Desperate suicide letters
to Santa Claus.
I know I saw the corner metamorphosize.
Misguided and lied to
yet still not willing to delude myself
with things that will not be.
Self-serve ice cream melts quicker.
Ring a bell and salivate.
It echoes, returns
and changes shape and color.

Come bite this apple of mine;
spit and shine.
Carved and crying
you watch
camouflaged in thoughts
of post-birth headspace.
You skip
you stutter
you melt.
He says:
“I aim to confuse, offend
and fuck you over first
as you swan dive
into concrete.”

Introverted and crucified;
Post-apocalyptic daydreams of Hell
A consequence of life.
A hair in my eye.
Helene is still struggling to stay afloat.
A knock on the door
or am I just dreaming?
Voice trembling;
Hands with pale flesh
and neatly trimmed fingernails.
Crop circles and creamsicles.
I am homesick
for a planet that never existed.
In mourning I lie still,
close my eyes
and scream.

I can look at this shape
and see nothing else
in this world of shit.
The shelves of lies
lining walls of white;
scabbed over and rotten to the core.
Can we go back to before?
To a wooded sanctuary
of isolation and purity…

You are the stuttering mist of breath
from the ghost in my head.
You speak softly in a whisper;
then scrape teeth against asphalt.
You are the toxic fumes I breathe while trying to escape.
You are the requiem played
as you spit on my grave.
You are a laundry list of choking hazards.
You are haunted visions screaming in my ear.
You are violent shaking and bloodshot eyes.
You never stop.
You never end.

You never.

We surround one another
in circular exclusionary
feeble attempts
to wreck the similarities.
We have come to destroy each other,
the disorder and I.
With the intricacies of
a death march
I scream the saddest visions
into the ears of the innocent.
The innocence replies
with an attempt to eat me alive;
raw and enraged.
This bloody business
we engage in
day-to-day
that steals lightning
and only gives back thunder.
Where
does
this
rabid
holiness
lead?

We assume the position.
Our heads peering downward;
Into crushed lives of boundaries;
Exiting from the conspiracy tombs.

We assume the position
And wait…

Pale and bled was she.
Clenched fists and hair in eyes.
Cold water, not hot.
Have to stop the bleeding
and wind the music box.
We can hold hands
and plunge to our deaths;
An act of defiance
against the evolving blackness.
The night hides the monsters
even from those of us with open eyes.
Crawl up next to me.
and scream sweetly in my ear.

I am powerless over him.
His flawed perfection
will never be mine.
No matter how much
I want to crawl inside of him
and make him want me
the way that I want him…
It’s redundant.

Dis/connect

For everything I want.
For everything I will never have.
For everything,
balanced;
between light and dark.
Somewhere between
serial killer enthusiast
and children’s book author.

Where could this possibly go?

His eyes formed tears
out of the breath of ghosts
pupils where I want to convince myself
are nothing
but soft light from stars
instead of bottomless pits
filled with emptiness.
I crawl through the noise
and find myself some sense of security

I have shelter
wherever I am;
even if it’s nothing more
than a vast sky.
Still what I want
is that which no longer exists.

Home.