day

he's standing right behind you, with a balloon and a gun. there's magic in his eyes and ennui on his lips. he wants you to know he cares very little. it's just an orchestra in his brain. he's almost positive you're the crescendo. how long can he keep this going? how long can he keep you in theoretical suspense? he possibly feels the same way you do but enjoys it. his songs are innumerable. his acts are finite. it ends when you do. or when you end him.
stop pawing at it and man up. rip the throat and enter. there will be a day to remember.

show

your little room and your little pictures hide your wounds. instead of your words i hear your nails scrape against the earth. i have felt your eyes. your indifference is boring. your anger is coddled. you're neither sly nor intriguing. but you are appetizing. and so you will learn that i have many uses. you've had one of the good ones. now let me show you how horrible the others can be..

sober

who wants to be on crutches their entire life? who wants to end up bored with their own mind? it's like escaping into a prison of your own choosing. even the dirtiest of sponges need a good rinsing and drying. or else it rots from the inside out. it's called failure. and even if no one sees, you cant escape your own stench. i like my indulgences to be just that. if it becomes more frequent than not, it no longer becomes highs and lows, it becomes today and tomorrow. acceptance doesn't abolish the action. and action does not abolish perception. its easy to create waves in your ebbing tide pool. vilify yourself. emulate yourself. bury yourself. dragging their cornea across the paper is the only way they can feel the grit of your narratives. and even if a few of them manage to blow away the smoke and see right through your two way mirrors, well then, they are already a part of the piece of you that you will never own.

clean

and one by one they fall. so dry and brittle are the pieces, the mesa, the meta and pro. they've been dead for months. cramped in the corner of the cupboard. the thought of them makes me sick. as does the thought of you. only difference is, the mess their invasion in my life has made is easily cleaned by towels and bleaching sprays. i've yet to find a substance strong enough to wipe clean any residue you've left behind that doesn't do any permanent harm or leave those annoying streaks you can see clearly in the sun. it's just plain embarrassing when company comes over. but who am I kidding? there's no company. not with all these dead bees and dead feelings all over the place. no no no this wont do at all! so i weigh my options. i consider the realistic facts instead of the clouded misguided blame i tend to shower in. the outline and movement is just clear enough to make out but.. loch ness? big foot? my truth? it's a shame i study an analyze something that merits no credits. hmmmph. moving on..

stream

it's clear the grime will fall away easily. using one tool of filth to clean a dirtier one is surprisingly effective. there is a small path, recently cleared of debris that i must stray from. surges of energy break my cycle, sweat beads down my face back and boobs. the violence is interrupted. i pray this is a small inconvenience and hope that my entertainment resumes shortly. cloudy. scalding. peeling. i need something more intrusive to clean between the blades. this process is necessary to continue my fine tuned ritual of stripping, ripping, tearing; pulling like a rack; smoothing tying twisting drying.

walking

the colors just barely reached my toes. i felt robbed of my punishment. this is where i suffer in sections. microscopic bits of embarrassment. the sweat, the piles of clothes, the collections of empty malt liquor cans. these aren't badges of honor or failure; they're the building blocks, the foundation on which i build my future empire to the stars on. your accusations are totally founded and completely disregarded. no one likes a tattle tale. that's why i only did him the one time. that spring in my step? gravity. don't be surprised when it glistens in the sun. don't be surprised when it leaves without a sound. don't be shocked when it shares the same demons. it's you.