often times,
when no one is home,
i will step out of the shower
and walk directly in front of the mirror,
and just stand there,
and imagine shaving
every remaining hair on my body.

(spontaneous quick-write for no apparent reason.)

so much potential,
so many paths.
so many chances,
to heal the wrath.

the wrath i was given,
the wrath i was living,

my nightmare has become reality.
the threat to my sanity, tangible.

i feel it seep up my veins, tracing my quaking body.
i feel it spread through my lungs, piercing my chest

the tear-splattered page.

my hope is lost. i have forfeited to the suspicious.

-- "i miss streetlights. they made seeing stars a humanly-craved challenge for me, while industrially serving as light, a form of beauty, in darkness, despair.

thoughts thoughts damn it all they're coming fast slow down and at least write me a note brain tell me what you want me to hear because it's all gibberish coming out of my mouth and i want to sleep bu

the poptart sizzles on an open flame
as the cookie monster floats atop the mountain of shame
where the man with a long white beard raped a cotton sweater

born into this world,
without a thought of breath,
i knew not of love,
the essential death.
i liked to smile.
i would stay for a while.
i would imagine conflict and

such a beautiful disaster,
incognito bliss,
that is the blanket of dispair,
the comfort in sadness.

such a destructive beauty,
hidden wretchedness,
the white mask of joy,

as the rains hush the clouds of thunder,
darkness fills our hearts under.
and and as the rains by earth's hug fall,
shrieks the beautiful sin of a lover's call.