The Bastard Again

fucker, heathen, sinner
loser, bastard, winner

floating on wings made of luck

how can you not give a fuck?

did the world not bleed enough for you

did the blood not quench your fucking thirst

when the beeline formed to drink the blood of earth

with bloated belly, you were the bloody first

do your eyes still bleed tears or blood

does your mouth taste of coppery mud

does your hunger not fuck up your soul

and still you keep filling that hole

your face is now a bloody mess

for which sins now will you confess

now that things go from bad to worst

will your rotten core not burst?

---

Merry Christmas!

eat the blood

a shit eating grin

a scream 

a tongue 

snaking out

spilling poison words

venomous anonymous

what is real anymore

who murdered truth, justice, love

and other such afflictions

who will deny the answers

when the questions seems to change

transform with the seconds

break up and rearrange

till the broken finger is pointing back 

at you

bone stubs pierce the skin like pine needles

falling down in the endless snow

that covers up the sins that we don't know

in this frozen wasteland

we hurt each other

we bleed each other

we hate each other

we need each other

till my blood is in your mouth

and my mouth is filled with taste of copper

you look at me and smile

with blood in your teeth

---

nightmares about teeth

Angel Wings

teeth turned to embers

tongue turned to ash

thoughts turned to smoke

heart is an empty gash

the monster of flames

woke up sans a brain 

only the command module chittering

with orders obscene

to go find an angel

bring her to this scene

bathed in a beatific light

unaware of the upcoming plight

till the board is ready for her to rest

till her strength will be put to test

the hammer and nail

not ready to fail

toss, turn, flail

but the iron sparks down

whimpering on the board bleeding

eating fire, drinking smoke, pleading

till only a skull remains in the blazing heat

grinning it denies defeat

---

it never gets better, it only gers worse.

still alive

through the fire
through the flames
through the trials
through the games

still standing 

suffering cracks

blue and black

with understanding

crowbarred vision

forced to see

all the things

that could be

but never were

for want of 

one ingredient 

or ten

then the drums start to beat

a lonesome dirge

a howl 

a summon

gravel crunching 

under an arched foot

a gun shot

a whisper

a prayer

a promise from a fool

still alive