52

pounds of feathers
and plumes of bricks
establish the scent of your voice.
heard the movements today
of cleaning the rust
a dark high-noon red's rejoice
there's a choral reef somewhere
far below Poseidon's rain
the damned cry out from their rack's
to fall on deaf ears.
'Father Maximilien,
forgive me my ways
brutality the horse you rode in
corrupts thy soul
like my own'
Terror will rain
in blades of silver
the dance of the dead

51

ages pass
mortality becomes a muzzle
a sludge surrounds dreams
we yearn to produce
with our faith caught in a noose
we are pawns
within our own daily grind
until we are gone
a life led by crime
but our toes are enveloped in grime
our trough full of husk and rind
belly down and bottom up
fucked with knowledge of history
forever to repeat water and wine from a golden cup
but we're entombed with desire
refined

50

moved from dorm life, to a mattress on the floor.
doing what you're told, saying hail marys to a crooked cross.
forget the fly on the wall, im the elephant behind bars.

finding a closet to shove inquiries in, a dead bolt and padlock away.
telling mommy and daddy you'll join the work force soon,
their checks cut to the dealer down the road

every night it's you and a leather belt,
every sunrise it's less feelings felt.

every plungy you take through tissues,
empties whats left of daddys funds.

you won't stop till youre in an elephant graveyard
this is allston rat city
bostons necropolis.

49

on a fucking leash
stigmata as my reins
and it pours blood down
foreshadowed guilty palms
but i'd tear my hands
from these nails
drag broken arms
and limp wrist's through hell and back
i've got to be made aware
got to reach the entrails
follow the respiratory system with ingest
I wander
a lost mind among flora
pyrotechnic palms
and heathen carvings in my skin
i'll scale the cross for you
rise atop a war ridden with plague

my nails as road spikes, ill claw
up your high heeled calves
tearing flesh from inner succubi
my mind in a different place
crimson drool follows my skull
i separate your shoulder blades
what is a god
I can anything inside my sanctum
a fleeting efreet
i'm crazed and capsized
feet in the sand
and hands digging through a troth of flesh
but this skin, my own
i'll devour muscle letting me love
letting me fear
letting me hate

48

mountains,
an easy comparision for a human being
the exterior shapped by memories
a mountain is always stern
but a human's will, is easily broken
that of a wooden doll
if you throw it, it breaks it
but we regenerate from shattered and torn
to alive and new, but hardened
but its never hard enough
because the coast will always erode
and we will always gradually let go
and hold onto the impossible
even with proper knowledge
this overcast frigid feeling
will always be familiar.

its a cold snap.
the way our chest's can be broken open
frozen with the ice age
our hearts stopped and brittle
careful to touch, because hearts do shatter

in an art form all its own
regeneration is lending its arm to the human condition
an art we can never let go
as much as the heart wants to pull out
the body pushes in
into love
and torn stories all the same.

47

it all comes to an end with death.
so wake the fallen
and brush their coats of blood and sweat
because you are headed to hell along with your dreams
just like every one of us.

46

franchise my perfection unto brass hooks
run line through hearts of stone and cast them out
how deep does despoar drag on
heated curretns flow up beyond layers
through sealed teeth and undernear fingernails
and we sink
quicksand out fond friend
enropping the avian children
clipping their wings and selling them
to gods bursting with blind faith
flip the cross and wedge
your faith between sin and love
the hearts of the war are full of sorrow
much like the abyss beneath the oceans grasp
the calm og the ocean and the drop of the ranges
crimes against heaven mean nothing
swalled amongst sea redder
then the deads will and tesetament

past verses shower meteor rain
down to the fault lines
they bury this heart.