Empty Eyes

You stare at them with your empty eyes,
These stupid plastic spheres in your cranium,
Everyone says they're "beautiful"...
But you know what lies beneath their aqua sheen,
Beyond the thick, shimmery powder and black, cracking, crumbling goo-lined rims,
You started wearing it when you were young,
To "make you pretty..."
Then you grew up and took a long look at your insides,
Realized it would never happen,
You'd never be pretty,
Not really...

Somewhere....
You lost hope,
& now you wear it to detract from the violent sorrow,
That lies at the base of your person,
And somehow, no matter what, shines through your eyes,
It's a vacancy that reaches deep into the pit of your soul,
That pulls and sucks like a fucking black hole,
You're eating everything in sight with this vacuum in your heart,

Heart...what heart?
You haven't had one of those in years...
The hole has eaten that too,
It's going to continue eating you alive,
Until there's nothing left of you,

Nothing...
Except those stupid, fucking spheres in your dome...
Oh well,
People can at least keep the most aesthetically pleasing aspect of you,
Your empty, empty eyes...

Sarah II

Your ruby lips parted in devious malice,
To reveal the shine of your pearlescent smile,
That had always reminded me of the handle,
Of an ivory knife that held tight to your tongue-blade,
That was used to slit his throat,
Leaving him sputtering and dying in your hands,

You tilt back your mineralized osseous tissue skull,
Barely covered by the duvet of your flesh,
That hangs like draperies from your clinking-clanking salt-white bones,
As that fat, lying toad flops from beyond your teeth cage,
Where it should always stay until the end,
As you cackle madly like an old fish-wife,

Your words slide deep into his veins,
The way the needle slid into yours moments ago,
Injecting a sugary sweet neurosis into your soul,
That would eventually seep from the pores on your skin,
Causing you to smell of failure and desperation,
When you begin to withdraw,

How is it, succubus, that you live with yourself?
Do your stardust irises glitter with such magick in the cracked reflections,
That it bewitches even you into believing that there is something,
Anything,
Left to love about you?
For if so - it lies...

Your vapid skull bleeds thoughts from your ears,
Flowing down your throat where hands should choke the life from you,
The way you choked the life from him,
When you wound your words around his veins,
& tugged with all the strength you could muster,
Leaving his innards strewn far beyond,
The pale, white flesh,
That had been severed from your own...

Trip Down Memory Lane

Crickets chanted our names in perfect unison,
The night we laid quiet as dead lovers in the dark,
Bleeding limbs sprawled like our drenched and soapy hair,
Wide and open across your pillowtop bed,
I am sure to the innocent passerbyer -
We looked like the corpses of octopus,
Tentacles winding in and around,
Twisting the remainder of life from our souls,
Our Klonopin & wine cocktail had proven to be,
Most destructive to us both,
& to the universe,
By the blood slathered across the bathroom floor,
& cold spaghetti in the pot,
You babbled incoherently to me in the black,
Mouth, nothing more than a flopping, snapping mandible,
& I, I was nothing more than an empty shell,
Between the pills and the bottles of sparkling white & red,
The edge of my vision decided to bend and blur,
Meshing everything into something and then nothing at all,
Ghosts chattered, demons scaled the walls,
& skeletons fell out of the closet,
I gripped onto something in the dark,
Once Wonderland turned evil,
& I, Alice, submerged deeper that night into my rabbit hole,
Than ever before,
Your breathing stilled to a steady, soft pace,
Mouth slightly ajar as you quickly fell into a deep, comatose sleep,
Or passed out,
Whichever,
I rolled to face the amethyst curtains,
Glowing from what I thought was the moonlight,
But maybe I was hallucinating again,
I made a mental note to take an extra Geodon when the sun came up,
Not that the medication ever did me any good,
Ah, yes, better than acid, this,
As if Satan himself had shoved a magic mushroom down our throats,
& we were on a rollercoaster trip that seemed like it would never end,


But I digress,
These roadtrips down memory lane come at the strangest times,
Like now, sitting here at my desk, in my job that I have actually managed to keep,
The job I never thought my once sick self would have,
With the man I never thought I would be worthy enough to find,
In the life I never thought I would appreciate,
But I guess,
That sometimes things twist just to suprise you,

The End...