I'm going to hell.

There is a fear inside of me.

I live in a world, where magnetic ribbons cling to metallic car surfaces. At night, you can hear the wails of babies being born half-retarded, and it will never know of the slow creatures that couldn’t get away hours before it was pushed out of a beast it’ll only fear, or have an unhealthy addiction to 20 years later.

The men and women that put these ribbons on their cars are the most twisted of the bunch. They drink virgin tears, and stomp on all of the roses in the wild. They have abortions at the dinner table. They are beautiful werewolves, with woolen turtlenecks, and five thumbs.

I slept on a rock last night; I was so drunk I tried to hatch it.

I smoke many cigarettes, but I do not inhale, for I am the pastor of second-hand cancer.

I am closing in on my twentieth year on this mud ball, and my greatest fear is dying and being bored.

Almost a sonnet?

Close your eyes babe,
ignore the world outside the door.

Birds fly by,
itching the bloodless sky.

The smutty air,
tickles my everywhere.

So I kiss you.
So I kiss you.

Dear brown eyes,
your door was open ajar.

I couldn't help,
but,
take a peek inside.

Your walls are bare,
and your bed told me all about,
who has been in there.
Maybe I'll join in time.

I'm a real nowhere man.

I’m deaf,

Dumb,

And blind.

We talk in rhythm,

Painting an escape.

We crawled out the bathroom window,

And slid down a pipe.

I’ve had enough for tonight,

I don’t have much to say.

I wake up to snowflakes,

And an empty house.

My arms are tired.

I need to stop masturbating viciously.

For Trevor.

Germs.

Refried cigarette butts, toothpaste and cologne.

Eu Du Toilet.

Your hand is in my pocket,

Always begging for change,

When the night comes,

You retreat to the moon,

Simply begging for a dream.

Gunthroat requests,

I’m a little uneasy.

Do you think the moon has a treatment for me?

I won’t shed a tear.

You say, “I want you to die,”

So I said, “Me too.”

Regardless of the demos,

And the hardened pop souls,

I think I’m giving birth.

I took the cure tonight,

Will this pill save my soul?

With pharmaceuticals,

Who needs religion?

I can live forever if I use beauty creams,

And magic protein elixirs.

You wave your magic wand,

And the ugly duckling,

Becomes,

A bikini clad swan.

In the middle of a bath,

You played The End.

Cold Barrel Grooves: Redux.

In retrospect of a deer, I once met:
You seem a bit shaken, but overall secure, behind your climate controls.

Off to search of honey clime.

Let me pet a little.

Slick tongued steps of pool water; I have a fear.

“It will be ok, just come in, slowly, slower, there, you are all right.”

What if the weather suddenly changes, I have a fear.

“Just wear a raincoat, and stop the clock’s hand.”

I really like what you have done with the place, how much did this all cost?

-Cold bore cadency, with two hollow mouths.-

“Feed us,” cried Sister.
“Snap,” cried Brother, almost as if he was only complaining to make himself equal.

This was before my augmentation.
I was still clean.

Germs cause infection.
So wash your filthy hands.

Cold Barrel Grooves.

Cordite;
A powder perfume,
For jealous lovers,
and,
Eidolons alike.

One part whiskey.
Two parts shame.