I dance on a stage built out of the bones of lovers past,
every step grinds another ribcage into dust,
and the fumes suffocate my lungs until I puke,
but they will laugh and cheer, ‘encore!’

This dance is old,
the jokes are plain,
the act falls apart,
under its own weight,
the weight of mediocrity.

Nothing changes;
everybody laughs out loud together,
and cries in the dark alone at night.

Life continues,
the neverending story of loss, heartbreak and death,
with the occasional tale of love, triumph and life,
to keep the audience going,
and stop them from killing themselves outright,
as opposed to the slow deaths we all work towards secretly.

July 25, 2009

A lightning storm passes over the pavement,
it blasts it’s electricty into the ashphalt,
leaving behind the strong smell of burning oil.

The stench of the inorganic chokes me,
and reminds me of your heart;
the dark void with a lack of a soul.

You’re all chemical and synthetic,
a mixture of burning plastic, rubber, and vinyl,
that smothers oxygen and human lungs.

Your words shoot poison in every direction,
under the veil of love,
it’s time to move on for both of us,
before I light you up like Kuwait,
and let you burn alone.

July 14, 2009

The memory of you has carved itself deep within my heart,
never to be swept away or disturbed until the end of days,
when everyting slides into the void of eternity, mercifully.

Your ghost still materializes sometimes,
and it reminds me of my need to suffer;
I become less complete with each passing day.

All of the ghosts choose their days,
and roar with the voice of broken love,
shaking my soul to its rusted core.

I cough up blood and chunks of oxizidized metal,
until I am heaving for your forgiveness,
that will never come to ease the pain.

The wuthering heights we achieved with passion,
became deadly windfalls in our aftermath,
ascension seemed so pure, but now reeks of shit and hell,
and I’m left to wallow in the death of us, alone.

July 14, 2009

I am shaking apart,
one painful memory after another,
and all of the ghosts of my past,
are threatening to leave me.

I beg for ghosts to keep me company,
in my lonely cold world,
full of faceless creatures,
and the absent hearted.

I can feel my blood turning cooler by the second,
knowing it will be a frigid river in time,
flowing through a black, hollowed heart,
emptied out after the memories weren’t enough to live in,
and reality has become too broken to sustain life.

Life breaks down in these solitary moments,
where friendship is further than sorrow,
and even death.

My body shivers,
my blood grows colder,
a collection of parts that form a cold machine,
where the thought of a soul has become a romantic delusion,
because of all the ghosts and dead space that’s left,
after the ghosts of you moved out with another,
and left me vulnerable and broken down,
my natural condition.

july 14, 2009