Panic

Nerves

  jangled

Pocket full of change,

My words escape me.

       Thought fails me.

            Out of range.

I feel doom….

Impending and

   inevitable.

Excitable and

expendable,

     completely abnormal.

Lights flicker

On, off, on

     And Off again. 

No proper Place

to begin

Or end

Renewable fate.

mental gas masks

 Sometimes fail

      To filter out the

Invasion of negativity.

Because you are.

You are beautiful
and you are a reason why.
Like a rose, you’ve bloomed,
and you will die.
This makes you far more precious
Than any gem or stone.
You will never be perfect
And you needn’t ever try to be
Because you, my friend,
Are an inspiring mind, soul,
And a distinct planet of your own.
And neither am I, perfect,
But I hope to be as perfect
to you as you are to me,
In all our imperfection.
And more than there are stars,
I love you just because you are.

Echo’s Wrath

Echo:
Narcissus, I called to you,
And you never acknowledged me.
I spoke words of love and praise
for you,
And you simply sat…
staring into the water,
Seeing only yourself.
Loving only yourself.
You’re so Obsessed
with your own reflection…
I can’t bear to look at you.
Your wretched soul
is painfully obvious…
I see that now.
All I can think…
is how I want to dissect you.
To stop your resurrection.
To peel the flesh from your bones.
To re-wrap you
and make you my own.
Narcissus, can you hear me now?
I suppose I really must begin
my work For you to finally acknowledge me…
It would have been quite nice to
have been noticed
Without having to carve on you.
When you’re begging for the mercy you cannot ever have, just know:
You’ve done this to yourself.
You’re an Ugly, horrid little manboy.
This, too, you should know:
Not even your own mother sat
staring at your face for more
than just a fleeting moment before
she ran, weeping, to her garden where she sobbed in great heaving fits
for her son is so ugly
she just didn’t know
if she could manage to hide her disgust from you.
Your father drank himself
into the grave over that face of yours.
So ugly it has KILLED people.
I’m sure, in my heart,
Narcissus, this is…
the right thing to do…
Or maybe it is the most…
satisfying thing to do.
I’m sorry…
I just cannot continue
Loving you as an alternative.
Let’s get on with it.
Shall we?
Just hold your breath.
Close your eyes,
Brace yourself for a surprise!
Now, if you keep whimpering
in that manner,
I shall have to remove
your tongue and sew up your mouth.
Do you understand?
Narcissus?
Are you ready?

Echo’s Wrath

Echo:
Narcissus, I called to you,
And you never acknowledged me.
I spoke words of love and praise
for you,
And you simply sat…
staring into the water,
Seeing only yourself.
Loving only yourself.
You’re so Obsessed
with your own reflection…
I can’t bear to look at you.
Your wretched soul
is painfully obvious…
I see that now.
All I can think…
is how I want to dissect you.
To stop your resurrection.
To peel the flesh from your bones.
To re-wrap you
and make you my own.
Narcissus, can you hear me now?
I suppose I really must begin
my work For you to finally acknowledge me…
It would have been quite nice to
have been noticed
Without having to carve on you.
When you’re begging for the mercy you cannot ever have, just know:
You’ve done this to yourself.
You’re an Ugly, horrid little manboy.
This, too, you should know:
Not even your own mother sat
staring at your face for more
than just a fleeting moment before
she ran, weeping, to her garden where she sobbed in great heaving fits
for her son is so ugly
she just didn’t know
if she could manage to hide her disgust from you.
Your father drank himself
into the grave over that face of yours.
So ugly it has KILLED people.
I’m sure, in my heart,
Narcissus, this is…
the right thing to do…
Or maybe it is the most…
satisfying thing to do.
I’m sorry…
I just cannot continue
Loving you as an alternative.
Let’s get on with it.
Shall we?
Just hold your breath.
Close your eyes,
Brace yourself for a surprise!
Now, if you keep whimpering
in that manner,
I shall have to remove
your tongue and sew up your mouth.
Do you understand?
Narcissus?
Are you ready?

Love & Misery B.F.F.

Love and Misery often walk
hand in hand, leaving
only damages in their wake.
The two together bind and sever Hearts, minds, souls and hopeless fools
Who never thoroughly consider
just what they’re in for.
Love and Misery share stories
and laughs. They make light
of the unique suffering
Which they, together, cause.
Love never walks very far alone, And Misery meets her halfway,
and they traverse the world
in search Of minds to corrupt
and souls to burn out
of their cages.
The two, on the job,
sometimes cannot be distinguished,
as they work in synchronization.
But Love has fallen Ill
and soon shall die,
And Misery will weep for her loss:
Her most generous companion
To return to the stars
And Misery will no longer be invited, Nor have a place
in any home.
Misery will be forever shunned
and alone. Without Love,
there simply isn’t a reason
to keep Misery as a guest.
No one ever liked her, anyway.

Unrequited CRAP

Forever distant from Heaven,
Heart in stitches,
Plagued with something…
Some vile plague….
The madness sparks fire
In my soul that rages
And burns
and all the rain
That falls from my eyes
Would never suffice
To drown the flames.
My dreams serve
Only to taunt me
And bring back all
That I attempt to bury.
Heavier than I thought,
too heavy to carry.

Bearded Voices

Rasping
Like poor reception
Over-lapping in repetition
Through Cilia Meadows
Fertilized in mucosa.
Syllables ricochet,
and grasp for some relief,
Some freedom
of reverberation
and some care caught
within a sticky trap
Like a roach motel.
Lost syllables
Speak despair
At their task, mission failed,
Abhored,
Bearded voices, and bitter,
Bitter verbal abortions.

My dad thought up this random interesting combination of words:

    bearded voices
    He sent them to me wondering if I could write a poem from those two words. And I did.

Necromanced

A jolt of electricity
Brought me to life
Or maybe I am still dead
But risen and too awake
For the forever-sleep.
Decomposing I was,
But walking as if whole again.
Ailments of souls
Can be compromised and healed
And they will question and meet fate,
To look it in the eyes,
Defying it in the way the dead can
when they stand and walk about.
My frown was turned down,
Backward and somehow
Whole and pure,
but also tainted.
Never have I felt so well
And I will never again
dwell with those worms
Who are so hungry.