The Final Argument of Lovers

Fickle sentiments with rusted diamond edges,

he said she said metronome bullshit breaking waves,

dividing in measured wedges.

Diatribes and verbal lacerations,

hurt soaked souls harmonizing in

beatdown rhythms instead of conversations.

You don’t know the depths to which I’ve gone,

the lengths of patience for love

you feel mislead like this was a siren song.

The end is racing towards us brutal fast

the thought that hateful statements

might be the last interaction is the worst

a feeling like nails in spine

an unending panic attack.

Musings from the Borderlands (BPD)

Tuberculosis in those gasping fits of indulgent wheezes spraying the viscous life goo out in a spray. A misting of not so mild proportions even if the emotional fluid is less clingy initially than blood, it still latches on and shows up in the worst of spots.

The time you decided to gauge your ears and that a pen was the logical jump – pressure couldn’t hold back the infection, or the stable nutrient sludge from leaving a heavy velvet trail down the side of your neck.

Pressure can’t hold back everything, it builds on itself until there’s a raucous and feverish exhalation as the balance shifts and pop there goes the cap.

Just so with love in the quieter stages of a new relationship where urgency tears apart at your genitals, your heart, your mind, and all you want to do is sleep and talk and fuck and cuddle and touch and gaze and there’s a missing component sitting at the back of your mind whenever you’re not around the object of your infatuation soon to beget something more….

It’s an incredible array of emotions that comprise us as people in this world, so much so that the involuntary act of vomiting up a tempest of undigested feels and such onto another can be as easily described in the lead in as something detestable, rather than beautiful.

I know I like to think to that moment when the dam breaks and truest of joys radiates in a way that lets energy ripple its way across the lips and my skin seems to be afire with passionate rightness….love, or anger, sometimes they can be dual sides to the same ride, a peaceful lake to a jet boat ride or some such adrenaline rush.

But man, when I look into those eyes.

I still melt.

Troubled Teen Industry

Sorry Mom Troubled Teen SmokingEverything is about finding your voice,
So here goes,
An attempt to tell a story.
One where the hero and heroine fall short in every category.
They were stripped away at tender ages,
Put in lowly spots,
Locked away in beautiful prisons,
Thrown away into lovely cages.
One was in country and one was out,
One had a religious theme,
The other mind breaking,
Brain scarring and fuck you over was what it was all about.
One chained you to beds with cuffs made of steel,
Let girls kick you in a nightshirt and watch you squeal.
The other was prided on group interaction,
Breaking each other down was the main attraction.
One praised God on a daily basis,
But both praised the dollar sign on a much larger dais.
With the coms blacked out and the parents away,
Most children celebrate,
Act diabolical,
Hell,
Those little fuckers might play.
We put our noses to the grind stone,
Got raped, molested, abused, brainwashed, conditioned, and then some.
Another day in the life,
Of a troubled teen school paradise.