Mirror, Mirror

There are certain kinds of dust monkey who'll eat your fucking face off and vampires who’ll suck up your will to live. When I look in the mirror I see your face which could be the cause of deep self loathing. After all I wear the devil’s face, but I don’t care no more. I learned to live with that and any number of bad trips you laid on me.

So I’m the Antichrist and the bad Buddha. I abide in the knowledge that no man can touch my piece of mind. So I’ll be laughing my socks off come your judgment day.

.

Silenced

I don’t want to talk today
I won’t want to talk tomorrow
the viper that bit me
had a morbid tongue
the bitterest black poison
threatens to drag me down
to my darker layer
but I’ll keep my silence
learn how to bite my tongue
I’ll die by degrees
and keep to myself
the secrets of a lifetime
that was lived in error
.

The Real You

I saw your face
contorted with rage
fierce green eyes
tinted with hate
it wasn’t so pretty
but I think I was seeing
the real you
it struck me as funny
I could not help laughing
you looked so small
and seemed so far away

Birthright

Bake my bones
Brittle and broken
Flay my nerves
Fragile and shattered
I am grist for the mill
Meat for the table
Ache me, break me
Roast me on a spit
Cover me in misery
I am watered down
And poured out
Pain is my middle name
Agony is my birthright
.

Written

You gotta have style
Something you can pour
From a tall pitcher
Into a short glass
That thing that oozes
From you fingertips
And shapes the words
Into shade and nuance
Imagery and thought
Something that says
This is me
Nobody else can do it
Like this
I’m not talking varnish
Not just a thin layer
Style is deep
Your style is you
In the abstract
Stamped into the page
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