Poetry

these beasts resting in the corners of my mind demand tribute, at least in the form of listening. I can not tolerate them, despite having lived with them since I was able to speak. To feed them: it is burden. They spin the dreams of joy and pleasure, of milk and honey, the almond trees’ … Read morewretchedness

how many suicides can i live? those wretched birds happy and in love, me, waddling like a duck out ‘a luck. Trip over broken glass from last night: the point i was trying to make from sundown to midnight … laying there shattered like my heart. it was only a bottle, i remind myself, it … Read morehow many suicides

lingering a bit too long upon those sweetest memories: the mind’s milk & honey. There have been so many, you’d need 10 lifetimes to remember them all. for every season, a fantasy! lips pressed into the longest kiss, disco Cinderella afternoons, eating cereal, watching cartoons, sun bathing on the perfect rock, coffee under oaks, rage … Read moreas it happens

slipping into the comfort of you, the masks and outfits and disguises all slipping off as i drip into you. my socks of shame, falling away my coat of humiliation, falling away my underwear coated in the filth of self-loathing, falling away my costumes rendered useless, falling away slipping into the joy of you, the … Read moreMerciful God

The god damned tears , curses from my father , and his father before him – biblical journeys of inheritance: I would give it all away, if it would go away… oh, to see it all in flames: a furnace of moments, things said, things read, the bloody innocence of a tortured puberty, the empty … Read moreTrain Hopping

Walking in with tight pants Some patronizing shit about recovering libidos One more beer and her name is forgotten… Lost to Oblivion. So glad we can be friends! This civilized world of uncivilized desires … set me ablaze in an arson’s fire Battles for control, Sure I’ll let you win: my pleasure is the loss.

Morgen choking, gagging for memories always in the morning. the pits of despair, like welcoming friends, beckon with The End. you can not kill me. you can NOT kill me. with friends like these, who needs enemies? except an enemy is a face, unlike this faceless friend: “come, non-existence waits for you…”, like a spa … Read moreGuten Morgen, Sonnenschein

so much has changed, since the dam broke. the villages built to extract the rage have been razed. their inhabitants, mostly dead, cling to vestigial memories. [ Not all of them worked in the mines. ] The baker has taken over, unable to imagine a new place, screaming into my ear, all my heresies against … Read moreThe Art of Letting Go