April 2013
3 posts
Slug life
January 2013
6 posts
Fuck me
One time in the middle of the shit I played Venus in Furs so many times in a row I forgot my own name I ordered Jimmy Johns after I’d been slicing the shit out of my chest with a razor and the scars are still here five years later and I answered the door with blood dripping down my chest and the delivery girl didn’t really understand what was going on and asked “that’s not...
Marion
She went back to Italy, gave away all her paintings, equipment, books and what nots. She went back to that restaurant on the hill in Naples and sat there for endless hours for a week, looking at Vesuvius, Capri, the bay, the sky, trying, with the desperation of the dying, to reawaken those old feelings, trying with jewels of sparkling wine to rekindle the flame that half fired her imagination just...
Raise them with sorrow
Drugs and death and girls are the only parts of the song
Cinder blocks stacked on yesterdays tile
Dirty leaves scattered into a cold breath of Fall
Yet all that I seem to think is wrong is not
The times that have seared to my soul
Bring a smile
A small damp cotton of sorrow
Through which I draw up thoughts of tomorrow
Thoughts on Oscar Wilde
The Portrait of Dorian Gray is waking up unchanged
While your true self stares from a canvas
None of the guilt, depravity, or shame leaves a line on your face
Your soul resides in paint
The storm you sow on your loves
The pain you cut into tar and plunge into depths through scars
Reaps nothing but snow in their hearts
Cold flakes that breed like doves and take flight in their minds
Until...
Beauty?
The pumped and fruited smell of insomnia raises from the skin above one thousand knotted muscle fibers, distilled, soaking down to the bone that wishes it could unsnap itself back into the sweat wrung from the cloth night wove when stars broke up enough to spell out hormone signatures. In this body that betrays me, i drink beer in calculating mug swallows, gagging, coughing at the foam which dried...
87 the existence of positive
An apron while my arm bleeds
from the grease bouncing off the griddle
A disguise at best
The steps are obnoxiously loud and anything that goes
to twelve
is bound to bring me back to the confirmation
of infinite nothing
Sentiments breed
Loathing
I’ll break out in needles
from an allergy?
I’ll break out a shell into my head
from solution
You know me
December 2012
1 post
Shapeshifting albino lizard bitches
The phantom shotgun
Under my chin
is Shiny
She smells like dried blood
That lady behind me in line
Staring
Better pray that
the next shell
is for me
November 2012
1 post
Liquid sleep in my arms
That thought when you know the only reason you haven’t put a bullet through your head is because then you couldn’t get high anymore.
October 2012
1 post
Untitled 77
The only way out is through the very hole I have discovered in myself
Plugging the whole of my arm
With my belt
September 2012
3 posts
Death of Sylvia Plath
A voice like a selected weapon. A measured injection.
May 2012
7 posts
Poem
The people down The hallway who Stab each other Each Friday night… Is that a ritual Or just something terribly unresolved?
-Jim Carrol
tumblrbot asked: WHAT IS YOUR EARLIEST HUMAN MEMORY?
Untitled 13
I’m barely a shiver passing through your nerves Lasting shorter in your feelings Than the cigarette in your mouth Your my razor I’m a shiver For now
Autumn frosts have slain July
I’ll make you lick my injuries
April 2012
9 posts
Untitled
Selfish departure through blue lips and stiff arms. Deceived by syringes through attraction and devotion although nothing remains and complaints go unanswered.
Awakened to a body of soul-less emotion and your neon veins pulsing with scars. My influence on the escape of your mind to this numbing location. Perfectly far.
Ever since I sleep to your absence.
The point of deflation is close.
My...
SoulFuck
Flayed soul dripping from sickness losing steam breathing green desired empathy. Two knives in a stairway conjure blood on the bottom tiles.
Honeytree evileye Shadowblood firedoor
One more high decay my nervous
Drinking from light sockets
Light socket tears a blue trail through the air into my teeth. Reminders of the static in the atmosphere during the seconds before tornados snow into my veins. I tell myself the name I’m called in my dreams is only a chemical reaction based upon thought processes of children learning to fight.
Check the time.
4:73am
Consciously this makes sense to the wolves that roam the alleyways of my...
Untitled 7
Storms comin Kill empathy Autumn frosts slain July Underneath and nearby Bleeding rafters I am indeed The cold you bleed Drown my empathy Cold darkness Empathy She can see Below the nearby aftermath The past bleeds Behind the pulp The future breathes Empathy
