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I Am Never Alone

I am never alone
When it’s quiet I’m drumming my fingers,
Tapping a riot and strumming at a thought that lingers.
When it’s silent, in nonviolent moments, I’m dreaming,
Dreaming of screaming, dreams teeming with meaning,
I dream dreams that seem to be blue jeans with faded knees
They fit so old and I think it means, they’re too jaded to please.

When it’s empty I fill my cup with noise,
Boys will be boys will be boys.
When I can’t talk I think, I think about drinks,
I think about lingering winks,
lost down the drain of wandering sinks.
And I try so hard to be clever, forever and ever,
but I’ve never said whatever they sever stays attached,
I’m forever a lever to my own ego, detached.

When I cannot wilt I rise, when I can’t sit in shit I hit the skies.
I have often felt, that leather belt, that beats me between the eyes.
I remember, being a member of a family, being in danger,
Strange and stranger, I barely recall the instance, the fall of the feeling of change.
I always see the distance, the regrets, the hedged bets, How I stay out of range.

You can’t throw hurt at me though, can’t throw dirt at me so,
You can’t flirt with my touch. You can’t drink too much,
or throw up a bunch or blow up or some such.
I keep my head down, I frown instead of something to say,
I clown and I use fury and sound and I push you away.

There might be times where you see my heart, just start to start,
Before I rip it apart, because I’m art and I can’t be part of this.
I’m only working against myself here,
I’m only delivering the shivering feeling of fear,
That I’ve always known, when I’m alone, and I never am.

It seems like I’m a negative person,
I’m not a two-legged hearse, I’m only her son.
That mother of fear and father of failure, what avails you can ail her.
What I know of being a man I could stuff in an envelope and mail her.
So sad that I can’t be sad, too bad. Too bad my dad is dead and he was all I had.
I’m mad I can’t be mad and constantly blame you away.
I’m pissed that I can’t be pissed and this is all I have left to say.
Turns out they lied, I died inside and I’m still here today.

You don’t need a heart to keep pumping,
don’t need wings to keep jumping,
don’t need love to keep humping,
don’t need nothing to feel something.

Turns out the walking dead are all well read depressed obsessed writers,
Who quote what the liars said, in a suppressed & repressed party of fires.
We are all prizes and there’s not a single fucking Cracker Jack.
We all normalize a single stupid laughing lacking fact.

That I can’t be alone, I never am, I can’t be by myself.
I can’t be at home, I never am, I am always somewhere else.
I can’t see the dark, my eyes mark the points of light,
I can’t be as blind as I’d like, my second skill is second sight.
I can’t be alone, I never am, and this is me in the light.

The Wicked Dreamer

I am edging incrementally away from disgrace,
I’ve hidden my face in theoretically public meaning,
like an asymmetrical, political leaning,
Nothing promised, nothing given, no space,
So I can’t be pinned down, seemingly seeming.

Then the world swallows itself like a symptom,
the hooked pill lodges in a crowded throat,
but the half panicked cough that shows death is near,
is inexplicably and inextricably great,
and the strangest feeling of fear,
is pretty and functional with a tinge of hate,

The better of the best of two dreams,
Doesn’t fit with the way my world is turning,
A dirty pleasure giving life to glands,
the chemical remembers,
oh, and yes, god yes, the burning,
leaves the best scar ever in my hands.

The soothing cold of a razors edge,
against skin hot enough to cut last summer.
Through all the shadows lost in shade,
truth is the leaning beckoned blade,
stabbing like a billion shiny memories that will not fade.

Awake, this is just a drunken tilting planet,
with eyes open, the sleeping row of cars,
the rest of what I see is just black over layered black,
Can this vision ever kiss me?
Can I ever kiss it back?
Only in the wicked dreams that damn it,
And they, these wicked hopeful dreams, are full of stars.

My Perfect Picture

I paint you on the back of my eyelids.
Every night when I sleep in your memory.
Warm, the last time, held against me.

I paint you with my fingertips,
The artwork hotter on cold canvas,
Laughing, like you are every tomorrow.

I paint you with my empty arms,
Held tight against sheets cold from missing you.

I dream you back to endless sleep,
every time I wake without you.

I dream of every time you smile,
and your laughing eyes stare,
from every, ceiling, face, or faded picture.

I paint you with my heart,
on a paper-thin stain of tears.
And I caress your every color,
With my distant, deafened mind.

There’s only a single statement,
Meant to reasonably rhyme,
That you, my perfect, pristine, picture,
Are always, never, sometimes, mine.

We All Have This

You have never felt more alone in a crowd,
You have never seen so much quiet in so much loud.
You see it in every medication,
you believe you are fixed now, your benediction.

Follow the dark, or your instincts in pain,
burn bright or see a hungry shadow again.
You’re higher than you’ve ever seen.
So Clear. You don’t even know what you mean.

You move forward in spurts and spatters,
produce passion’s poison, like it matters.

We all cry, we all fall down,
we all die, we all hear the final sound.

We are burdened by our dull and private rage,
singing bitter, banged, and broken to our empty cage,
Yet there is a honest harmful truth to see,
gasping borrowed air that sets us free.

Through the tears you’ll see madness,
There is a sameness in our sadness.

We all have this,

No.

We all have this.

When You Describe God

Perfect calm, perfect anger,
the meaning of being,
inverting all that can combine,
into the infinite spiral,
who gives a desolate pillow
to the void.

Two imagined hands,
cup oceans between barricades, of dirt.
The universe is tilting,
and the concept of seeing,
believes in and of itself,
puts minds on an insect level.

Hunt, follow, believe,
Faith, the reverse compass,
always pointing inward.
The guide is self fulfilling,
and always has a plan.

The words are not the picture,
this place is not the plot.
Dreamlike trances walk hot-coals,
in the quest for sorrow beyond,
your own, miracle life-style.

The zen of everything, is chaos,
The contradiction of the eye,
Is the souls feeling of otherwise,
logic denies, fear confirms.

The instant constant black,
Is instantly, constantly, there,
dark like an angels eye.
Staring dispassionately at evening.

This is not your reason to exist,
This is the reason you do not.

You Fucking Animal

Dogs do doggy style because cats took up all the good parts with screaming in it.
You can’t lick the cream from your paws without sometimes afterwards dreaming of it.

I’ll claw the eyes from the back of your head so you never see me coming.
Beat you senseless a thousand times a second, if I were a bird I’d be humming.
Jump you like a baby dolphin, diving headfirst for a hot wet treat.
Hell I’d teach herbivores to eat meat.

Let’s get instinctual, let’s get hot, heavy, hairy and exceptional.
Let’s get rabid, stupid crazy, and attack until it’s sensational.
Let’s echo into the night like 1000 crickets fucking until their hearts explode
Let’s get animal kingdom, I’ll be an ice cream lion, and you’ll be my queen, a la mode.

When a million years of evolution is pounding in your night-vision eye
and the million incessant monochrome dreams of doing this until we die
When your blood is pumping like a herd of rhino through your veins
I’d invent fire and evolve your humanity until bitch it rains.

Let’s let sheep lay down with wolves and lions in silence,
Let’s lie flat on our backs sweaty and stalk the sound of violence,
Let’s live forever dying in each other’s finely honed senses
Let’s cover each other in scratches deep enough for fences.

I’ll rip away your second skin and leave it transparent on the bedroom floor,
I’ll tear away your inhibitions like a million knobs with a single door.

Then suddenly in a hot burst of quiet,
The aftermath of every animals, permanent riot,
We’ll lay there hip deep in pheromone,
I can’t find my jeans and where the hells my phone?

You Fucking Animal.

Something other than Silence

I wish something other than silence sated me
If I wasn’t silence then what would your silent suitor say
I wish something other than silence sated me.
If not quite so silent then what would your sighing suitor be?
If we are not speaking then when can you see eternity?
I am on bent knee, with no religion I pray.
Only the quiet keeps the noise at bay.
But I wish something other than silence sated me.

A Meme within a Meme

(in the style of Edgar Allen Poe’s “Dream within a Dream”)

Take this grumpy cat upon your screen
And, in parting from you now I meme,
Thus much let me say this next part in doge —
what you doing? so poem, so hip, so prose.

You are not wrong, with your freak flag unfurled
That he is gone, the most interesting man in the world
Yet if hope, so bright, has flown away
what hope this night, what does the fox say?

In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore taking it’s sick fun?
All that we see or what we click
seems to be a roll of that guy rick.

All that we see or seem
Is but a Meme within a Meme.

I stand lonely amidst the worst of luck
To meet honey badger, who gives not a fuck
And I hold within my hand the key to betterment
Grains of the golden fanciful internet

How few! yet how they chase and fuss
As if to prove, that all our base are belong to us.
While I weep–while I weep my soul flat
O God! can I not grasp the meaning of this LOLcat
Them with a big white font for a big white say,
O God! A Double rainbow, yes, all the way

One from the pitiless wave from me to you
One from the pretty miss dress, the goddamned dress is blue
Is all that we see or seem
But a Meme within a Meme?
If there is more to life please show it to me,
For now all I know, is I can haz poetry.

Who lies in darkness waiting

I need not sleep, nor hunger, nor fear, nor bleed.
I need not wait, nor blunder, nor hide, nor feed.
I have no coat, no burden, no dust or ivy,
Motionless am I, the statues envy.

A frozen smile hangs forever, on this shadows shadow.
Whistling a tune so quiet, so sad and so slow.
I am always ready, always fixed, always pointed,
I am the voice you cannot hear, broken, disjointed

I am the soldier standing ready, on the chessboard.
I am the weary scholar who has seen it all before.
I am the lack of courage when you dare not dare.
I am the high chinned lord who simply doesn’t care.

I am time, and moments, and tears and midnight,
I am the gold, the dawn, the stars and moonlight.
The waiting you see, that’s the truth i seek.
The waiting, missing nothing, seeming meek.
For a moment when you are not aware,
For a time when your attention slips a hair.

Then I am fury.
Then I am your hearts blood gone thick,
Then I am the epitome of motion, icy quick.

Do not begin to flirt with hopes affair,
For I am me, always me, despair.

The Hive Queen

Hive queen.
Fight your bright lit day across a retina.
Burn eyes with honeyed lips.
Sting passion in passions’ God.
Kiss your drone.
Obey.

Hellish Plans

Churned oceans of melted dreams.
Milked liquor from might have beens.
Drunk on night sky’s heavy stars.
Hellish plans in heavens bars.

Wrecking joy with hands of stone.
Mighty sins you can’t atone.
Flights of fancy in darkened corners.
Wear charcoal veils on mental mourners.

Hellish plans in heaven’s bars.

Coded Whispers

Coded cryptographic whispers.
Through secret sensitive messages.
She passes flirtatious notes,
in a classroom of the damned.

Maze without end.
Paralytic fractals in her eyes.
Locked in frozen time she stares,
at black over layered black.
Always black