22

Permanence becomes a posture
we all hold our knives to
like throats of lambs and babys born
on the cusp
without decision
am I this or that
am I this or that
fuck what you read in history books
because nothing you know
is permanent.

Procedure becomes a chore
blindfolded and given our last rights
along this country highway
all waiting for the damnation to take
our hands
and shove our mouths over
grenades become the dental dam
keeping Novocaine in your blood stream
so when we cut
we bleed
chemicals
I just wish this heat was off my back
and choking the life out of you instead.

21

within this micro brew

we call sanity

I can feel a swelling

deep within your pores as you

leave my bed colder than

that ice box between your fucking thighs

wrap yourself up for the winter slut

cover up with your pity

and stand knee deep in lack of conviction

I've hidden the key to your dreams

inside my nightmares

deep within the culling in my throat

purr you piece of trash

because i'm no longer feeding you blood

and when you can't pick your fucking feet up

from the mud you've been sinking in for years

i'll finally feel redemption

not in the form of a song or dance

but in bitter revenge

as I watch 

these rapids shred skin from your bone

exposing muscle

which becomes a meal

for the sand bag you call a friendship

20

and the generations
they age on
pillars set in stone, begin their decline
into the such soft soil
the same soil we let our souls
plant their children in.
to grow into worthless wastes of space
causing mayhem amongst the already born
each day, a new dawn
each dawn a new place caught in upheaval
the spawn of Christianity
and matrimony
becomes the axe splitting skulls
leaving crimson hope along the stateliness
when a hearts caught against a current
it cant seem to become the salmon
and is left to float gently back
to the once safe home it knew

but this fucking heart of mine
I let it shine on thine eyes
and im no fucking quitter
and you'll feel my embrace again
whether it be around your neck
or waist
ill hold tight, onto that strand
of hope you let drop to my grasp
my heart could portray
more than you could ever imagine
i'm one of the blessed
immersed in a puddle of greed
corruption calls my name
I choose to ignore
and follow my own plight.

19

and i've been living in exile
from all these fantasies that
have come to haunt each and every
step I take
all of the breath that i've wasted
trying to burn your house down
run you out of house and home
but for nothing
stain my palms with
the ink from a black rose
so I can wipe the residue
all down your back
and further
the degradation
that i've grown accustomed to watching
every harvest moon
as the werewolves
come out to play
with your first born
which will be come your last.

18

slaughter of the youth
the sprouting buds of tomorrow
yes we will grow towards the sun
no we will not change
we will not fix the issues at hand
instead
turn shoulders to pillows
and heads to dreamland
where we will never wake
not for a moment
never to reflect on ancestors pleads
for 180's in our lives
and when our time comes
to rest our useless head the pillows
our youth won't hear
the screams we never heard
but the haunting echoes
will continue to
bring pestilence to nature
and concrete to forests
and death
to the fiber keeping
the planet in its correct place
good job to us
as we sit and watch
deterioration become a reality.

17

are you writing for a cause
musing for a chance to change
bring an uproar amongst
the most steadfast of broken hearts
who are you to tell us what we would do
fuck off, no one knows me like I do
I can choose my actions
and predict every stupid move you make
funny to fall into the place I put you in
so long ago,
thine eyes are clouded
these eyes are wide open
and I've seen the path you're treading
just remember to bring some fucking
form of direction
itll be the first time in your life.

16

the magic of fireworks has faded
no longer does my chest feel impulse
and my body no longer shakes with
convictions
these blasts
have torn
my ribs apart
in past moments
left me stranded and in awe
the maturity I know wear as a veil
keeps childhood under lock and key
a mask of chasity is keeping me
this terrible syndrome
where I just cant seem to see
the light behind the gloom of these years
here's to growing older under
a bright moon
and a shrouded sun