soul is sequestered.
hanging fruit, in a forest of giants
praying for atonement or holy alliance
molding my bones. soul seller solely uncensored
sling to be highest bidder, sold to goliath
liquor bottle pried in my fingers. corroded and weathered
like sewing a sweater, stitching holes i’m developing
alone in his centerpiece, exhausted, but smiling
phone ringing attentively. moment of silence
calloused fingers, punched the rotary dialing
show me a sign, show me some messages
but show me something,
worth more than im fretting for
we’re watching canonized poetry as it slowly develops
patternized moments wove into metaphors
the samurai shonin with his robe and umbrella
and a massive sized sword in his holster is held up
romanticizing loneliness.
tethered alignment in a saturn sky orbiting
were all enraptured to die
for worse, or for better
choke in the sandsurge that envelops the earth
lying in dirt. drenched in his own recollections
pirating strongholds, storm in depression
hurricane in a teacup,
for someone so verbose i hardly say what i mean
that’s what’ you’d say to me.
footsteps loud, like a mouse, but barely a peep
i would hear your silence as gaping a scream
allow me to breathe, as normalcy sorts in
don’t know if I’m abnormal, or still hopelessly mourning
grief is a black mass that i’m slowly growing around
soundproof my coffin of screams before you lower me down
apex predator in a matrix. my cage is lead proof
still have dreams of your tombstone i never payed respects too
every morning at three, pray at your feet. and rest for awhile
heard nothing but echoes. tense moment denial
the depth of the situation, brought me closer to ire
stone & ashes, your ghost and some fire
heads closed in. like a labyrinth threshold.
side-thorn, blood shot. gigawattage electrode
eyes sore, daily. i ask is there anything left to fight for?
life is a cuckoos nest beginning to look like psych wards
every fiber of my being – nylon nervous system sidewalks
bicep tendon, symbolism. combination ice cold
thromboembolism. narcissism. it’s hard to paint the right tones
existentialist grave digger. ghost hunter. face filter
illiterate author.
conspiracy factist. fascist stuck in francisco ascaso
conjecture gets harder. the lesser the gaudier
the lesson: contemporary. your protector. your guardian.
preparation delirium. procrastination is lazy
injection paste into serum. like they did to blacks in the 80s
reincarnations a bitch. your face in the stitches you gave me
scars are stark reminders of how efficient this pain is
perturbed with no purpose, let’s give it a pause
and stop for awhile, the resentment is awful
statuette in a costume, baphomet with a cross
sometimes thinking I’m crazy. always thinking I’m lost
seeking fulfilling things- small cause, far from colossus
never thinking I’m right. confused with humility