Monday, December 6, 2010

Stark Horizon

Naked without my rings.
Shame of how far I can reach without the sparkle of these imaginary items.
Their presence is blinding for a reason.
My cloak thickens, graphing itself to my skin. I need these extra layers. My whole being becomes the same consistency of my ancestor's tusk. They look upon themselves, looking upon themselves. There is no need to celebrate.
Training wheels evaporated, when I was let go. Never got that chance to feel the persistent tug of trust. Left with pre-conceived digits to reconfigure some sort of social economic identity that matches the worth of my head and heart's intestines.
Excellence tortured, surrounded by nothings, on a speeding backwards conveyor, as I race toward successful versions of myself. What things will come? No one will cower.
The chopping block's mouth is watering. The infinite stretch of blades have it out for my jugular. I can't help but to reflect my shiny magnetism. Even though everyone is wearing their gosh darn shades, They seem to always think I am one of them. I don't want to be.
A fragemented spectrum of a random crowd of tourist flock toward a filthy, soul-less street of the forgotten. They are one with city's kalediscope.  
A non-intentional search of pain, I seek the freedom of your danger. I'll lick it up in the shadows staring at your photo, wishing some I knew wore similar shoes.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

The Happy Ache Of Being Alone, Artistic, and Broke

I took a rusty razor and sliced open a knotted, throbbing artery. The one that wanted it most. It had to be done. Blackened, beautiful lava leaked out...
Realize my individual beauty radiates curiosity while I am negative in all these accounts. I am almost out of eyeliner. The armor and life-forces of different handsome courters co-habitate in my trash can. Almost human. Seeds in this state, make me feel something. I don't what yet. I look at myself. My apartment is very clean. Disinfecting chemicals, incense and pot. Smells like a home. A minimal Pine Sol scented lion's den, where I tend to the majority of my guest without my mask, fully relaxed and comforting.

The essence of this time is fleeting. What is the day? Everything is due! Including my re-birth. After you. Did I take my anti-responsibility medication? Did I insert my life-protecting gadget? Cover yourself. Be one. Stay lost. Surpass expectations when another version of a man will be here any second. Rest anxiously. I am so full.

Just quit that emptiness that was infected with parasites. Yes, my name is Sunday. Spikes in the sole protection of my well being soar. Everything is connected. Unleashed, in heat I dwell in distant dimensions trying to compose a form of myself good enough for you to text back. Holler. This will never happen. None of it in the day.

Night terrors of shattered teeth become a reality of stress and death to come. My porcelain wings have chipped, with rocky mountains on my bare, bloody shoulders. Accidentally ripped out some feeling still attached to a loved one's heart. Let me carry it.

Dreaming awake, in the sky, I was in a hazy, exotic forest, being wrangled by ex's and their new designer kin. Still. Hungry. Wild. When, am I not? They always want to capture me. Wait. Get a rope. Stacks of hands, horizon far, sink around my aura's sunset nails deep. One of them was a fetus. We used to have the same last name.

Sometimes I share spooning and talking in our sleep. Sign? Freeway of our brain waves, what did you go over when were out? Anything important? Out. Of me. I just want to drive by. Inside you.

I bask in lonely shade. Don't look. I close my eyes. Vibrate. Please go back into your void and return to me more powerful. Alone. You better. End up anchoring my soul deeper. The energy needs this.

The orgy of his planned demise ended in a quarrel and disappearance. They usually do. Study me to fail a karmic quiz. Carnally tested, I feed freely, incarcerated by you.

Found a mysterious jewel embedded rather deep in the skin of my shell. Damage done. Could belong to anyone. What's it worth? Hang on to it while I am spinning out of cruise control, twisting towards the magnificent. Let the nebulous sparks touch. Fearless morning sun rays shoot into me blind. Moonlight as me. Tears be fond. Don't go your usual route.

Usually fucked, tenderized, I stay optimistic with my damaged, freed inside business spilling out at you. Swollen with assault, my hourglass figure, eats my minutes and ticks me off. Head high, I will cease fire on the mirror, now give me change. Gang banged ferociously by anonymous cosmic stars, my universe's stigmata is real. I'll 'get it' all stabbing my gifts into my empty pockets, transcending, flowing through the conscious.