Twinge

It's a harsh truth, indeed.

When you realize that no one cares about you.

The devil prescribes the details...

No, twinge takes center stage.

Cries for help met no contention.

Do I really see you?

Heartbeats sync, 

Then tap out of time.

Reverberation, dilly day,

Slap my face echo.

We are every nothing.

Hold on dear,

The darkness knows longing.

The light won't wait.

Slide or sink into abyss, 

And you reach out.

It is now,

You compose your reality,

I watch in delight.

The light is the tunnel.

I want to help

Desperately.

By helping, I can ignore that I'm beyond.

I see you,

You seem me.

Though I don't ever see self.

My frequency is not in phase.

I see longing.

I see breath.

I see a non-ending.

Go on then, bastard.

Stake a claim on stolen land.

May your ambition be your curse.

The ground under our feet

Gets sucked away.

It was never there.

My spirit seeps through my body.

I am a mesh.

Dozer

I give up everyday.

Let ambition walk away.

Optimism wanes abysmal.

Canary-chocolate-charcoal,

Dark matter black.

Morrow whispers:

Twain come back.

Hope

I will not fear Hope.

Transfix doubt, Faith questions me.

Blessings glitch out woes.

Moment

I am hanging on.

By a shriveled, naked thread,

You want to sever?

Haiku

My Dear, fucking God.

Got me counting syllables.

Please, grant me release.

Devil

Quiet, don't judge me..

Hidden, sneaky, hungry beast.

I am yours, truly. 

Alive

Bury me alive.

Dead inside, always have been.

Alive, to be dead.

Bella

Bella, little girl.

Mirror face, fierce stubborn strong.

How long we hold on.

Wolfie

The girl who cries wolf.

I cry wolf every night.

And he comforts me.

The Heart - Emily Dickenson

“The heart asks pleasure first,

And then, excuse from pain;

And then, those little anodynes

That deaden suffering;

And then, to go to sleep;

And then, if it should be

The will of its Inquisitor,

The liberty to die.”

Excerpt From: Emily Dickinson & Golden Deer Classics. “Emily Dickinson: Complete Poems (Golden Deer Classics).” iBooks. 

This material may be protected by copyright.

Check out this book on the iBooks Store: https://itun.es/us/o7Cqjb.l

Holy Hell

Your ancestors carved

Runes on human bone.

Am I symbolism,

Am I bone?

My ancestors killed

Liberally, in the name of

All that is sacred.

Sacred Sport,

Holy Harvest,

Hallowed throne.

Am I another 

Unknown?

Beat meaning into

Lifeless

-No

Reanimated corpes.

We are are animals-

-No.

We are unknown.