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The Cresent City....I found everything in opulent houses laying on lazy hinges/White paint rubbing off around intrusive keyhole/Slimey streets coursing with blood/Behold!/The King of Trash/Cities made of cardboard boxes and left-over Mardi Gras beads/I've never heard humid, monologue in pornographic sideshops/Sidedoors thrown open as if there is an invisible force that strips the city like aggressive lovers detangling themselves from their clothes/Attractive eyes eccentric in seeking out those with thin barriers/People like the various types of booze in an American liquor store.

Your inspiration is the product of a drug induced stupor.

The new muse being a pill or a drink or a "go."

You thought you were being unique, but you were really just being a dumbshit.

Your art rapes people's souls of beauty, and it can hardly stand up by itself.

It is like you---weak.

Tears do not cleanse anything.

Dirty, little, salty droplets that stain the paper as I try to write.

The bastards they blind me, they can never release me.

I'm incapeable of saying it anymore.

Crying only ink-washes what I never wanted to say in the first place.

It only makes my pillows smell bitter.

It only drains the humanity left in me.

In Helios' Absense

Black frindge and ribbons miles and miles wide cover the day in artificial night.

The time will come when the sun returns from deserts far away.

Now past the sands, Helios is clad in beads of light and sequins and coins.

Alone in my days of night,

Everything is sleeping and cold.

When everything alive is dreaming.

Roses budding remind me of a day when I could see sunlight.

The roads will bring him back to me.

I know soon we will die here without light.

Let the roads make haste.

In Helios' absense,

I have lost my reason for anything.

Through out this profile you'll see poems.....They're mine. So please respect my creations.





In Mind

Adore the beast under your breast,

Beneath your breath,

For he fires black things inside of me.

He makes me lap you up like milk.

He makes you hang me on words like "please" on St. Andrew's cross.

All along you tried to hush your own private convulsions as you bathed yourself in red streams.

He's been eating through the restraints again...

And marks his achievements by leaving scars.