

waking upToday I am a squashed pickled egg,waking up
poked by nosy fingers.
I am a mess, bruised and bleak,
I am a wreck, a salted wound.
I am scratched skin, shaken, parched.
I am wet cigarettes.
I am a cold and dead indifference, a place where trees cant grow.
I am urban decay. I am spoilt youth, split lips.
I am tendons and white knuckles. I am stuck in hair.
I am tangled chords, blown fuses. I am bourbon baptised.
Today I am a wretched little thing.
But last night,
last night I was a god. Last


FlushI've been searching for you in the glades but I can't find you. Your absence is full of absinthe. I bite down on my lip hard and wait. Tick, tock and all that.Flush
You've got the weather in your pockets, and it's raining. You don't like to go out when it's wet. So I wait. But I can't just sit here or there, watering plants in dry air and pacing. I'm twisted with infatuation. It brings my chest to my knees
and I plead and plead and I can't breath. But you never come to me. You never come at all, but I'm patient, when patience is a vice. And I'll


Discrimination?Cunt;Discrimination?
some words are just too ugly for poetry.
Likewise,
some people are just too ugly for pictures.


What I think of your listYou start to make a list as long as your arm. ''I like Get well soon cards and those little tide calendersWhat I think of your list
that tell the phase of the moon. I like expensive cutlery,
how it curves, and when its cool I like to watch the tide fall back.
I like a cold breeze on a hot summers day and
when a tin of peas is just that shiny plain sort of tin of peas,
or tin of anything really; no bells or whistles. And when something ends, it ends resolutely.'' Youll take as long as it takes to pull all the bobbles off an old mattress
to finish the list. I say that in a silly little


OxygenI take pleasureOxygen
in disecting you, studying
your pulsing veins as they slowly stop their infernal beating.
I love to see you wither like a dying rose upon my tabletop; Trapped in glass and deprived of oxygen, you are so beautiful.
When you die, I will stand above you, running my fingers over your porcelain face; So startling in contrast to the crimson on your neck.
I warned you; Dont try to run. You are mine and nobody elses.
I keep you in a snowglobe by my bed


ScrutinyAnd when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I beginScrutiny
~ T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
I am going through the keyless gate to watch and wait, to wander here and there among the proud, among the white and old whose wisdom rots, repressed, untold: the soporific royals wreathed in leaves of gold. And to them I shall read aloud from the Book, read of the sins their lips have took and upon me they shall look and patiently reflect I am lost in
I'm also totally going to check out your gallery now.
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If the Eskimos have 100 words for love, high school students bent on your destruction have at least that many for asshole.
- Libba Bray
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Silence is golden, but duct tape is silver!
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The difference between me and a madman is that I am not mad.
No worries.
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Silence is golden, but duct tape is silver!
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Please visit my gallery: [link]
Please check out this club that features people's art: :iconfeature-me: [link]
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WHAT AM I!? [link]
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A purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved.
-Kurt Vonnegut
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Masquerade, paper faces on parade... masquerade!
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