I need no reason
To drift amidst stupors
Like ocean breezes
In heretic manuevars,
I inhale a strange contentment,
And exhale daily abuse,
You folks drink to a toast,
I’m a breathing excuse.
I drown my sorrows
On the logic that
If we can’t kill it,
It has every right to kill me,
And that death will
Be drunkenly beautiful.
Blood blisters burst
To strip the flesh from the nerves
And skin hexes into a curse,
We dissolved into oxygen,
Rusted, inert.
Apologies ain’t what I got,
Loving life maybe we’re not,
But coming out the gate
I’ve got you beat stock,
Can’t you see how breath
Will be the death of me,
Where life’s just a crock?
Life’s semantics
And ideals never enter
The grave with pride.
Life’s a choking, coughing mess,
That unfolds, unlayers as we dress
In skins and shades we doth caress,
As heaven and hell
Aroused in duress.
We burn like gossamer,
Melting into silken disarray,
The spider’s in the sky,
Our strands sever and we fade,
Like clouds seperating
Into aether and dreams,
Dreamt, unkept,
Into nightmares our forgotten hearts
Bleed.
I am unseen
And unheard
Like the ghost
Of bad poetry,
My whispers
Are for the dead
And no one.
There is always another glass floor
Waiting to break and fade away
But I just can’t stop throwing rocks,
I live for these shards of transparent pain,
I live for the death in which I lay.
Like threads, we unravel
And whisper truths to travel
The spans of neural continuums
In which we fall below the minimum
And dissolve like sugar coffee
Transmuting the soul’s serenity
And nirvana greets us,
The joker they dealt into rust.
