Dinner Date

He picked me up at 7
Just like he said
All slicked back hair, shirt and tie
Perfect gentleman
Object of my desire
I couldn't seem to move
My breath a gasp
That caught in my throat
Held by the heroic heart in his chest
Saving the damsel from falling
At this Muse's feet
Because I will be who I am
All words, emotion and superciliousness
I will not be dictated to, controlled or held back
With the muse ready and willing as the
Vivid vessel for my viscid viscera
I will lay myself out here
Moral for your propriety
Naked for your pleasure
On a line that is so blurred
It's almost as invisible
As a line of coke
Snorted off my cock
But I digress

He drove me to Distraction
The favored diner for the preposterously psychotic
Perfect gentleman
Object of my creativity
I couldn't seem to speak
Because I will not move, bend or break
Here in the auspices of such company
The art will take control
The muse will stand on the table
And shout depraved and shameful desires
A test of the mettle for the most eager
Who will listen? Who has the balls?
And who will answer back
Climbing to meet him
I move as poetry with arms and legs
To lay down with him and whisper back
I want you inside me
Please come inside me
Grab this muse by the scrote
Just to pull him in
And he'll love every thrust
Until it all explodes in inked cum stains on the page
A Jackson Pollock of dark secrets laid bare
Before his broken promise to always be there
Cracked open, fragmented as the mind of
This musing Madman

And in the end
It will be me that is left standing
Boot atop the spent, exhausted muse
Fist clenched and ready to battle
Allegory, Alliteration, Simile and Verse
Because I will be who I am
All words, emotion and superciliousness
I will not be dictated to, controlled or held back
With the Muse ready and willing
I will lay myself out here
Armed with more words than can be spoken
I am my own muse.
Shirt and tie. Bearded smile
Object of your desire
Ready to catch you by the breath I grabbed from your throat
Nightmares playing reel to reel between your ears
Now I lay you down to sleep
Hear the depraved and shameful desires
That make you want me inside you
Walking through dreams from which you'll never wake
Waiting. Watching. Whispering.
I am God here
You will worship me.

Borderline

I used to sit down and the words poured out
The depths of my soul carried so much dark pain, beauty, love and poetry
I couldn't keep it inside.
These days,
The muse plays hide and seek
Showing its face to whisper in my ear
In that place between asleep and awake when dreams are real and life is hidden away
Today, I walk like a strung out porn star
Spilling out tried and true poetry with hat in hand for just a little coin
Exchanged for the good service of my verses
Interruptions to the process create a disjointed connection in the words
Taking me off course
Up, down and all around
Into the places I never wanted to go until
I'm here
Alone
Battered (but unbowed)
Bruised (but unbroken)
Bottled (but unbridled)
Now I sit down and the words are trapped inside
With no poetry to explain the things that are happening to me
When there are no words to convey the black and white shades in which I see the world.
I never thought a rainbow of gray would brighten my day
Yet here we are
On the Borderline
Approaching this crossroads 
And it finally becomes about choices
Do I choose to burn out?
Or do I choose to fade away?
Is it better to rule in hell?
Or is it better to serve in heaven?
What is real?
Or What is imagined?
I write like a child afraid of the dark
With just enough light to keep the monsters away
Sitting amongst all the broken mirrors
Never looking It in the face
But always scratching the itch left from healing wounds
Some self-inflicted and some received cash on delivery
When I already have IOUs instead of fucks to give
And I find myself praying for the peace of a coma
The calm of knowing I'll never let you down again
Instead I sing the words
"It's just a trip not a way to ease your pain"
Coming down to place the mask securely over this facade
I realize that the Monster's Muse is shared through the magic of alliteration
And I no longer need a mirror to see
The twisted parts inside of me
And the face only a mother could love
As she walks out the door
Promising a better life
Delivering better lies
And so here we are
On the Borderline
Drawing me closer
Ready to sell my soul
Signed, sealed and delivered
Soaked in the blood of innocents
While I pretend I'm amazing
Walking in the empty trail left by my lies
Toward the promise of a love
Secure in a sense of belong
Until that secret weak spot shows
And I'm left
On the Borderline
Standing alone while I fall
Just to feel better

My Friend

Will you be my friend?
When daylight fades to darkness
And I call you beautiful in the moonlight
Will you hold my hand?

Will you be my friend?
After everything and
When Everyone has gone away
Will you be the one?

Will you be my friend?
Everlasting and steadfast
When I stand alone against my own rage
Will you sing to soothe me?

Will you be my friend?
As the sun rises over the horizon
And your eyes light up my world
Will you see my smile return?

Will you be my friend?
 A lone voice above all the others
Will you help me return to Atlas' shoulders
When the weight of the world has gone wrong again

Will you be my friend?
After everything
Will you take my heart away and leave
Me and you against the world

Me and you against the world.
My friend.

Please Don't Kill Yourself

Please don't kill yourself
The simplicity of the words shock me
And in the moment I hear them I realize that no one has never asked me not to do it.
I mean, sure, sometimes people would tell me it was dumb
or that I shouldn't be thinking that way or even giving me the laundry list of things I have to live for which proves that they don't understand what depression and suicidal ideation are like to begin with
but to say "please don't kill yourself"
Never
And in the quiet and simple request I found a pause
A single moment
Frozen in time and light as leaves fluttering on the autumn breeze
And I danced in raindrops that would never hit the ground
Moved between my own thoughts that would never reach my consciousness
I  shouted poetry so loud it echoed off of the walls of my own empty mind
Taking up the pause with the simple beauty of realizing
Everything that broke me no longer makes me who I am
And in the quiet and simple pause I found a fear
A single thought
Running through my veins like ice frozen to sharpened stakes in the cold winter wind
And I dodged them as they fell at my feet
Until I stood caged in a wintery prison of my own making
Bashing my head against fear itself never knowing
That breaking is not a reason to bleed
This juxtaposition of pause and fear
Holds a quiet dignity and beauty all its own
A majesty and poetry that I live for
And as I write the words
I know that therein lies the key to my salvation
And I dance in raindrops that would never hit the ground
And I dodged them as they fell at my feet
Everything that broke me no longer makes me who I am
Because Breaking is not a reason to bleed.
Please.
Please don't kill yourself.

Remember

This is a poem
To tell you what you're going through now is worth it.
I mean, that's what you always say.
But I want you to remember it.
I want you to feel it and know it.
Take it inside you and let it really fill you up
No. I mean REALLY fill you up, like a lover with a horse cock.
So that when you look in the mirror
All strung out with dark circles and tracks from dried tears drilling lines in your face
You'll know
You'll remember.
I want you to look at the sink and see
Crimson black, spilling into the water
The mess you've made of someone's dream
Go on, look at it
And remember
Remember every second of it
Lay in your bed alone
Cold and scared as a child of the dark
Too tired to sleep and too afraid to dream
Do you remember yet?
Good! That's real good.
Now start telling yourself its worth it.
Try to get up and lift that weight from your shoulders
Nevermind that you knew that's where it would fall
Go on, get back up you piece of shit
Get up and deal with it because this is what you wanted
Isn't it?
That's it. Just relax and let it happen.
Let it inside
Feel it in every corner of who you are
And let it embrace you, hold you
The only one who ever understood you
And you want it.
You know you want it.
Let it inside you, fill you with its seed
Make it a part of you
Your dark lover, your steady friend, your ongoing nightmare
Always remember that this is worth it.
Always remember that you asked for this.
Always remember what you really are.
Remember how special it really is, this relationship
Remember it when you cry at the beauty of the sunrise
When you think to kiss your lover like its the last time
Think to today, with blood on your hands and darkness in your heart
And laugh with your child
Never forget this pain and never push it away
Because you wanted it
You welcomed it
This is a poem to remind you that you chose blood, bile, tears and pain
All for Love, and poetry and beauty and laughter
Now look around at the ruins you've made
For a few moments of peace and a few hours of pleasure
Look at it again.
Remember.
It was worth it.

January Friend

Shall I call you,
January Friend?

Funny we should meet,
In pure imagination.

Your embrace is but a memory,
Wrapped in smooth opium silk.

It caresses me softly,
The image of yesterday's tomorrow.

Forever you will be,
January Friend.

With halo slipping,
Dancing with the dark.

A liquid waltz,
Around deceptive pillow talk.

Little lies,
To inspire a respite of dreamless sleep.

Here we'll be,
January Friend.

Alone in the stars,
Separate and together.

A perfect yin and yang,
Proud in its equilibrium.

From infinite possibility,
I'll heal without you.

What's the Endgame?

I've been doing this a long time. Feeling the feels and then explaining them with all the words in the lexicon at my command. The problem is, words can't explain feels. You can't apply logic to the beauty of a sunrise. Talking about love is like dancing about architecture yet I can build an empire and defend all the lands in my dominion with the very same words.

Acting like I'm in control, watching it all meander through my wispy consciousness. It rises from my head like the steam from the first cup of coffee in the morning. Bitter and sweet and keeping me alert at all times. Take it in, tasting all of its acidic truth; the seduction of its arresting intensity an elegant testament to the subtle art of bullshit.

I set out upon the road less traveled; a trip to ease the pain. Driving so fast and far away I forgot what I'm running from, blasting music and lyrics so loud I can't hear the voices in my head anymore. A trip to ease the pain, I can laugh at the sad clown in the corner and I can cry for the Harlequin waiting in the room for the happy ending that will never come.

Reaching in my chest I pull out a patchwork heart; every stitch tells a story. A tale for the heartbroken and a happy ending for the heartbreaker. Its cracked and scarred surface recounting endless nights alone wondering which turn was the wrong one. Every handicapped beat pumping the last drops of hope into the chasm of loneliness that can never be filled.

Yeah, I've been doing this a long time. I've stepped on fuzzy landmines, I've laughed through bottomless pits and pratfalls that make it all look like well choreographed slapstick. Never forgetting to make them laugh and keep them guessing, because the truth is boring and just a little bit wrapped up in itself. This clown demands applause at his show.

So I lay here, bleeding, battered and bruised; and all I can think is what an awesome alliteration that really is. I can't move but dammit I'm poetic! I experiment with the words, shape them into my armor and wear them to hide it all away. Meanwhile, I bleed out all the aspirations of yesterday, drowning in my own sin, sinking to the Great Below.

The truth is, my shoulders hurt from carrying the weight of the world and every wrong laid at my feet; building a cage around my heart. There's this post-traumatic thing, letting all the coldness of honesty seep through the cracks of the foundation; but I've always said the truth is best when spoken brutally. Look at the teeth that want to bite the hand that feeds; they're in a pool of blood on the floor.

Timing is everything and this time was all wrong. A clock-faced mirror showing a raw, open wound draining blackened puss onto my head for no reason other than, "I don't know." The reflection clouded by the power of a breaking heart, hidden by all the bad intentions I'm guilty of. A defining humiliation that knocks at the door demanding attention.

I dare not ask why all I see are barbs and wire inside of me. Surrounded by monsters of my own design, shedding tears of joy at the beauty of their torment. Here in this room built with my own two minds; walls both old and wise in a hiding place where I can never hide. Still I'll walk against the wind resisting the temptation to give up changing all that resists giving into change.

Arriving at last, the devil's face in front of this sad man; are the tears a sad goodbye or a happy arrival to the inevitable hell being built all these years? I couldn't reveal the point if I'd written it myself. This is not a way to ease the pain; a sad man with hands in a bloody sink. The flip side of sanity is to play this game to its end. Declare the winner. I've been doing this a long time.