Nonsense in Dreams

The ground is soft as two arms, bedraggled and eager, emerge from their damp prison to enlighten the world. Shall we, the soft-spoken cinder blocks of Absurdity, attempt to grab them?

No Room for Water

Tonight we can wait,
and live in the shadows
Like scared pieces of meat
True, I have got no heart,
but the mind of a lunatic is nice
Spawned from my hate
You can see your light
I'm sorry
I never meant to harm you
Sadness can come in spindles
I wake you to your enemies
Fleeing in hats like the ocean
Hiding their long lost gold
Loving the flowers and frying the birds
Sad and happy and mad
Wait a bit,
Take the key to the night,
Of Hell,
Of fury
Time is alive in hopes
Love and death both mingle as one
No room for water

Untitled 4

Life can mean so little to those who do not care to see what it is
How many arms will it take?
How many lives?
How long the wait?
Who shall tend to me when I am gone?
Who shall light the fire?
A priest of sins, perhaps
The leader of a clergy cloaked in lies
His bed, the only place of freedom and red redemption
The change in the tide does not shake his world
He owns costumes of various colors, each with no meaning
This is the side of the world left for the damned
Dead rivers
Dry beaches
Murdered children in wild hoards
Do not think here
Do not reach here
Worlds upon worlds will fall
You lie shivering and I laugh,
Bored in my fog
Hungry for more
A deathtrap you say
A prize, says I
A release
A crumb of freedom
A dry tear from my eye
You cry for your virtues,
I cry for your sin
Evil, you think me
Fowl, a sheep
A king, you are to me
Another life to take
What have I lost, and where has it gone?
To the only room left standing,
The one you built
I can no sooner leave you, although it is a wish, to fly alone
How often do I cry?
How mute?
Do you crave it?
To answer your ears, yes I do run free
But that means nothing
For all my value, I shall never love
Except or except not,
I only am

Drowsy Delirium

When will this eternal barricade cease its attentions?! I grow tired of the inflicted delirium, I long for a scrap of rest. Oh! That I might lay my skull upon a stone for a moment. Allow solitude to creep in, silently, with that now foreign light step. I miss this small privilege

Untitled 3

Since the beginning of this eternal journey, you have been salivating for sustenance. The roar escaping your lips is merely a representative of your natural tendency for sadism. Oh, how pleasant it is to look upon you in this state; your hair mangled and dirty, your features contorted and your ability to speak stolen by your savage thoughts. I admire you most when you secretly plot the downfall of your enemies. You wish to satisfy your perverse nature by removing their heads for tokens and later, their very souls. That I might one day hold your hand, Creature! How tempting you are in your cape of Sin. I stand as worshiper and inferior! Love has arrived in this heart!

Black Hackney

Psychic explosions happening in hoards. They rush, crumble, blow past my eyes. Who drives this carriage of Madness? A sane man? Never! My horseman is haggard, thin, pale, scruffy, wild with wisps of hair over his dark, devouring eyes. He steers with such an elegant grace, how could I pass up his services? Bubbling, brewing, festering are the thoughts he's born.

He seldom gets lost but when he does it is never for long. He always returns with the swagger of a dragonfly to captivate and enrapture all senses.

He is patient. He always arrives when creativity is sparse and hopes seem lost. You will not hear him arrive, do not attempt to listen for his wheels or his steed. Know only that he watches, waits, for you to summon him. Shall you? Do you dare call upon his talents? Indeed, are you so clever?

Untitled 2

Decency and degradation slipping into an abyss of slimy correctness. How can I, if I can, trade my will to forfeit the long standing desires of society and woe. Perhaps it is simple. I can dispose of my sentiments and fears and assume a higher, better revolutionary justice in lieu of depression and cerebral bursts