Damage (Love Is Madness)
Love is not about learning how to dance in the rain,
or how to dance at all.
Static warfares and lost melodies, fading memories
of what used to be,
circling the vortex and nothing will ever be the same
once the beast owns your heart.
Liberation will be an illusion that sets you free for an hour,
but once your eyes open you are
enslaved by the emotion in physical form,
wishing you were dead rather than face the torture once more.
It’s like we’re tied down by a sadistic psychopath,
barbed wires wrapped tight around our arms,
eyes forced open, as we flinch at the scene on the screen.
A thousand nails piercing your skin,
the equivalence of watching the one you love
love somebody else,
so fuck the people that say that romance is dead,
it’s alive and it thrives on broken hearts and drunken souls,
it manifests itself as happiness when in reality,
it is death’s distant cousin,
cupid’s nemesis in flesh,
nightmares and lies synthesized into a single word.
Love is not about dancing in the rain,
it’s learning how to endure the flames that engulf you
and as long as they smile, though it breaks your soul asunder,
you feign happiness and you wish them luck,
because in the end
that’s all you really ever want.
”Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs…
What is it else? A madness most discreet.”
Operation
Sadness is a surgeon,
deftly cutting out your tongue.
Vocal chords are not a vital organ.
Feelings are like your appendix,
harmless until they’re inflamed.
But, it’s a simple operation:
It’s just a few little cuts in your lower abdomen;
then the scalpel just keeps moving up,
until it slices open your chest,
(the retractors keep your ribs and sternum from interfering),
so they can pull out the useless bit of traitorous flesh;
it’s been causing you so much pain.
My Love Had Been A Gun (Gun Poem)
I made the whole McMansion quake!
I made it and its people quake
with my glorious tumescent belly!
.
People said: “Calm down.”
So I busted all the lights
laughed for forty-five minutes
in defiance!
Prostrated myself on the kitchen floor
told everyone
they can’t feel as much as me
anymore!
.
That night I felt so much!
Felt love for everyone in the room!
.
My love was a gun mowing down
all the nubile boys and girls
who only ever wanted to party, you know
when some LOUD and RIGHTEOUS
voice told me to remove my clothes
for love of AMERICA
and I was happy to oblige
I ran the mansion back and forth
my wang a grandfather clock
I told everyone it kept divine time.
.
I screamed:
BABIES—
YOU ARE ALL MY BASTILLE
LET ME PRY YOU OPEN
ALSO
WHERE IS THE SWIMMING POOL?!
Request #7: Petrol Skies
Oil dripping from the sky!
But of course, deary,
you know I’ve never owned a carriage
that had more perfections than flaws.
Let’s ride the clouds, shall we?
roll those windows down,
we’ll show those uppity birds and flies!
This big block sucks on air that houses
hardly any oxygen at all.
But do you care? …I don’t, darling!
Cause I’ve got your eyes,
those hands of yours around my neck as we ride,
just beneath the stars!
This flying car,
my wild dream!
Pop another lucky strike between my lips will you,
let the tail lights seduce the earthly dwellers below
as I appreciate this buzz.
They’ll never know,
oh they’ll never know this fun,
this secrecy,
this top-down-high-reved-stroll
we ride into the heavens.
I love you, sweetheart,
but don’t you dare scratch the paint.
just keep your gaze fixed on that
golden sun,
retiring on the horizon.
There is ivy
in lungs, growing
up, wrapping around
knotting with nerves,
veins reaching
for the rest of me.
pulling me apart.
inside I am old
ancient, crumbling
building with shattered
stained glass windows
bursting panes, bats
in my eaves, dust clinging
to surfaces stirred
with breezes rattling
around my bones.
beautiful.
Caprice.
Are you worried that I’ll say
too much? Well I’ve got nothing
on my mind, if you won’t
let me unwind, I’ll have no
choice but to mix your
truth, with a bloodied hand
clasped in mine, and fortunes
they always seem to come
for richer men, the rest of us are
left to swing, and sway in the
wind, necks strung up by the gallows
of our own minds. Turn it over, tell
me a story, tell me something new,
tell me anything, to keep me
from crying, to keep me from thinking
of you. I’ve got shaky hands, crushed
in knuckes and achey knees. I can’t
move on, it’s easier to stay in one place,
its easier to think that I’ll always be
the same. I’ve got no key, I’ve only got
dented in dreams, and a back that
isn’t so good to me, but have you seen
the way my heart bleeds? Gushing
all over the streets, I wake up day after
damned day, I’m in too deep, losing
sleep. I’ll see you again, just as soon as
I figure out when. For now, I’ve got
this image of the last time I saw you,
it’s forever imprinted inside of my
eyes, my friends say I’m crazy, but when
I think back, all I see is red roses and
a girl that never imposes. The sunshine
baking the tattoo across your shoulder
blades, it’s better than razor blades, your
wrists can attest to that dear. We waited
for days that were never coming, you
were in love with me, I was in love with
the way you loved me. That’s arrogance,
but to me is the best that I could give,
these words are handwritten, you’ve got
to know I’m nothing less than smitten.
When I sleep, my dear all I see is you, all I
see is….you. Tell the angels in heaven
not to sleep to dream, tell the sinners burning
in hell….tell them not to wait up for me.
because it'd never make it to the mailbox
I’ve been sober much
of the week because
I’ve been painting the
walls
of my place
don’t ask me what one
has to do with the
other
but I guess they
do
I walk across to the
street to the
store
buy apples
and steak
lift a hand
to those
I kind of know
smile convincingly
bring my small part
of the world
into theirs
theirs to mine
there’s a church down the
block
but I don’t go
I don’t have anything against it
like you think I do
no
I just
take sunday morning
the way
it comes
look at the birds
that are smart
enough to make it
and I don’t think
you’ve had the same hangovers
I’ve had
or
the
wild days
nights
years
like you let on
they
would have come out
when your guard was down
and I don’ t believe you
about your
tattoos or
your lovers
I’m not new
here
and
I know
some of the
tricks
I know
how to
fake my way
through a slow dance
or at least
hold onto
someone
as they
cry in a bus station
every day i race pavement to empty,
crunch concrete under feet,
gravelous cornflakes.
i eat grit for breakfast,
helps digest things i can’t stand
to chew
a big swallow
and what comes out
is none of your business
unless i share it publicly
in a book
written for science -
impersonal and polysyllabic jargon
disguises personality,
i am a face of letters.
if you let me
i’ll beat knowledge in the face -
i like fighting for education.
we’re in the third round,
but i think i’ve lost count.
sometimes i pretend i’m winning.
if they say
it’s not a competition,
they’re probably lying.
Air
Helium balloons for translucent children
Ferris wheels turning back in time
showing up at home, quickly they left
with funeral noises
how many horrors are counted in holidays?
One of the twelve found Pantheons
was composed entirely of rats
divine, sacred rats,
their febrile narratives.
One window to the center of the earth
walls of doors, difficult hikes
and the concrete, lost, swallowing
the air, hardly, breathing
the hard
skin
of nearly everyone.
all of this
I’ve seen well
from plastic castles,
hilarious,
nameless.
