the confused want

Carnality purged
through the decrepit seams
of the thorned dress
hanging loosely
from the restricting wires
that hold an abyss
more distant than I could imagine.

Gnawed at the temples
these thoughts disperse and
tangle
the silent yearning behind
the bamboo and withered leaves of
forgotten ways

I am not sure of how much
I am able to
what
I am able to
the logic tearing all desires
into shredded guts of mirth
never laughing at the jokes
of possibility

encased in this site of
numb protection and pseudo ego
there is no space beyond I

I am terribly frightened

and there is no space in I

CREEP

We crept
when the Torrents bled
and shed their colors
under the voiceless crimes
of such frenzy that collapsed
under the gaze of the
broken manners
people fix with jokes
The fuckin humor
that keeps our hatred civic
and will to consent.

a plexus dried
and seeded
like the desiccated
tears from repressed leakage.
A wreck climbing up our spines
in the slow speed of a song
that snatched all chance to be.

we crept
from the illness and the Wake
and the blotches on our skin
that spread beneath the coarse
breath of
consume and decay
and left
no signs
to agonize in or for
or apologies to smother forth

fuck the train
and the spit rubbed
on its bones
the cracking will not cease
until I fetch another song.

NEUROSIS

Gashed and withered
the chronic nervousness
tramples over the lewd
trenches of my smirking attitude
and the unwillingness to laugh together

I am sitting with all these strangers
a toad smothered in slime
croaking for disrespect
and those silent looks
I am paranoid about
And yet somewhat enjoy.

Forever embellished by
thoughts of cock and no face
Forever stagnated
by complacency
and the crude mess I’ve left inside
They will never tell me what I am
And so I squirm in discomfort
sagged of self
and inept for people.

I have changed
So much I cannot recognize
but become amused by this
squeaky new paranoiac personality
and the pretext to not conform
I cannot even invent nor foresee

I perceive this new inadequacy more
as liberation than realization
and there’s a penis behind every thought
and an ignorance that permeates
these crunched temples
A scattered sense of identity
that no longer holds
to the whole
but to the hole
And this brutal embarrassment
I cannot sleep with
And these playground anxieties
I cringe and twist about

I am revitalized
and sucked
by this tantalizing bomb of candy neurosis.