I have no secrets,
Not even the color of my fecal matter as it hits the water.
I am a rape victim,
Spread eagle in the crime scene,
Panties on the front lawn.
I am your child in the third grade,
Learning about fornication and procreation,
While the teacher screws the lawn boy.
No matter where I turn
It seems the eyes are there,
Sponges in a brick wall.
This is my way.
That is your way.
I have no secrets.
You know the blood in my veins
Before I do, don’t you?
I’m not paranoid, it’s the truth.
I am the molested child,
Sitting in my corner
While the man goes on TV,
and tells the world how shitty his life was.
If you kill me,
Can I kill you?
Beat you,
Teach you those lessons your mother didn’t tell you.
Kick you,
Hit you,
Mistreat you.
I have no secrets,
That much you know.
This rotted flesh,
These broken bones.
What more is there for me to tell?
If you know all that I am.
I have no secrets,
I am bare.
Chasm red within my soul,
Never tears to make me whole.
Sometimes sinister in my heart,
these dreams are tearing me apart.
No place to hide myself within,
just a girl made out of tin.
Such a suttle thing,
to see the sadness that you bring.
Were I strong I'd tear you out,
Just to show you what I'm all about.
Chasm black within my head,
all the words that you have said.
Rain down on me vicious one,
painful ray from your dark sun.
Nothing is so darkly true,
as the lust of me for you.
Chasm white as all is gone,
coming is a brighter dawn.
But I know that deep inside
there's nowhere for me to hide.
For when the sun has set again,
to your will I will bend.
Shingles on houses that I have never seen,
mixed up memories of places I will never see again.
Times when the rain fell,
times when the sun forgot to rise.
Somewhere in this tangle there is an open wound,
somewhere a child is crying.
Smiles in joy that I can not remember,
random thoughts spilling out of my mouth.
This is you,
but once it was me.
Somewhere past the bramble surrounding my heart,
somewhere past the deep green forest in my mind,
somewhere a child is cringing in the dark.
Balanced scales in a life that I will never have,
a red rose from a love that I will never know.
I am painted white,
red hands down my naked flesh.
Somewhere a star is falling,
somewhere that I belong.
My wasted noise is overcome
inside and out.
There are things I want to tell you,
things I know you won't understand.
There are places filled with ash and brine,
there are places filled with muck.
I wrap them all in wine dark silk,
I push them down
down.
Somewhere god is calling,
Somewhere they're coming home.
Somewhere there are happy things,
somewhere there is life.
I am not in pieces,
though I know I am not whole.
Some place deep in side the flesh,
perhaps I hide there still.
Ballad of the Unclean
I see obscene thoughts drenched in moonlight.
I am the twisted youth of a broken nation.
See through my eyes, and see the world in its true form.
We are the children of conformity, trapped in the illusion of anarchy and rebellion.
We know nothing, and we see nothing as it is.
We are lied to, and we drink it from a broken cup, a glass goblet of pain slicing at our lips.
Life is agony and that is what we expect, that is why heaven is the illusion, and hell is reality.
I have met the devil, and he wore a flag of white.
He was the devil, and I knew him as such.
When we spoke, I knew he was a broken child of god, and yet his words were the same as mine.
If I was a child of earth, and he a child of oblivion, what was there in between.
Our two worlds have mixed, and there is nothing else.
I have seen god, androgynous and supple, weak as a kitten, strong as good liquor.
If this is blasphemy, I would say let me rot in hell, but I am already there, so why not converse with my god.
My god is not black, and not white. My god is neither male nor female.
My god is understanding.
I stood against his face like a wall of torment, and spit in it.
My god forgave, and I am still alive.
I suppose that is my blessing and my curse.
I saw the world crumbling today, the masses of society swirling around one another in brutal chaos.
I saw the future in every step I took, and trembled.
If this is the world today, I don’t want to see the tomorrow of tomorrow.
The world is a rusted coffin filled up with maggot ridden bodies, and an excess of postulation.
The hands still move, the eyes still flicker.
I shiver, they are still alive, and don’t even know they are dead.
I looked at myself and wondered if I too was this thing, this maggot engorged body walking around deceased on my two legs.
I look around to see who else is walking with me.
I can’t be alone in this feeling.
I can’t be alone.
The night is an empty thing.
There are no beautiful things in the night for we worthless creatures.
I want to reach up and run my fingers through the velvet sky, melt the stars into my eyes, and drink up the moon.
But there are no magical things on this earth for us, for me.
In the dark though, we are free, free from those things that stab at us like knives.
In the dark we are children again, small and helpless in the laps of our guardians.
We are in comfort.
We don’t know why, but we know its there.
I suppose these things are our bits of magic, thrown up like sparkling pieces of glass shattered behind our eyes.
We are these things and they are as we are wont to be.
My face is screw up into a mask.
I wonder if others see it or if is just me glaring in at my other self from a broken mirror.
I’ve cut my hair.
I've cut my skin.
I’ve spilled my guts out onto the floor, and my life into the ear of a companion.
I am nothing, and yet I am everything all in the same.
Can you be everything as I am?
Or do I have to do it all my self.
I want you to come into my world you the twisted youth in the front row, eyes glazed with anticipation.
I want you like a bad habit.
Like a drug.
I want you in the most impure ways.
DO you want me too?
This is the ballad of the unkempt, the unloved.
Do you share my world, because I no longer wish to walk it alone.
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