Bleeding Love

Deep within your smouldering midnight eyes,
Way down into your white-hot core,
I beg to be lost forever,
Wrapped up along with the passion of your soul,
That dances,
Eloquently, yet without reservation, wild-eyed in the full moon,

That fiery hunger,
So fiercely ingrained in your very bloodstream,
That it shot through me like a sterling bullet,
Leaving me, bleeding beautifully, upon this empty dance floor,
With lips that are dripping my quietest kept secrets,
Like crimson liquid oozing from my pumping heart,
That beats so brokenly for you,

And here I lay,
Begging for you to cease it's petulant pounding,
For with every miserable pulse it screams, "I love you!"
Causing it to fall from my mouth again, against my will,
Defying me!
...and there is nothing I can do...
Yet you simply gaze downward at me and smile impishly,
With your smouldering eyes that have me,
So gleefully lost within your entrapment,
That I almost forget,
I am still bleeding to death on the floor....

Bag of Bones

I watch the door in suspenseful hope of your return,

Black wood encasing red like the stone around your heart,

That prevents love to seep from you at any crevice,

Through any pore,

If there is any love left in you that is,

My shattered thoughts have wandered, aimlessly,

Into the folds between realities and fantasies,

Forlorn,

Wishing you would find me there and quixotically indulge me,

Just once in a midsummer night's dream,

But dark skies weep a black & chilling rain,

That falls in waves, so lost over a world that weeps as well,

And I, I am just sitting here on your couch,

Wrapped up in a blanket that provides about as much warmth as your arms,

Absent-mindedly sucking the life from my last cigarette,

Your mirage has faded from me finally,

Blown away on a hot morning breeze,

That has left me, stranded in a desert once more,

Forcefully ignoring the fact that I've been fooled yet again,

I move onward towards the sight of green,

But I know, yes I am certain,

That it is always just another hallucination,

Another ghost of happiness in the distance,

That once I reach, will somehow vaporize into air,

Leaving me here, having been alone all along,

Sarah

In the etheral beauty of your diamond smile,
I have noted the slightest sound of buzzing,
Wasps in your mind flying around again, no doubt,
Stinging you petulantly with that old familiar venom,
The other dancers in this parade never do see the crash coming,
Though it's always been so blatantly obvious to me,
But fully equipt with my own wasp repellant,
I have to ask you, "When will you get your own?"

This hot liquid attraction never will fade, dear,
While you play charades with the future,
And dance, near flawlessly, with the religious "should-do's"
Always in the foyer of your plastic sanctuary,
He will be there,
Waiting for just one of those lovely diamond teeth of yours,
To break out of your porcelain mask and shatter,
Painfully,
Busting out into white powder upon the floor,

And you will fall to the ground, grieving in sorrow,
As I still do at times myself,
Lapping it up, breathing it in, like the junkie you will always be,
Like me,
Never realizing until it is far too late,
That the remainder of your mask has crumbled as well,
Turning into just another sugary-sweet hit,
That you are desperately trying to devour with avengance and haste,
Before they pull you away again from your medication,
And force thier version of "better" into you one more time

"Put back on the mask"
"Pretend, pretend, pretend..."
"Now smile and say you're okay"

Isn't it fun, being an addict?

Memoirs of a Pill-Popper

You are the sweet, plastic decadence I crave,
A soft pixie dust center lulling me into blissful ignorance,
Wiping the slate of my memory clean for a while,
The rainbow hues of the world you produce,
As light and colorful as your casing,
Are pieces of paradise lost in bitter reality and sobriety,
The hot rush of your neon love,
Injected into my putrid veins,
Has woven small, ribbon-like fingers into the very fabric of my existence,
I like you, love you, far too much,
Developed too much of a fatally wicked attraction,
...I cannot...Will not... let you go...
In a sober and painful moment of purest desire,
Tainted maliciously by the fire in my brain,
I realize I wouldn't let you go if I could, dear pill,
And tonight while lying supine in the dark,
I will taste the venem of your kiss over and over again,
Praying to you, my Muse,
To become the Sinuet I love to adore.

Cinderella

Your quicksilver, moon-sliver of a smile betrays the delicate lines in your razor sharp tongue,
The one that bit gracefully into my throat of alabaster and seeped toxins of a new disease into my sapphire veins,
That now I am slicing open, in pathetic attempts, to rid you from my soul
& the black rivers beneath my eyes that you've so callously placed there
Drip placidly from my cheeks
What new crime have I committed that you feel you must give my heart yet another lashing?
Smiling with putrid contempt at me,
You have bashed me into a broken state, leaving nothing of my once lovely surface,
Still, through the roar of your anger that melts me into nothing,
I manage to stare blankly and contentedly at the primrose sky above me,
Floating deep within the absence of the cosmos I fly away to where you never touch,
To where your acid fingertips will never burn the satin dreams of my heart again,
And I can be the Princess in her tower,
Waiting for the Knight to come and rescue her,

Ode to Addiction

You are the single thing I crave,
From inside my mind where you whisper seductively to me,
Lulling me into a rainbow dream as vivid as your smile,
You are something I will never be,
Seductive, Sensuous, Addictive,
Such preconcieved beauty drips from you,
And I lap it up in vacant hopes that pray,
To become a similar sinu(et),

But it will never happen...


Wild lovers and worshippers alike,
You have us entirely encased so small,
Within a grip tighter than the coffins that one day,
Shall eventually encase us all,
Overdosing on your neon love,
That bends the needle in the vein,
Breaking it off into the bloodstream, sick,
Ending this lovely little game,
Begging like pathetic little vermins,
Don't let us go yet,
Just give us one more drop,
One more hit and we'll be set,
To muddle and fuck around,
Day to day in miserable lives,
Dreams of decadence screaming,
The picture in the back of our eyes,
And when the nighttime falls,
Over sobriety all alone,
We'll climb from our cased cucoons and find,
That delicate fifty-one,

The Swan

You have captivated my attention like the sight of a swan gracefully leaving this frozen blue lake known as life. Flying to some far off exotic land, searching always, for something new. She never worried that her absence might cause some great distress to me. That I would grieve to death myself for the lack of her essence. The calming flow of her laughter that was infectious at times, no longer readily available when I needed it. The words of caring affirmation that slipped through her lips like grains of sugar. She never worried how or where the world would move without her once she's gone.

She is gone now.

They told us all today the bitter truth. Impossible to swallow, yet shoved down our throats into our souls like rotten meat, to make us ill. I'm still vomiting it all back up as if it would reverse reality, making it just a dream, or a horrible nightmare rather. They told us you could no longer breathe. Could no longer stand to smile, daily, into the simple divinity of your pain as if it weren't real. Could no longer stand to fight for a future that you knew didn't exist. Could no longer tolerate the cancer-like disease that was eating away at your soul instead of your body.

Could no longer stand...at all in fact...

I screamed for you time and time again. So loudly that a few times those glass walls around your brain cracked. Oh, but they never would shatter, would they? No...and no matter how loudly I screamed for you, called for you, my voice was never loud enough to overpower the voices that lived in your own head. Whispering...Debating....and then Debilitating you into sickness and sorrow so deep that you could never come out again.

They said it surely had to be an accident. Oh, but I'm not that blind, not that stupid, and not that naive. You were drowning in this blue lake of life, just like Virginia Woolf. Just praying to fly away someday. Maybe then you could breathe again. Could feel again. Could see more clearly and without this tainted vision of ours.

So I'm watching you, in my mind's eye, taking that beautiful swan-dive from out of your window that let you fly away finally. And I'm just wondering...what is it like to breathe again?