i like certs

there is not enough blood to spill.
not enough air to breath.
not enough time to kill.
not enough thought to conceive.
vagary be my will
and set the fire to reprieve.
Warm the blade
storm the heart
burn the soul
death do I part.
blaze the saddles
on dead horses ride
the ghost in the meadow
the white's in my eyes
There's nothing to wake up to.
There's no one to say bye.

he turned the light off.

we all want to be wanted. an empty cardboard box an unpeeled orange.
The remnants left upon the ignorant's carnage. I haven't slept since the smoke cleared
 and waters parted. Last on the shelf at the back burner sale. silenced like the "E" at the end of the Dan's Quayle, i gave him a potato but he punched me in the stomach and bailed. My family doesn't value me. i used say it's cuz i was priceless but the truth behind the broken bulbs is that i can no longer fight this. and there was never a cavalry. Not a ghost, a whisper, a faint wind or a cloud. my vocal chord's out of tune and there's no light's allowed. The only reverb come's from the anxious nerves as the acidic bile is spilled outside this ghost town suburb. a colony of autonomy, the shadow of a dichotomy. there's a light on the hybrid but it dare not bother me. I'm going to the place where the needles are soft. Looking up from the bottom of the ocean the reasons stop. 100 more miles that i'm left to run, 93 million between what can't be undone. and i'm left with a nagging cough. tired of sitting alone collecting moths, so that light that i left has finally been turned off.

darkness doesn't stray.

in the absence of peace swarms of chaos hover. There is no eye to this storm. Blind destruction as clouds smother. The sky is falling, the souls ascend, time is stalling as fiction ends. A broken bottle, a barbed wire halo. Bleeding to death on the tail of a tornado. Sworn to secrets and burned by regrets the wreckage is massive, i'm cold with the sweats. Broke and in debt. Consumed by the moon an exhumed silhouette. When all hope is gone and it's too dark for dawn, i go with the ghosts away from the fire and waves on the coast standing upon what's left of the badly drawn map headed straight down the oceans throat. This fucking life is nothing but a goddamn severed limb rotting under a dying tree eating away at the dead skin. An out of tune mandolin strummed to the sound of a man chewin' ambien. This is the eternal sleep, the perpetual calm after the storm where the floods run deep.where the shoulders you cry on are colder than headstones where your loved one's weep. If death is my gift i got a short christmas list. a bottle of whiskey and 100 pills in my fist.