

forgotten tattoos

on ancient skin

phantom memories

muddled

by the passage of time

these words

yours or mine?

Submerge

the wheel turns
so do we
tied to the spokes
with strands of misery
paper thin prisons
created in the mindfields
now trap all those
who once dared to dream
the future is a maniac
with a bared grin
streaked with blood and guts
of the animal called the past
the present is a lead weight
weighing us down
sinking us with all the mass
into the depths of our sin
but it's cool at the bottom
even if the pressure is immense
there is no escape from this
when the ocean is in my own mind
so breathe and breathe in deep
right before you sleep
remember
remember

Demon Box

It spins on a random axis
balanced on top of a pyramid
floating angrily in space
like the fist of a demented god

veins cover the surface
slipping and sliding in changing patterns
that make sense only to those
who are fucked in the head by chaos

Waves transmutate from the structure
spreading a fear, palpable and real
it burrows into the hearts of stars
causing necessary implosions

this here is the demon box
finally freed from its cage
and now the demons roam
maddened by an endless rage

the sentinels

dark monoliths
stand guard
sentries to the unknown
they stood their ground once
against the hordes that came
for their gods and their beliefs
that have now vanished into ash
the skies once blue
are jet black and morose
no starlight to guide any path
that anyone would dare walk
and in the silence when the wind whispers
the old words that were once spoken
to make the sentinels move
that today fall on deaf ears

And I Pray

Not a religious man
But some days I too
Close my eyes
Fold my hands
Whisper prayers to
Any god that will listen
Beg and plead
With voice quaking
In need of direction
Some source of action
But all I hear is static
Perhaps all gods are dead
Perhaps they ignore me
Just like everyone else
And I fall fall fall
Deeper, sinking into the mire
Till all that remains
If a pair of folded hands
Above the scum of the earth

----
Dead gods don't get signals through.

cinders

blessed are those that do not feel
the need, the lust, the hunger
perhaps they are cursed too
inert in their satisfaction

there is a always a price to pay
we all choose our sacrifice
when the cinders are flamed to life
framed by a blood-streaked grin

perhaps this dream will never end
there will be no awakening
the planet will cease to spin
like the hands of a broken clock

and then a hammer will fall
to strike down the unbelievers
but will it be that impressive
if there is no one there to feel it?

----
Look, we are in this together and I am not done yet.

crevice

fragmented fever dreams
slip and slide
through the playground mind
makes no sense
no rhyme
a bored dystopia
another day another pain
from something that is yet
unreal
and so it will remain
the zombies shuffle
necks bent and fingers sticky
sliding on drool slicked screens
searching for new dreams

choler

here's something for you to wear
it's nothing complex, just a mask
to cover the mask that you wear
hide yourself well, so they can't tell
how you feel underneath your skin
the face you were given
isn't that a mask too?
How are you feeling today?
How are you really feeling today?
Is everything okay?
Does it hurt anywhere?
Are you scared?
Relax
Pull this mask over your head
Everything is alright
Breathe in and breathe out
No need to fight

Go
With the flow
You know?

----
Imagine Pacman, but with teeth!

calescence

in the pit of your stomach
at the bottom of your soul
a heat grows
till it's uncomfortable
then morals defenestrate 
ego crawls back in its hole
and what's left is
a naked need
that's all
after the aftermath
pick up the wilted pieces
to build the walls
once more
till it's time
to break them down

-----
A study in our sins.

cleave

conversations dwindle
lines of communication grow slack
only words that do the needful
all others are kept back (by choice)

we fill our heads with noise
our eyes with bright colors
to stave off the cleaving
that's stressing the cracks (that no one mentions)

maybe we were born with these imperfections
perhaps we picked them along the way
now the glue that held the pieces together
is drying and flaking off at the seams (whispered screams)

every night we suffer the dreams
of what could have been or how it should be
the world is not a hell hole yet
but it's on its way

----
The c-train continues. Are you having fun yet?

cerulean

look up
raise your digits to the sky
hands folded in prayer
waiting for signals
that will show you a path
waiting for the answers
to the questions you have asked
but the blue skies
are just that
chill in their silence
while the vines crawl up your spines
the green rust curdles your blood
the leaves take over your skin
till you are nothing
but antennas
raised to indifferent skies
waiting for signals
that will never come

----
No answers, man. There are none.

cacodoxy

there was a theft yesterday
some fool raided the wind-chime shop
and stole as many as he could
in a tinkling mass of wood, steel, and strings
they can still here him walk away
when the wind blows in their direction
and even though he is long gone
the memory of the theft remains
like a ghost stuck in the mortal realm
bitter and caustic
gnashing at hands that might help
twinkling like an angry star
on a moonless night

Clang

Keep digging, brother

There is a lot that needs to be found

All these rhymes and poems

Left buried in the ground

When the spade hits the metal

Sounds like love or a battle

Forces that meet and mesh into each other

Raise your spade, keep digging brother

Maybe one day we will find 

The holy grail that we seek

The answers of a golden mind

Inheritance of the meek

But that day is not today 

Today we dig for words

That flutter at each clang

And fly away like birds

------

Some poems you write, others you dig from the ground. Like potatoes. 

Closing Time

ten more minutes, sir.
only ten till you can dance
after that it's closing time
we have to shut the music down
the music is already low
mired in the deep yellow glow
of a muted room where
we throw words at each other
our fingers dance
as they forge
into territories unknown
while we sit alone
in different corners of this room
five more minutes, sir
after that you must leave
look at this audacity, you sigh
can you even believe?
are we bound by distance
or concepts of time?
i smile and say nothing
for this question needs no answers
not for our kind of dancers
when the clock hits the time
the room freezes
as you move the minute hand
ten minutes behind
there is still time
to closing time
shall we dance some more?

concupiscent

sit here and burn, commands desire
as the film of memories plays inside closed eyes
did it really happen or does the patina of time make it look unreal
how many stars had to implode
for our paths to cross
for a space of few hours
now a supernova glow
bathes every
concupiscent dream
sending shivers through my spine
while the world fades
away

conundrums

what is beauty
but an opinion
what is truth
but a belief
who knows how the gears grind
except that we know they grind
who has the full picture
except a few that do not mind
but even they would not be able to
build a civilization from dust
it's a collective effort of many
we all know a little something
each adding our own piece of jigsaw
to complete a picture
that we cannot even see in full

castle

the paraphernalia of my destruction
collected it from the garbage dump
of my mind
the pieces once discarded and left to rot
now form the foundations of the castles
that i draw the blueprints for
the final structure will skew and bend
it will lean and groan and fall in the end
but that will be by design
that will be the beauty of knowing
the ultimate truth
all these crumbling castles
some in better shape than others
one day
they will all be dust

Murderous

a broken thing
left alone
in the cobwebs and shadows
it stirs
with dying memories
of a smile
that once set the world afire
the strings that bind it
to the smoke of suffering
are fragile and frail
like promises and prayers
but escape is not even a concept
that swims through the waters of her mind
chains of sorrow and regret
painfully bind
every thought
of freedom

=-=-=-=-=-=
There are things in the shadows. 

slither

"same cross, different nails"



we are prophets of gibberish
we are saints of sincerity
we are bringers of anxiety
and half-baked truth
we slither out of our shells
like ancient beings woken up
by the alarm of the suffering
caused by our dreams
every movement lethargic
cogs falling into gears
that spin without ease
of an ancient grease
their stench seeps in our skin
in our eyes and our teeth
in our hair and our eyes
and our words and our lies
they will hang up there
on the crosses and the beams
words that spill from our lips
will rust through their screams

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
It's rare to be able to tap into something horrid and attempt to describe it on the page. Even failure in such an attempt is a glorious finale.

A Hate Letter

the dog in my heart
barks all day
cries all night
it has teeth fit for claws
it only wants to bite
the dog never sleeps
even when I do
it runs wild in my dreams
it only wants to fight
some days the dog is silent
some days the dog is violent
i move to the growls of this dog
my face wrapped in a frown
i wish i had the guts
the guts
to put this fucker down
----
Some poems you write, other poems you puke out because your system cannot keep it in.

bitter

bitterness manifests
in the strangest ways
swallow the pain
aftertaste stays

glue that smile again
for another day of grace
wash it off every night
reveal a tired face

days bite off chunks
from the meat of the soul
till all that's left is a gaping
angry black hole

eat and eat again
feed the monster everything
but its hunger legendary
for the bitter seeds of pain

----
Have you ever wanted to scream?

Rictus

inside

we all grin

wrapped up in skin

the sum of our sin

inside 

we all steal 

moments that slip

from our fingers

inside 

we all feel 

feelings uncalled for

in any time and age

inside

we all die

every day

killing ourselves to live

lashes

the flowers of noise bloom
                                                                         in the corners

of my room


empty ghosts            staring silently

    vacant eyes

painful dread





all my life i have

lived only in my





head

shards

words...shards
pierce through skin
they fester
you dig
they go deeper
removal?
impossible
chew on the aftertaste
bitter, bitter, bitter
---
I don't always post drafts, but this one has been lying in that folder for ages now. 

The Victim

if you looked at the knives in his back
buried deep with edges so fine
you'd want to change his name
to Mr. Pommel Porcupine

he is the victim, crouching
in the pool of his own tears
the water is now dirty and cold
ripples rending reflection unclear

he tries to reach for the knives
at least he pretends to do so
the look in his eyes is pleading
his wounds never stop their bleeding

does he seek sympathy?
pieces of silver, or time?
the teeth are filed on the piece of shit
that we called the Pommel Porcupine

-----
The potential to rage tirelessly is strong with this one.

cannibal love

a shy gravity
that pulls at our skin
till sinews and marrow start
to revolve around each other
like snakes in heat
the beat of our hearts is out of sync
creating a music
that only we can hear
like drums at a ritual sacrifice where we
cut the heads of all sense and logic
for what did they ever give us?
but doubt and pain
and we eat the brains of our enemies
sitting on our haunches
laughing
in the light of the fires
burning
with flames that lick the moon
but it's alright, you touch my face and tell me
everything is in tune
----
Have you ever wanted to scream? Did you?

drugged on punishment

Hark the bite of winter
Fangs dripping blood of sinners
Intolerable and unforgiving
Punishment seeps in deep tissue

The pain it hits
Like an off-market drug
You are out of your body
Floating on thoughts

You view yourself from above
Writhing like an animal
Trapped in the paroxysm
Of an alien passion

Then comes the silence
In the aftermath of violence
You watch the magic leak
From the bones of the world
-==-=-=-=-
Alien visions of a world traumatized by pain and lust. The hunger that sits in the pits of their bellies, snakes unfurled and ready to strike down those who disobey. There is nothing sacred, there is no truth. There is only what we do and how we suffer.

And of course, I love you. 

regurgitator

all wisdom is a reflection
on the dirty glass of self
chew shit and spit shit
that's all there is to it

regurgitator
motherfucker
did you ever
think a single new thought?

words strung in a dirty litany
plagiarized emotions
tedious contortions
do you even know the meaning of the shit you preach?

the sound coming from your face
is only noise without meaning
even you would hate yourself
and then think that it's demeaning
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Just getting it all out of my system.

Hang on, or don't.

The Eerie Sound of a Dying Heart

It's a mess
a royal mess
feelings and concocted emotions
clamped and shut in a fuckin drum
snowflakes falling
on a lost battlefield
bones broken like promises
litter all that once was
painted in shades of black and purple
lost prayers to a dying sun
the army of souls crowds the passage
to above and below
angels weep
demons howl
death walks
in a crimson cowl
he reaches through
through and through
time and memory
to shake your fucking hand

---
got a beehive in my bonnet, motherfucker.

remains

what is left to say now
when all is said and done
bartered tears, still bitter
fall like acrid bile

the lack of words is peaceful
a void muttering dirges
a cacophony of disgusting sounds
the tides bring forth only bad news

a murder of crows circles the skull
a crown of black menace
screaming at everything in the world
gloomy feathers stick to face

the rage is vomit that threatens to spill
through whatever exit it can find this minute
but clamped shut, giving no fucks
till critical mass implodes this structure

silence

should have barb-wired my lips ages ago
what use are the words that fall on deaf ears
when the meanings change, re-arrange
depending on what they want to hear

should have plugged my ears with wax
what fun in listening to sermons
that make sense only in a make-believe world
while reality gnaws on the edges of the sanity

should have broken my fist long ago
before it became an accusing finger
to point at the logic they never understood
now the words forgotten, bitterness lingers

silence is golden, it costs the same too
now the silence eats me from inside
on the surface everything is calm
on the inside, I scratch the wounds raw
-\-
let it all out, right?

New year,  new fear.