The Title of something youre the only person reading.

Sore back
and blistered feet.
walking for weeks
in an afternoon day dream.

The sun
it bursts
like vegas lights
when the power switch get thrown.
A supernova
we are eclipsed

my brains
spilled out
across the fractals of broken glass
that complete the street
you grew up on.

the fire
burns deep
like coal shoveled into the furnace
of my inner peace.

I slip on
old shoes
that know how to walk out of a thousand doors
but cant learn to feel welcome
in any city.

I cant
stop this
from happening.
with chewed nails
i refuse to except
my failures as fate.

i leap
to have faith
in something
like the early Americans
once did.
Geronimo.

We searched
for the holy spirit
in between vanilla tits
deep thighs
and tained glasses
Finding cursed nights
with demons
pouring ectoplasm
all over the bathroom sink

A psychic
witnessed
the promise land
She whispered
in her raspy cigarette voice

What the fuck
Does it matter
with the price of tea in China
how your movie ends.

Everything is about someone else
fade out of focus.
To Black.

Transylvania on the radio.

I grind my teeth
expelling steam
mashing gears
picking scabs
burning bridges
feeling the gravity of a world
with no feeling.

You walk down the empty streets
in a haze of memory and false senses
of "I've been here before."
Ive done this.
many times
finding my hands shaking
before the sun comes up
smoking cigarettes
unsteady
like a house of cards
around the windy kids.

Through the years ive
molted & evolved
the thickest
skin knives and tongues alike
dream of invading my carapace
like wooden stakes
This would be a vampire embrace.
Bibles on dressers
and money on the glass.

we lived like movie stars.
and ended up nobody's.

We'll always have Romanian sunsets.

Watch Maker - INPUT 2

Some days i have faded spots in my vision.
A psychic once told me that was the fate changing before my eyes.
A shaman told me it was the moment past lives over lapped in similar circumstances.
A doctor told me it could be diabetes.

--

How it would feel to just exist on the background landscape of my mental plain.
Knee deep in a shit storm of spinning lights and whiskey flavored pipe bombs.
How the sensation of falling stars clashing against my chiseled upturned spine.
The hollow sound when old spirits of my short life come to visit
and watch an interesting young man
become that weird old guy.

The projected blue body
masturbating in the night
to highschool panty dropping day dreams
the way you used to stain a dress in a high class
establishment.
Smoking the devils lettuce and inner city church hymns.

A golden fleece draped over my ghost
keeping all the demons at bay
til the moon crashes
the way my pupils dip south
as my eyes roll back
and im covered in my
good fortunes.

god let me live.

All my friends are in valhalla

One of my friends died.
A girl killed him.
he loved to ride bikes.
We partied.
We Giv'r'd
We miss him.
-RIP JJ.

--
I cut the sun
with a flea market straight razor
depicting wolves in the wind
a gypsy once told me
would free my strings.

I bled for two years
and i havnt herd a beat since.

Dracula drain
the molten ember blankets
my skin
flooding the holy city
evaporating the shadow
leaving a neutron star
at the heart of my spirit.

Climbing mountains
rolling out of bed
minutes tumbling
from a digital clock
as i drift from room to room
haunting my own inner child.

The pressure
panic attacks
mine shaft temporal lobe
collapses
have diamonds
compressing black lungs.
a fortune in a deep breath
the world turns dark
the noise drowns out...
i am at the center
of the universe.

A guillo-teen
the youth of a deep south wizard
doing necromancy in parks
after dark
with kids
from the void
and highschool.

we burned the photo albums
things like this were slide shows
from deathbed memories.
Documenting a miracle
just makes magic
science.

I cant break into jukeboxes

Red Rover
Red Rover
Lucky
Four leaf Clover
destroyed
and rebuilt every day over.

Brain storm
give birth to flashes of
the olden times
before the temple
she was caught fire
prospects
of a rebel lost in the night.

Fast train car kids
watching the white lines too long
road hypnosis
with pantie overdoses
limp dicks
and coffin kisses
Malatov sun rises
burning bones
to keep the skin warm.

We ran out of last nails driven
at least five fucking nails ago.

Bandits holding
smoking pistols
escaping through windows
into vanilla sheets
with demons and tits.
Finding honor where it doesn't belong
never respected

this was never a heroes song.

i wish it was.

American Heartland Vol I - Domino Effect

You were the fence god
pinned up barb-wire wrists
with a lonely son
who prayed
till he fell
and the constellations
were exposed across
a battered back.
washing the blood
would clear a conscience.

Gravel dug-in knees
palms in the dirt
the levitation act begins.
God forbid a helping hand
pivots my way.
The glory
of sweat on one mans brow.

The loneliness...
such a glassy constant setting.
the projecting blue glow from a television
into vacant unblinking eyes.
The revelation
of the present and future
intersecting at the sound of a metronome.
The houses heart keeps beating
its self to sleep night.

Claymore Facial.

You feel awkward
being the only person
in modern society using sun guides.
Buried treasure never took anything but a little spirit
and a timely manner.
Just a few years too late. . .

I am expelling hate
like a blanket of muted volume
that shakes the walls.
I cant understand how
to feel as more than just one
unknown son.

two
times i tried knocking on your door.
in the rain with a heart
that just wont stop beating
like my ghost is being carjacked.

Now i smash empty bottles in telephone booths
bleeding into the mouthpiece
how it feels to believe in god
and know he fucking hates you.
or just loves watching the devil
give you handjobs in the gutter.

i just want to believe
in something better than this.