This Bitter Chill

i walk into this home. this bitter chill. The sentimental tone. the air is distilled. the pretentious greet, the obligation. The none too discreet, the stated observations. The obvious lingers in ignorant's echoes. The body is in it, but the soul it won't let go. The fire since kindled into a pool of ash. The ghosts they all mingle at the sight of the crash. And you want to believe that there's meaning and substance, that there's growth and abundance but the sun soon sets as the hope dies in dozens.
Life is a murder and god left the scene as we lay in millions, can't count on our dreams. He slaughtered the sheep, and now we can't sleep. blood in the sockets, the lint from my pockets and the thoughts that won't stop it. The flood's on its way. But you can't clean secrets, don't ask where i keep it. Won't find where to bleach it cuz the stain shall remain. I walk from this house, no bags on my arm. No looks over shoulder, no good luck charm. Free from the pageant, the lonely and stagnant. Free from constriction to complete my submission.My eternal inscription. There's no more prescription. No vulnerable convictions, no feigning descriptions of an ideal non fiction.
now  I walk from this road with no shadow in tow, no weeping willow. No feet swing below. i walk a free man, a being, a soul. From beatings i go. From seedlings i grow.

he walked away

follow the shadows into the abyss. Off the cliff, rocks soaked in mist as water and your body hit. 

The splash deflecting off the gull's wing tip as the horizon and skyline split. Split in two, dichotomous, the fable and the baby blue. i thought it was through. Paul bearers carried my memory of you in to the forest of ghosts where all was eschewed. My path was renewed and my conscience was clear. Now the shadows are my walls and the echoes are my ears. Beneath the fallow soil as the sun eviscerates the clouds. burning flower pedals sending life back to the ground.

Manipulate the past just to justify your future as you stipulate the facts into parables to suit ya' . I'm not what they thought, i'm a glitch in the computer. A wrench in the cog, i'm a knife that'll shoot ya' . But i took the high roads where the sky goes, To a place that only i know. You were buried in my memory and burnt by happy pyros. And as i'm resting peacefully where the shaded trees lay, i still hear you call my name since you made me walk away. i feel tremors from your blame but i've cleaned all the stains. I'm at the bottom of the top but i can't complain. Happy as a meadow giving life her terrain. he walked away from life to rise once again. 

out of chances....

my best chances have gone down the drain like tears in blood stains. Hanging my head in a cold shower looking at it all fall apart, the linoleum is giving me a concussion, my face and wall the percussion. now my skull broke a pipe and there's a leak and a massive eruption of blood and defeat. Where will i eat? where will i lay and hear the floor boards creek? where will i have a seat that's not cushioned by cardboard and concrete?  Where will the spark and engine meet? or will it be the steel and the vain that make the cycle complete. Inside my mind is a dangerous landscape. land mines and the strangest people with secret handshakes. ive got a stomach ache and a loose canon aimed at my own face. I don't know the password and they're about to amputate. Sever my mind from my body and set me free into a maelstrom of all the racing thoughts that fell off track in a hailstorm , dejected memories come crashing at my feet, i know i failed lord. Let me slip through the cracks with broken shadows and slide under the tombs of the pharaohs to a place where hopes and dream congregate. let it be my resting place. My respite from the python necklace that gripped my throat from birth all the way to this morning's breakfast. My best chances have sailed into the dead river. I hang my head beneath the branch and close my eyes forever.

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.

dead, rivers

my posture has sunk. They set fire to my sail. I'm capsizing in the dead sea. The only thing living is me. I'm surrounded by ghosts, demons and smoke. The night fell before day ever broke. And my pain isn't just pretty words to sadistic eyes.  my smile isn't happiness, i just became the disguise. My hope cannot float in a sea in which i wrote, For I've known all along that hope is a hoax. A bent card in the spokes. humming an anecdote about a boy jumping rope. No one on either end. That's how its always been. i finally see the truth as the fog ascends.......And through the years of pain i escaped, by writing words. From the worst i was deterred. i escaped my darkest days. But i see what lie's a head and I've no more words to say.....