Post Title

Heartless.
Bastards.
Stand in the way of any sanity we had left.
Begotten tools
Consisting of evil.
Sway away.
Far beyond the dust and destruction.

After You're Gone

The trees sparkle a sad brilliance from their leaves,
Dropping leaflets of darkness upon the foreboding ground.
Redness spews from the sky every season,
Reminding of the death that scums us all.

toes and floor

The floor extracts the feet,
ominously, as if they are part of the tile,
clinging, yet releasing a fluid particle sensation.
Bygones are them
and they are bygones.
Twiddling their big toes,
waiting for separation
and the anxiety that follows. .

writing for the yips and yaps

Theres a drive inside of me, A drive toward nothing in particular-- but all the same it exists, although I am not sure what lays stagnant inside me. I want to be active, but I do not know with what, I want to love, but I do not who. Words have been taken from me, more predominantly than the cigarettes I keep smoking. I feel as if my ability to communicate is slowly dwindling away.. I am becoming more and more lethargic, stumpy, oh no, American. I am becoming a damn classic "American." Oh Lord no! I can't take being American!

wruv in mi heart

I've found that my heart is so full. Full of love, that is ready to spread like fairy dust throughout the world. Tears form listlessly, it is too much to take. All this love, slows me down. I fight to move, to do, yet I should be more motivated by the love, shouldn't I? Yet I lay in bed, naked, in body and mind waiting for something that will never come without motivation.

eyes on the flies

The boredom that stings my eyes
ravage my insides,
peeling particles apart molecule by molecule.
I see no strategy,
only tragedy.