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Watch Me Come Down

September slumber slips away

And I find myself awakened by you

Hard and unforgiving October.

While I slept and the illusions of

Who I would rise from the flames to be

Tickled me with their phoenix fire,

You cut my hair and clipped

My wings.  How sharper than the Adder’s

Fruit it is not to be able to trust my Eve

And have that folly of my fidelity revealed

By Dawn, a passing and passive observer

Of my mistakes.  Miss, I took

You to my room and to my heart

In the name of the past that nurtured me

But you have stuck your finger down

My sleeping throat and caused me to

Expel that sustenance from my self.  I am now

A shrunken and pale dog limping along

On your leash, licking at your spiked heels.

I, who once stood seven mountains higher

Than the valley of death, am now wishing

Only for the blessed relief of loneliness.

A Corruption.

I am thinking myself away.

As each synapse fires it blows

Another tiny little hole in me

And I am draining out slowly.

It could be worse.

Going off to meet Mother Night

In the bullet embrace of my own mind

Is far and away superior than being supine

To your sadism.

Grasping and clawing, you always desire

More than is decent.  I am not decent.

Anymore.

As I am swept away by the breeze

And scattered to the cardinal points

You ask: Why?

Naïveté never did look good on you. 

Twain’s Daughter

Any one who truly loves another,

Would not bring them back to life

Is it ticking?

Has the drug kicked in?

Are you coming down already?

What the fuck?

Are you serious?

Where is everybody?

Why am I always the last to know?

Who was he?

Did you kill him?

Do you even fucking care?

Why do you worship the ground she spits on?

What’s the point?

Why do you do it? Why do you persist?

What time is dawn?

Can you watch it?

With me?

The colors of the sunrise, somehow

Make the night seem even more beautiful.

Hell’s Forges

A child in church is like ore in a mill.  Usually,

It is strong and resilient, can’t be molded

By a force available to the common man.

But when the fires are lit, the ore has no choice

But to give way.  When the smirking smeltist

Stands ponderously in the pulpit

Stocking the fires of eternal damnation

Even the gold infused imagination of

A child can be liquefied and poured into

The ready made mold.  Each piece of ore,

Unique and fascinating, is stamped by the

Hydraulic hammers of that Abrahamic Vulcan.

But this Vulcan fashions the chains not for his bedmate

At the surreptitious suggestion of the sun, no.

This Vulcan makes chains of children’s minds.

Heavier and more hate-filled than Marley’s

These chains weigh down the faithful,

So much so that when Noah’s great Ark

Sails again the tonnage of the atoning

Will pull the believers down to the depths.   

Not This Time

And with the hocus pocus of my

Perceptive Voodoo I’m gonna

Bring you crashing to the floor.

Did you think you could just shove the blame

Onto you’re favorite scapegoat and I

Would just let you get away with it?

Who Are you so Holy and Bright

That any stains slip from you

Like money through the hands of a junky?

That one could smile and smile and

Be a villain is something you’ve never pondered

But here I am with a smirk like a mouthful of knives.

I disguise my future malefaction with the patient

Benevolence of a confessor’s ear.

Advice:  If you want a secret kept, keep it to yourself.

And you should have, before your bullshit

Pilled up so high all you could do was speak

Not knowing that was the cause of you troubles.

When the boss hears what you’ve been up to

He’s gonna call down the rain