Perfect Stain

Why am I getting colder, chaos brings a great heat,

You can hear my vocals trembling when I speak,

The crowd is too loud and too wild,

I feel tine, timid, terrified and meekly weak,

You would think that I would be used to this sense we weekly compete,

I can feel the moisture of my palms as my throat fills with bile,

Undefeated, suffering from emotional defeat,

Yeah…I probably look like a creepy freak with sharp pains in his ass and dull spikes being forced through his feet.

Doubt in my head, blood drought in my legs, heart painted with dread,

Have I passed two minutes,

Am I slurring my sentence…es?,

I would rather be bled, or dead, or in bed, is my face too red, I feel like my face is too red,

These judges are relentless,

Speak with much fervor, probe for no repentance,

Ah, my perfect picture punctured, I have found my error,

Deep within my fame, arrogance and disdain, a mantle of modesty, I obliged to be the wearer.

Four out of ten,

My composure is cut thin,

My head’s under water,

Disappointed faces of who I thought to be my friends,

Accept the change because this time we didn’t win,

I remain still and the walls begin to spin,

A quick response to alterations, prompted altercations, and disbanded pride within my father,

Covert tears, throbbing ears, and clamoring gins.

I…am…frozen on stage,

The shouting, pouting, and my doubting stops,

Clouding eyes, and black spots, and blood clots and then I drop,

When I slept I thought of the debates and the mistakes I made,

I wake to a smell of perfume and a ceiling with black dots,

Arms fitted in little slots where they administered hydration shots,

Misfortune hit their core, when I hit the floor,

Danger negates the presence of spurning faces and hate, and more.

The Devil’s Night and God’s Light

Fret not the eyes do deceive,
Poisonous pastures with beautiful leaves,
Polluting nature as it breathes,
Applying strife as it grieves,
The leaves believed to be of peace bereaves,
The enthralling pasture burns the eyes with its hold of your glare,
With promises of fruit and benefactors as it declares,
Until the night falls.

Take away the sun, let the glaring be done,
Escape, and dance, escape and run,
Don’t let it’s beauty stun,
Run, crushing the daffodils as you step,
Mustered from the glass vines as they crept,
You dive into a purple pond with no depth,
You tripped on nothing fumbled and lost your step,
Within seconds the purple too dark to see,
Purple pond grant your magic wand to me,
Grant me light from the sun sea,
In silver cups,
In golden cans,
You can’t swim up, but no one ever can,
You hold your breath, to survive the plight,
You prance, dance, trance and fight, with no hope and no light, because of night,
That fell, to turn heaven to hell,
From pleasant aromas to deplorable smells.

The sun wakes the bodies of the night with warmth, protection and light,
It turns bats to birds and we smile again as they take flight,
So beautiful we cannot feel shattered glass wedged spectacularly deep within our legs,
We hold hands as tears fall down our smiling faces,
To learn that heaven has many faces,
Scattered, shattered about in many places,
We cannot break our smile…in this oasis.

I wish to once escape Valhalla,
With her wrapped in my arms,
But with the Devil’s night and God’s light we cannot escape its charm,
Sometimes the most beautiful things can cause the most harm.

Vergeltung

Scream with the seethe,

They shout with their teeth,

Open your mouth, they sprout from their feet,

They suffer from doubt, sin, and defeat let them creep,

Continue to shout while they screech,

Maybe they understand that agony,

And understand your pain’s gravity.

Crawl with the creatures, become the blight,

Spurn, hate, renounce, and do fight,

Against the good that riddles your subconscious,

And tivia your responses,

Take part in there down falls, be involved in their seances,

Do no good,

Remain overlooked and misunderstood,

Do not what you should,

Do what you should not,

Do what keeps your blood flowing and viens bloodshot,

Silence your ears to a talking mind,

Leave what is genuine behind,

Leave who is ignorant blind,

Crawl into another time.

Severe the much needed bonds, from which you are not fand,

Attach to the fold,

Procreate, assimilate, mold,

Conform, be what you think is bold,

Threathen the enemy, that confides within your vicinity,

That is derived from divinity, and takes pride in being your enemy,

Rely on the wrong to make it right,

Defy the strong to take the fight,

Black is gone, resent the light,

Creep from your crepts,

Travel from the depths,

The slop that coats your tone,

Gives you a pleasant overtone,

I can hear your friends moan.

I am danger, you cannot hear me, you cannot see me,

Meaning, your eyes and ears are closed to reason,

The winter season always comes with death’s chill,

This year with the fear I hold dear to instill,

I am the revered, just incase death forgets to kill,

I am the one scorned, the one distilled,

The one that you felt, the one that you feel,

I am the one your friends help you escape,

By making, single-handedly, a grave mistake,

To shatter all things good, and temp fate,

To scatter all things understood, and watch as I dreamt of hate,

Of shear shear resentment…

I am your spawn, yet negativity is tied to you,

All things good reside within the borders of my mirror,

It couldn’t be clearer that what it says is true.

Your frankenstein, your harmless illusion,

The one that will destroy you in penance of deathly deed unpaid, with incredible intrusion,

I will give you back the disaster that you gave me.

Stand to your feet, don’t creep…please don’t creep, show keenliness I want this to be a memory to keep,

A golden memory of something “perfect” in your mind crushed meak,

Don’t look weak, don’t speak,

Don’t look weak, smile as I beat,

You are homemade meats,

You’ll remember for the next weeks,

You’ll be squeamish of what the hex keeps,

Aliments that doomsayers preach,

With resolution placed far out of your reach.

Just give me time.

A Spirit

Let it be nothing more than a spirit engulfed in oblivion to truly honor the presence of sparks,
Inflamed by a burning life, brightening the darks.

Let this spirit embark on civil pursuits toward serendipity,
Renouncing the surrounding endless darkness,
Let not this spirit become heartless, rather slip into repose,
Prose, bows, a meaning to movement that no one knows,
Conquest the path the world rescinds that God shows,
Watch discord amongst the plenty as hatred grows,
Let this spirit stand beside itself correcting, directing its goals.

A merry Monday…bleeding into the stream of breath, clogging my lounges with horrible beginnings,
Let this spirit dance about the bad and loathe not for the good,
With exemplary resistance and ambition to remain content,
This spirit sleeps deeply within the confines of my heart where it mixes with my soul,
It includes the mind the organize my goals my souls state to make.

A broken heart, a calm spirit, a shattered mind,
The token heart will allow no one near it for an see extended matter of time,
It fears the presence of humanity,
Gorging with disgust and reeking of vanity.
Let this spirit become mine.

Lest He’ll Pass

Deep, subtle, before my chest,
Lies a impractical hope,
Such as an impractical joke,
With no punch line to confess.

It sleeps embedded within its nest,
Like agoraphobic folk,
It remains anomalous because with others it cannot cope,
Another jest.

A joke to many, yet remains grim to me,
People think of its insanity as it flushes through my head,
My affliction loves disasters’ company,
And they both enjoy it as I dread,
Relaxing in indecision comfortably,
This “hope” broke open and now spreads,
Coursing through my veins consistently confronting me.

It has attached itself to emotion, spores, and disdain,
The hope that maybe one day the wolf will retract its teeth from my veins,
Take a few steps backwards to see what I became,
To truly see how pain can truly change the way the body strains,
A strange cartoon of a face as it continues to watch the blood drain,
An abomination, I know, that can’t be slain, right?
A blight,
A man monster that always seems to turn the direction of the plight,
Still glib, while irrationality aches faintly behind his ribs,
With very little reason to live,
With very little nothings to give,
He gives what is left to take another breathe, each meaning less than the last,
Maybe the bite wasn’t so bad, lest he’ll pass,
Lest he’ll pass.

Canvas

The mirror tells of imperfections, and broken glass,
Her heart harrows of an unspoken past,
Remembrance of whatever negativity was spoken last.

Her eyes tear and vision fades at its description,
She suffers from keen eyes, keen senses,
She believing its false pretenses.

Point, paint a picture, of perfection,
Let her eyes be guided by the mirror’s direction,
Intent, begin to mark down, corrections.

Her perception her perception,
Her conception her conception,
Fabricate a falsehood, preach to a deaf choir,
Pry her eyes open, feed her nonsense,
This is right, you are wrong,
She falters at the mirror, trying too long to stay strong,
Cut her hair, shave her head, her hair’s gone,
Boys, ear piercing compliments over the phone,
Let them fall before her.

Signs of struggle, signs if restraint,
She expresses through humdrum poetry and splattered paint.

The lively machinations of a lifeless mirror,
She supplies the power to its opinion,
It works carefully and in her life edicts dominion,
She glares at the broken glass to recreate,
She glares and glares while glaring at her mistakes,
Nose too big, eyes too far apart,
Distasteful tastes lie on the pallet it tastes tart,
She continues to sprinkle and splatter paint, it’s hate art,
Remnant of a late heart,
Of shattered opinions from the past that taste sharp,
She speaks with a bloody tongue,
The beliefs beat her brain like a drum,
A rhythm she cannot understand, undone.

No second represents time, progress,
The seconds second the opinion of the mirror’s conquest,
With better dress, with better dress, the agony of distress,
A finished canvas shows the nos…the nos.

Between

Dear God…Dear God are you with me?
Let this be a prayer for the desperate,
Closed eyes force meaning in darkness,
It prompts the mind to pull from nothing.

Breathy bellows breach my bruised ribs,
Beating all peace and instilling throes on a loose crib,
My personal compromise with life, I repose until the truss gives,
Give way, eternity casts its blessing until my turmoil, unending,
Unending, arresting, arresting, arresting…..apprehending,
I smirk at the happiness my cold energy is lending,
Pretending, for healing I am sending.

Joke with me now reflection,
State your imperfections, confuse me with occipital misdirection,
Guide my eyes around the fine contours of my face,
Give me something for my personal truths to trace, chase,
To chafe my brain with unnecessary heart-felt disgrace,
I am screaming, screaming loud in empty space,
Dear God are you with me, in this anguish, in this…place?

Pulpit, pulpit, pull it, pull me,
Away from him! Awaaay from me!
Use a immeasurable division of your all power, your divinity!,
Please separate me from me,
Regulate, exact, decree,
Take me, away, from what is only me,
Danger flows , like rivers, through veins,
Danger grows, in my heart, with strain.

Let this be my prayer,
I am my world, I am my doomsayer,
I am my end’s delayer,
I am my skins flayer,
My sins flayer,
I am my sin’s slayer,
I will be my penance payer.

Time, tormenting sleep,
Nightmares of crines of folk hading sheep,
A leap of faith,
At every attempt that I take,
Dreams of waters, lakes, flooding my intake,
My dreams turned nightmare,
Laming trees with dejected light present chilled scene of scare,
I stare, glare, dare to the end of trees, you are there,
The never ending breeze…my mind declares,
A whishing wind, wishing winds to swear,
That you are not alone with me in this desolate nowhere,
Time given, tending tender care, please prepare, someone slender is there,
It is not you…I will not share,
God…God? Are you there?
Please release me, please retrieve me, take me from this liar,
I see my enemy is me, slender, dangerous and free,
He has shadow eyes and a pierced back, red teeth, shown with cracks,
I wonder what keeps them intact…
In this valley of indecision I must not act,
Rather stare into his eyes while entombed in the black,
The black, the black.