A Rope

Pull taut my sadness
As if it were a noose
Tied to hang me dry
Let my feet dangle
And swing all about
I will kick and scream
But do trust me now
I know what is best 
Let my mind hang on
Till my sight goes blue
I don’t want to fight
This sulking sadness
Any longer now.


Crawl Right In

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Sit down beside me you fool
Oh I’m begging you please
I know you so and you’ll be
Happy to try and get inside
So I might be inclined
To just this once, say yes
Open up my head now
Peer deep down
And crawl far within
So your journey will begin

Go to my sadness
And dip your feet in
Swim around the deepest
Dark blue pool of sorrow
But don’t get too immersed
And climb the steepest
Mountain of tomorrow’s dread
For my sadness is sticky as any
And it will cling to all
You brought to bring back.

Once you’re done there
Go to my mildest memories
You’ll see mostly fog, but few
And far between my dreams will be
Made most of a bloody mess
They twist and turn about inside
Unsure of themselves now
Discredited by fear so I doubt
You’ll last long there
Still do what you can
And stay long
As you might
But I do plead to you
Do not get lost
And do not get stuck
Because I have been astray
Inside my head for far too long
And I still must state that
Though I am strong
It does actually get
Quite dull down here
Trapped inside my head.

Its very similar to my last, Its actually more a… continuation than an original piece, but going through these I quite like what’s coming out. I may finish both.



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Let me prance and dance around
Put your mind into a trance
And I’ll crawl right in
Through your open ear-holes
And start to root around-

(I long to see feel and touch
Whatever makes you tick
For I cannot see
How you manage to be
So damn fucking composed
Hair tied straight back and black
Eyes batted back and forth
Subtle as my sanity
You seem to be aware
That you’re no more special
Than me or her or him or they
And I need to know
How you stay out of the fray)

So once I’m in your pink flesh dome
I’ll pick and peel and pinch
Every bloody lubed tube
I’ll find your muse
And I’ll take it and break it
I’ll smash it and crack it so that you
Can see how hard you make it
For me to see clearly
Because all I can focus on is
Your perfect complexion.


This Jargoned Love I Hold

He steps across empty rocks
As his dainty bare toes elope with
Each and every dry stone’s
Gray mop stained hull
Their tops do drop and dip
Beneath the waters desert flat lid
That’s stained dark as the blackest ink
His eyes bluer than any dreary lost night
Not simply of another masked color
But in a form he holds dearest
Lit up glowing those eyes became for me
As a beckoning bright lantern
Held up in the fog by a sullen mirage
Shaped as a mumbled mans mane
But harshly crafted of pessimistic fiery intent
That could be carried only by one made by
Old wrecked band branded gods
Many dull and blindly thought
Of the bold spangled man as a demon
But to my wronged self he’s a simple love
Held dear to my wit and sought after
By my souls dearest affections

Muttered Thoughts


Nobody truly understands others… Our fixation on self abundance brings forth the worst and leave little time to engage in external plights. I see so many well intentioned people digging through metaphorical piles of waste searching for meaning  but only finding only refused pain… I watch all of this happen before me and it pains my heart; it hurts my body and tortures my thought for I cannot help but feel despair as realizing that they, and in turn I may never escape this endless loop of resuscitation. There are boxes that we all must reside within, and breaking free of those boxes will cost no less than blood and suffering. Contending with loss like this is, at least for me, near impossible and I do believe that I may just drop out and confirm myself to this presupposed belief of work and retirement. And yet if I do I will be lost and my thought will dissipate and nothing of what I have done will be of any matter… in the end I may just be entirely fucked.