the best christmas yet
Close that gaping hole located on the bottom center of your oval face.
No longer have I found a need for your critique, and have been wondering if I ever did or at exactly what date I invited the judgement. Both have slipped my mind.
What has been on my mind is how some reactions we can't ignore- and when changes happen we can't hide the disappointment on our faces.
All the curls and frills of roller coasters, rusted in old age, new age sting has fallen numb.
Complacent eyes for a complacent soul (put aside the black holes underneath them)
My ears still ring, louder than before, I just choose not to stay concious to your slightly magnified idiocracy.
And whether by self-will or the natural cycle of the human psyche, I will get some sleep and wake up better.
True as hearts can be
Lies reign queen of hearts
Matchbook flames my lady
To light, and warm, and see.
When users unite
The pleasure can deceive
Your lazy eyes welcome
And your skins they receive-
But beware of the warmth that can also
Burn and itch and scab
That can scream and howl
Closing doors that
You never knew you had
(In a once duet of a room
that now smells of a prison cell)
You will wake up hours
Before the alarm to
The sirens of your own
Heart whispering plans in the dark with
Your feet to
Run.
An Encore Unworthy of This Performance:
Act II: (Stepping into a Box)
Sliding over the living room right into a human sacrifice.
The crowd insisted as I slithered back first onto a wooden board.
They cheered and applauded as each splinter (there were eleven of them) choked and coughed up blood while devouring my skin.
There were voices far off in the distance, and from what I could make out they were positive encouragement like, "Oh yes" and "That's it" and "That's so sexy."
My smile stretched west to east across my beaming face as tears of joy welled up in their ducts squinched to the point of exposure as the rope licked and gently mangled my wrists and ankles.
My heart filled with the pinkish light of acceptance.
Then I heard it.
It was almost deafening.
"Mind Blowing!" "Radiant!"
the audience screeched and cheered, even rising mad with satisfaction on top of their seats throwing roses and other small trinkets.
And as the flames started to melt my skin to disfiguration into little pools of pudding on the cold sheets, I couldn't help but think, "They love me. They really love me."
No longer have I found a need for your critique, and have been wondering if I ever did or at exactly what date I invited the judgement. Both have slipped my mind.
What has been on my mind is how some reactions we can't ignore- and when changes happen we can't hide the disappointment on our faces.
All the curls and frills of roller coasters, rusted in old age, new age sting has fallen numb.
Complacent eyes for a complacent soul (put aside the black holes underneath them)
My ears still ring, louder than before, I just choose not to stay concious to your slightly magnified idiocracy.
And whether by self-will or the natural cycle of the human psyche, I will get some sleep and wake up better.
True as hearts can be
Lies reign queen of hearts
Matchbook flames my lady
To light, and warm, and see.
When users unite
The pleasure can deceive
Your lazy eyes welcome
And your skins they receive-
But beware of the warmth that can also
Burn and itch and scab
That can scream and howl
Closing doors that
You never knew you had
(In a once duet of a room
that now smells of a prison cell)
You will wake up hours
Before the alarm to
The sirens of your own
Heart whispering plans in the dark with
Your feet to
Run.
An Encore Unworthy of This Performance:
Act II: (Stepping into a Box)
Sliding over the living room right into a human sacrifice.
The crowd insisted as I slithered back first onto a wooden board.
They cheered and applauded as each splinter (there were eleven of them) choked and coughed up blood while devouring my skin.
There were voices far off in the distance, and from what I could make out they were positive encouragement like, "Oh yes" and "That's it" and "That's so sexy."
My smile stretched west to east across my beaming face as tears of joy welled up in their ducts squinched to the point of exposure as the rope licked and gently mangled my wrists and ankles.
My heart filled with the pinkish light of acceptance.
Then I heard it.
It was almost deafening.
"Mind Blowing!" "Radiant!"
the audience screeched and cheered, even rising mad with satisfaction on top of their seats throwing roses and other small trinkets.
And as the flames started to melt my skin to disfiguration into little pools of pudding on the cold sheets, I couldn't help but think, "They love me. They really love me."