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Parabolic // Traumatic  

Mitochondrial infractions mutating marbled messes of eyes

Synthetic // Parasitic

The tapeworm is wrapping around the artery

Lethargic // Tragic

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Karmic // Hidrotic

Softest lips, avian bones, bitter heart, bled alone

Magnetic // Lordotic

Horses bleached white in the salt and the sun

Arthritic // Pneumatic

I can hear the yellow singing behind locked doors

Polybasic // Instrinsic

Marching to my death with a drink in my hand

Carcinogenic // Optic

Switching tracks in the synapses to trick my head

Toxic // Septic

Tricked into being tripped into something that made me sick

Allergic // Cyanic

Made to vomit at the sight of certain shades

Pandemic // Atomic

You irradiated me into my grave, when all I needed was your hand

Pacific // Atlantic

Siren, sing your song to the sea, siren, sing your song to me

Atresic // Bulimic

Pretend to give a damn, or leave me the hell alone

Auxetic // Anemic

If I die to the sound of yellow, I'll leave the love I've known

Psulmic // Somatic

There used to be a harmony to your voice, now it's only drone

Sapphic // Caustic

Let me spit up the bile of the root, the seeds, the buds, the sewn

Mycotic // 

And let me disappear in peace


Let me sink, let me love, let me cut myself to ribbons on the reef



There was one damn moment, in the filial revolt of our youth, wished out of the coin pond, in which we had faith that we could do great things. Placing scaffolding against the soft skin of your ribs. Entwining the ligaments of our fingers together like bleeding twine. The print of my lips on seven glasses in an uptown bar, rotting right off the rim with traces of fluoride from the ice. A saint caught my scent and followed me home, while pigs and oxen ate up your bones. Headfirst into the china shop, bitching about the direction in which the world turns. This will never stop, not fast enough to keep it safe. So they'll lop off my hands for stealing your time, they'll reunite me with this guillotine of mine.

So spread out your artifacts across newly swept floors, build a spider's web of memories that leave you sad and bored. We must be shattered like clay pots filled with blood. It's our place in life to be the ghosts of the flood. Haunting fog rolling across the green, mourning phantom limbs, itching like we're fiends. Cut the rope, smear the red, rip the tongue right from my fucking head. Before I speak and I fail, grab the wolf, though he's old, right by his wagging tail.

I was burned at the stake for my love, a heretic with big words and charred lungs. With several gods bearing down on my feet, to keep me on the roof, to never let me leave. May the skyline turn to dust before I die, may the rain fall heavy when you cry. This world will know your pain, but not mine. Your lips sucked the green from my eyes. Wallpaper your caverns with mismatched dresses, pictures of men you've forgotten but hate, letters written line by dead line, a love you can have is a love that can't sate. What a palette you've come to acquire, when everything you taste reminds you of blood or burnt wire. The only morsels you savor are the ones you can't eat, you're allergic to the space between your bed and the sheets. 

I'm a mongrel, I'm a man, I'm the dogs that shred the lamb. I am bitter, I am blessed, and you can bury me with the rest. Draw a line, with red twine, make a map of bastard boys, make us sacred, make us cursed, make us ghosts with capillaries burst. Never trust the voice inside of yourself, never trust how you sound. You can skin the sheep, you can wear the wool, it won't matter if you're wolf or hound. I could give you a throat full of gold, I could tell the devils my soul's been sold, but everything I loved is gullet bound.

It's our place in life to be found alone, it's our place in hell to be burnt but cold, it's our gift in death to shed our regret, it was my mistake in the night to believe in your breath. 

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Injury made insipid through its being constant

A boy culled into the pewter bowl of toxic fumes

Conjured up by shamanistic principles of a common word

That dribbles from my tongue too often

Comforted by the fact that I damaged someone else

To hide wounds made by tensile string and elixirs 

Not strong enough to kill, but deep enough to drown


I want to go back to the day when everything stood still

And even the leaves refused to abandon the branch

Before the rain came and churned the lake to paint

Like all mixtures of all colors, eventually we turn to mud


The water pump buried in the ground leaks oil

The rowboat at the shore is covered in rust

Your wounds are yours, but I built a shrine to the cuts

So that maybe you understood how broken we've become

In the interest of each bandaging the other

With the frailty of new ice under the weight of the sky


I'm afraid that the oars are leaving me for the whale

And into a stomach, my last hope goes down like rye

So I'll run, I'll run until I'm dead, to leave this dream behind

No sleep could cure me, even if you were by my side

You'd forever be the beauty, I'd forever have died

That's how eternity works, infinity front, infinity back

There's no atlas, there's no guide, only trails, only the hunting path


One day, the dock will collapse, the house will crumble like bark

One day, you'll find light in someone who needs your dark

One day, the sun will retract into itself, right before it bursts

And the bloom of the flare will blacken the words we carved

Into the trees on the lakeshore that refused to loose their leaves

At least enough so that they may fall to the earth

And land gently on a pair of feet I've followed

To the deck of the gallows, to the heart of darkness


I have faith, though, not very much

That there is a star somewhere out in all that vast dark

Which burnt out so long ago that even the starlight faded

Before it could reach the color in your eyes

But not enough that, for a moment, it could make you blind

571 Hits
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Um. Yeah. This exists now. So, there. 

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78 Recommends

Muscular dystrophy at the heart of the weekend

Moving the weak to the front of the line

So that they may make their way over the cliff

Like a herd of bison made artificially blind

And what do you do but sleep on such low beds?

Where the insecticide fog of lust dances around your head

Until your heart can't take the sound of itself beating

And you make me out to be the corpse you're eating

But I'm alive, oh lord, I'm alive!

Just long enough to see the harlot make peace with her god

Before she bites at the legs of a man she adores

And the dandelions grow from my mouth filled with sod

What should I say then, if your love is just foliage

That fails to grow even in the brightest sun?

That it was the rain to blame for all your misfortune?

You dangle broken like a spine from the butcher's hook

And all his sons are batting at your ribs

Laughing black-toothed and rigor mortis lungs

A recognizable face that never smiles to save its skin

From the teeth of the pack that left the woods for our sins

That we may be crucified in grey furs and pink gums

Like our fathers before us, we are blind and we are dumb

The cliffs wait for everyone who ever loved

To wander, spit, trip, and fall off

So don't take my hand, don't kiss me in the dark

Just wait for the chemical rush of your blood

Wait for something better to come and break your heart 

807 Hits
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Seam-split tongue making caves for lesser beings

While melting plastic leaves hives through my wrists

That you may crawl in and out at your own leisure

Toxic blood, allergens diffused into epinephrine fits

The wind that makes its way past your skirt

It's yours to keep, it belongs in your chest

To twist like ivy up your arms, to let you breathe

With such vibrant shades of yellow to meditate

Upon the way they nailed my hands to the deck

I've seen you upon the twisting stairwells

The masquerade masks we all wear but you

This city is your sea of animal faces

Upon which every lie is written out

"I'll always love you," says the Fox

"I'll never leave you," says the Crane

"You're always in my heart," says the Tiger

"You'll stay alone forever," says the Shame

What tender things we are, fragile and lost

Promises, dust mites, pallbearers, and frost

And when I left you in the morning, with just the sun

I knew he'd look after you while I tried to run

Before my lungs caught on and my head bled out

Before the veins knotted up and my heart met drought

In some version of the paralytic universe

I'm still there, still awake, still facing the wall

With your breath caught wandering

We could have slept until Fall


650 Hits
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How many dead men must we take apart, before we find a way to fix our hearts? And how many lovers must we burn and let go, before we can sew these seeds that must grow? What are the chances we'll make it out alive, intact and on time? If our muscles continue to stand as though they were stone in a sea of atrophied hands, I'll keep a reckless mouth and self-medicate with glass bottles and empty cans. What a disgusting thing that's become of me, the eels and bottom-dwellers and mud. The wasted youth, the terrible shaking, the misplaced affection, the false-positive love. Are you ready to catch me falling out of my own way and onto the tracks below? Are you able to package my torn limbs in wax paper and secure the box with a bow? I'm not sure you're willing to bury me where we first met. You're probably wondering how to keep your dress from getting wet. Like the swarm of the hornets that built their catacombs in my stomach, I keep biting until red. Cleansed of the skin that wants to be rended off once I am clean and I am dead. Spit back up onto the shoulder of a tired mother, only to be washed off by the rain. The hardest part is being a demon, the easiest part is haunting myself. How many dead men must we take apart, before we find a way back to the start? How many gardens must we drown in lead, before we poison what's left in our heads? The hardest part is being in love, the easiest part is believing she's not. 

911 Hits
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A man once slept with faith, and awoke to find nothing but the corpse

In a castle built upon the alchemy of a dead man's hand

And in the decades that followed, I was born into the tale

Like the carrion of folklore and the birds that tremble

At the sight of what I'll leave on the side of the road

Remnants, artifacts, battered and bruised like rotten fruit

But she appeared in my sleep as though the water of dreams

And I came to find that I was always awake

The library of memory is reduced to sulking ash

Billowing around the statues of our feet

Tiny devils climbed between my tea-colored teeth

And made homes and made wars beneath

The thrones of sunken kings, a girl made of ivory

She pursed her lips and closed her eyes

Forgetting the three-headed hound I've been made into

Disregarding the gates I've guarded since I was born

Whether my demons will find her, I do not know

But I'll kill myself on the promenade before they try

And I'll drag them all back to hell

If only it means that she'll forget me for good

And my name can become as a castle

It will collapse in due time 

285 Hits
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It doesn't matter if you know the hemorrhage inside me. The bleeding doesn't stop if we believe for just one night, that the lay and the land stopped for once to let us breathe. Let us sleep easy knowing we're only inches apart. If I could name all my ailments, give them personality, they'd share none of the letters I find in your name. Each one would be a stranger leaving a mark on pavement. On the backside of my spine, my teeth, my cold-colored bone.

You were there to feel my heart weakening in my dreams. While the breeze from the window made me give into the seams of a bed I've never been in, of a house that was not mine. Bottles gathering dust in rooms we forgot existed at all. And all I remember of you in the evening, was the slow-motion way the film seemed to move. Every turn made your dress cascade, every droplet of rain was its own constellation. Built upon thousands and thousands of years before shattering on the vinyl. 

I should have taken you in my arms and never let go. I should have kissed you and told you just how fine the future was going to be. I should have killed everyone who ever told you the opposite. I should have never opened my mouth at all. I should have left the moment I saw you float down the stairs.

The ghost made of clashing patterns in the hardening amber that was time. 

I remember thinking that if there was a god, if something above us was watching us then, that he'd done at least one thing right. 

And if there wasn't, I'd just been lucky enough to see it. To see you. 

Coincidence and heaven, the blooms of rain clouds while the sun sinks through, no matter the cause, I've got a few moments remembered that will save me until the end. 

522 Hits
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Lexicon failed me

Smoke always trailed me

Like an atlas to lead

Your mouth to my throat

The only real difference between medicine and poison

So they say, it's in the intent, it's in the dose

And I intend to poison whatever's left of me

You can watch me collapse on the oak porch

While Saint Thomas slides his hands into my wounds

To prove to himself he wasn't wrong the first time

Language failed me, and the dose is growing

Am I such a bottomfeeder that you haven't noticed yet?

Are you allowing me to collect all your scars

So you feel there's at least someone there to catch you?

Even though a part of me wants to be the cause

Of the discolored marks on your arms

The mismatched hues of your amalgamated heart

If there is someone above, he should be grieving

I should be the one forgiving him

Because I'm lost in such dense forest

And you're the spark that refuses to catch

You're the wildfire that failed to scorch the earth

At least enough to tell me I need to go

To not hang myself from old brownstone houses

And martyr my hands for something that's never coming

Leave a note somewhere I will find it

And I'll never ask you to feel this way again


1105 Hits
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Stitched up

Threaded with yarn

Mostly pieces

That aren't us

Made into one

As though we

Could be fixed

By foreign parts

Of a stranger

And yet I'm quiet

With a patchwork mouth

I can't keep closed

Even though

It knows the red

You cover yourself in

How many poems

Must a writer write

Before anyone believes

He's more than just words?


Poor metaphors

Declarations of love

I wish you could decipher

But even then

He knows you know

And that's the part

That feels most

Like death

The part that feels


Like a dream

Or rather

Waking from one

And if you're that,

A dream, a nightmare

Then steal the air

From this familiar room

And just let me,

Let me go back to sleep

643 Hits
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Stop, repeat, play the tape back, cut to the scene I love

When I found the low light to be as warm as the rising sun

And we stepped on each other's toes and I failed to believe

In anything that hadn't to do with you and me

But as time is wont to do, hours passed, and left me on the shoulder

Fast forward to memories I haven't yet forgotten

And we're not even close to the figures we used to be

One broken, one lost, both parties present but at tremendous cost

Maybe I'll pour another drink and meet your eyes over glass

Sing a song I wrote that was already about you and I in the past

Try to save the pieces, put this puzzle back together

Knowing that the picture on the box couldn't mend me now

Even if we could find every jigsaw part to fit

It's still just the double exposure of me apart from you

Nursing bottles all the way to the coast

And back again, without the heat of your breath so close

I'm not the thing that shattered you, not the rock nor the arrow

But I watched the avalanche play its tune in F Sharp 

While records spun mute like scorched ballerinas

What is it that I'm trying to bring into the grave with me?

A semblance of closure, maybe, or knowing I'm not just another hornet

In the swarm that pulled the skin right off your frame

Until all that remained, was a skeleton that couldn't change

And never would

939 Hits
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Each morning I awake to spitshine the back of my hands

And every night I dream of killing myself in foreign lands

Amongst spruce trees and juniper flowers 

The tips of my shoes scraping the buds of better plants

Craning their necks towards the sun, naked in showers

As I perpetually float above like a heavy ghost

Born to lose my way, born to meet the rope

There's telephone lines running from here to there

Beneath the silt and the muck and the mud inside me

My guts are a coastal town once the typhoon came through

Lovers floating face-down, lightly tapping the corners of buildings

As the saltwater makes a choir of forgotten islands

Maybe amongst dried brush and tumbleweed

I can swallow sand until my stomach bursts

Nothing that ends this miserable dream ever hurts

Awaking to repeat, repeat how every animal eats

While the hounds dig a hole for my whitewash bones

My skull is always smiling, even when I regret being born

Like some curse placed upon a drunken braggart 

I never asked to be brought to this place, to be torn

All I asked was to be left to die and die alone

But each morning I awake to make better plans

And every night I dream of killing myself in foreign lands

644 Hits
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