Disgusting pity anger hate envy tired of the only mind remaining deep anxiety breathe city catacombs that rupture on the lake of the lungs to torment tormenting ram a nail in the spine let it build a new back unmask insecurity repeat it repeats again it’s back on my back the only back left to where sorrow grows like a sky no bird wishes to set free hasten vengeance the past the past the past move forward in a wave of shorthand what can assuage what can appease all language is made of the dystrophy of bones of touch all poetry is the orphaned child of despair when will sleep come the sleep of children with dreams wide awake like walls disaster after disaster makes sense drive her to the brink to the teeth of blood to the guillotine of storm lost head lose yourself in nothing prepare for the rebirth a circle now blind your mouth untie your spirit pierced ark divorced religion holy arrow promiscuous cock clouds swallow what the sun cannot stomach give dirt to the wet skin give anguish to the kittens the flowers that drown in barrels of flames massacre the apples the peaches the brightness of new everything is born fired rip the moon from the womb of the night rape the morning feed acid to the rain bleach the light the drugs the drugs of earth of nature snap fingers ravenous seasons the tall stumped buildings loath their bricks their towers fuck inside wounds the lights flicker pyramids steal stars stitched to the sky’s skins to drive themselves into a river of blindness of snot the shot vision of pathetic despondency chase the fumes lick the smoke tackle the violence make it all the colour of end to come again repeat it’s back on my back to cripple the only spine left
no hand can feel like your own
each smell is different until it becomes hatred
who will bury the earth?
Born Into Their Madness
Since birth they tell you you’re average, ordinary. They create a false image of perfection and they push you towards it. They fill your heart with materialism then convince you that all your possessions are now secondary. That you need more, better, newer things. They give you beauty and apologise for you not looking like that. They give you intelligence and apologise for you not thinking like that. They give you a grave in which you turn into a home, then after all that, they offer you medication - their final apology for what they’ve done to you.
5pm. Winter. The sky runs away from us. Looking for a more peaceful world to bury itself in. To become another sky’s sky.
You’ve never experienced proper loneliness. I can tell by the way you treat other people’s hearts. The lonely can never be that reckless.