+ 10:14pm +

Black rebel suns rise in eastern promise of something better.
And the hours pass, as aliens quest over, filled so right, to the brim of thought…
You know them – the torrid ones, so feeble and kingly.
The “them’s” whom you never thought could invade you the way that they do.
It’s unidentifiable the way that they so meander inside.
Feeding and bleeding and drinking and cutting and vice-ing and loving.
“Love is lust, and that is a dangerous desire.”
All these things and more; transforming your speckled thoughts into profound glances – foresight within the world’s inner core of magnificence and disgust.

She came to you as a soiled child.
One who believed this place was Good.
Or that it at least could be.
Each of us, fools we are.
How can we not be?
How would we ever survive otherwise?


It is better not to then.
Fumble and fall and dig those tulip shells soft like lightning rain;
And whisper the words that haunt you in the darkness.
If you scream them, no one can hear you….maybe they just won’t want to.


“No one can have me,” she utters.
“I don’t even have myself," he licks inside her wounds.
It’s amazing how the blood spills and spills.
Crimson beautiful, rank like meat dead nine days.
But fresh enough to never have to consume again.

The moon tells me to stop looking.
He runs to you with amorous care and devotion.
Prison seems to be more freedom than it, picture painted, is.
They always told me they hated my writing.

I don’t trust anybody.


+ + + + + + +

(i apparently wrote this on april 25, 2008)