Wednesday, December 25, 2019

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.

Friday, December 13, 2019

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

----


Saturday, December 7, 2019

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.

Sunday, November 24, 2019

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

Sunday, November 17, 2019

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.

Tuesday, November 12, 2019

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.

Tuesday, November 5, 2019

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.