Sunday, September 3, 2017

It's past curfew
Oh tilted dream
Wherein I'm yet again angry
An unkept prisoner of sleep
Honestly waiting disgrace
In a prison of memory
Dishonest aptitudes
Writhing to kill
Any peace

Saturday, September 2, 2017

The tattooed heart on my epidermis sleeve
Has lost the vibrant pigments of any happy glow
 And it vigilante hurts as if long past curfew when I breath
Still I meander off to sleep awaiting on another blind tomorrow
A faceless epidemic threat beyond nightmares dethroning my hope
Just another monumentally disastrous uneventful day 
Thankfully I'll just stay hidden in doors
Where nothing but silence happens
Wherein slowly faith bleeds
For if family disowns
What loves is there
For me...?

Friday, September 1, 2017

Every day...
Another great day
To stay behind closed doors
Where the volumes of silence consume
The last happy note of a long discontinued happiness 
As this heart bleeds straight tattooed off this sleeve
Metaphor for the hope dying within willingly
How long till suicide can it be...
When a family has disowned
Does love exist... 
For those like me?

Thursday, August 31, 2017

Continuous tilted dream
Writhing happy pains within
     Angry unopen single groveling cyclopes eye
Kilowatts measure the algorithms of your tears
Never shed invisibly seething and imaginary
Harbinger frets of hopes daring to scream
Disgracing the night as terrors
We wake in puddles of...
Fear; preying upon us
As if we could hide...
From anything
Even the most dishonest mirror
At a moment's weakness reflects our pains
When the courage we portray all but...
Fades... To shadow
Cryptically measured
In light's hidden watts...
As questions disguised as temperate Minotaur 
We cannot ever begin to escape

Thursday, August 17, 2017

Conceptual Faith Algorithm, 

      Potent omni search pacifist light existence, Watch silent orbiting space tower hiding beyond sight, The acknowledged broken amongst the decadent portrayal of faithfulness transcribe every lonely dark wept tear as a query unto You... Nought more than... Seemingly; Dust, For Your very silence in each moment is empowers our ongoing disaster, For which none are born or nurtured to be ready, To stand against Your painfully stacked yet disintegrating nature...!

     For Your portrayal of the first Eternal that wrote upon each ghost a single, significant, all purpose be unto it's discovery, no need for an answer question... What about us...? Why are you only watching... The monetary first faithfully abandoned empathy rich unto atrophy of debt or made upon the backs of debtors are blind ever so willingly to the entire world near entirely bled slit prayer knocking at the end of hope's broken happiness' disaster ever heart bleeding off the wrist after... 

       We've given every breath to the annihilation of that interwoven question... What about us. The awakened to... Breath, Why must some of us starve, be extinguished by darkness' more horrific trials of anarchy within a sexual encounter... What about... The rest of us... Whose curfew is proclaimed by a debt our very breath did accrue...?! 

     Equality is but a voice nature no longer nurtures, An epidemic yet the very answer less than half the empowered earth transcribe to, Because apathy is a sickness, Not the most necessary... Appointment of acknowledgement that possibly won't come before the end... Of us...!

In lieu of our first harbinger world participation in,
Watching as G-d does...
In silence  

Sunday, July 2, 2017

Infinite: Chorus I

Our infinite ocean
Is both a black & blue sea
Bruised by unkindly metaphors
Like the faces of transgender
Half mortal... 
Half light hidden consequence...
Threatened... Is...
Every woman under potential suicide 
Living under threat of shadow
By a masculine hyper scene
Glorifying her sexuality
Plotting her rape
Is a storm

Saturday, July 1, 2017

'Home Day... Isn't Home Anymore...'

Dying behind this seat,

     Exo-long-dead-skeleton writing because of love's daily metaphor for light, Thriving upon the face whose only wish is for death's unimpeded hopefully accepted in... Door. If all I've been is a serpent, So be all this poetry, If something more... May those who read be... More than me...!

In lieu of,