Pick Your Poison


Skin that doesn't stop,
excitement overwhelmed,
touch my broken claws
heal my shattered cells.

Silver Mustang

Running away from the sounds of a scream,
while echoeing laughter, its not what it seems;
don't think of worship, I don't practice things.
I already forget how i used to...

Falling forward,
looking back.
Choices honor
honest tact.

Falling asleep to the sounds of your screams,
the echoeing laughter penetrates my dreams;
I'm too high to worship these rough rotten things,
I already forget... I already forget... (how I)

Perfect timing,
calloused veil.
My coarse palms
recognizably pale.

I already... I already...

Reaction Formation

Things got better,
but of course they shall return
to the sorry state
I just emerged from.

And I hope that things do get fucked up...
I NEED the pain to be inspired,
and I need the inspiration to be productive...
and that's what makes me happy.

If Steph hadn't left,
I'd still be scared all the time...
I'd have never met my family, met myself,
gone to Burning Man, or met Lo.

If Lo hadn't left,
there is no way that I'd be as inspired and on fire
as I find myself to currently be.
I wouldn't have started painting
or understood myself
nearly as well as I do comparatively.

I might never have made it back to this place
without the reckless abandonment of that woman.

But I wont be here for long, perhaps.
I am no less damagable by dishonor,
no more brilliant when it comes time to decide...
And always, the voices inside
will tell me I am wrong;
to what extent my mind might listen
shall be revealed in the execution.

"I've always missed you,"

she said as our eyes locked. No better metaphor could have been spoken by this creature; she got out of the car. Another miss, another glance.

But "always"?

I don't know what she meant, really. I can only imagine that the last nine months of my life have brought me here to hear it. There is something wicked in the air of her breath, perhaps, and the poison just has yet to kick in. She walked into her house. Maybe I just missed the point.

What twisted wills some have, to wind me up and spin me away. I suppose it is fair treatment for such hopeful eyes in these caves of sharp crystal. Impaled by betrayal; left to die at the shard. I drove away.

It is a matter of worth to these women, and my time's long run out. Another miss, another chance.