the days were like dying roses
in a decomposing cycle
trapped in clouds of smoke and thoughts
i was saved by a stranger
and released for a moment
the following days felt like dreams
i was too afraid to pinch myself
we met last week
you were like a mirage
i miss you already

He Killed People Like they Were Cops
and Children like they were Women


if i turn the volume high enough
i can escape
the drums are made out of sixty-foot craters
with air tight skins of human flesh streched across the rims
a large man is beating them with sledgehammers
at night i sleep inside them
my stomach feels like it's diving off a stage
my brain is running off a cliff
like a group of bored kids who see a celebrity in public
everyone is completely fucking mad
they are infected with something
they slowly destroyed the ancient cats
the rooms don't have windows anymore
the cats have returned

the room smells like smoke and stale(faded) cologne
there's no need for sheets anymore
im over the empty room again
but i can never kick the smell

There's No Use Cryin' Over Broken Teeth

Thunderclouds attack the repeat button

Stuck with soggy chopped grass

Smells like dust, rain, and recent crimes of passion

Can’t save the busted blood vessels

Can’t prevent the forests from burning down

Coating my sockets in ash from shattered bone

I saw a kid get his teeth knocked out

Now I watch the smoke turn its back as it flows through the open window

Minnie

I suck the poison off her lips

She glides down my throat

Dragging my sanity along with her

As I stare down forty ounces of air

Thinking back to the day my heart stopped

The night I carved her name into my chest

two

I’m in love with disaster, rejection, my life

My Friends that call in sick

I’m in love with 2 a.m.

The spider web violins

And the sad songs they spin

A dim light exposes dust

On Books that should be read

I’m in love with the silence

That screams at 2 a.m.

The Mine Was Shut Down
After the Bodies Were Discovered

12:53 AM: They began by jabbing tiny pins into my feet.

Within that exact span of sixty melting seconds,

I slowly began to forget my mother’s name,

Letter by letter.

Before the new hour I stopped feeling the jagged daggers

I realized I had been transported

I was spinning in a vintage microwave,

with an alarm like a Hollywood fade-out.

Force your hooks into their backs

Drag them through the mine cart shafts

Swallow them like an impressionable teenager

with the belly of a whale and the mind of a goldfish

and a clockwork craving for "whatever they're having."

The last of their words remained scattered in ink

Across the skin-toned canvas.

My first attempt at breaking something beautiful

began as a foolish mistake,

After logic has been removed from their memory,

The miners go back to work

Room 27


I'd like to have a threesome with The beautiful girl across the room

and The lady in the Radiator.

painting for Joey

this is rediculous...



But it's also spectacular

mr dodson

2: 09am

Im listening to weird music

Alone in my room

Vandalizing a ghost town like its 3 am

remembering the days when something always happened

someone was always around

when we were eight years old

wishing we were ten

I want a five-minute Toys ‘R’ Us shopping spree, just like everyone else!

Renee Heartevelt

He pointed the six-shooter at the door and shot her in the face he couldn't live without. He ate her flesh when he woke up. When his shoes slam against the sidewalk, they are free steps he takes. When he walks into a restaurant, he pulls the door back the same way a free man does. When he takes a bite he sees the face that haunts him. I don’t think he wants to forget.

We Watched Eraserhead and

Listened to My War on Repeat

The guys that like mustangs more then women

But always end up in the backseat

Allergic to socializing and peanuts of any kind

I heard them outside

Collecting the filth

I heard them outside

Making their rounds

Tapping on (Scratching) the glass

Looking inside

Kidney Stones

I’m thinking like a parasite

Crawling up inside your guts

Killing us both

Wrapping my claws around your lungs

The days are dragging by

I Can’t keep wasting time on you.

Acid Rain

Stare in your eyes

thinking other thoughts as well

Don't even want to know your fucking name

The actors in my dreams

Make sure I’m always haunted

Pretend not to notice

as he waves his paper cup,

His faded cardboard sign

Dissolved in acid rain.

Sexually Transmitted

I claw at my balls and watch as the dead skin becomes trapped in my unkempt fingernails. I breathe through a paper tube, packed with methanol and tar, and the ashes of third world children who knew too much. I unlatch the dashboard and loose shells spill on the floor and seat. I force down the gas and the turns don’t even matter anymore. The yellow lines are a blur of paint and asphalt. I watch the road with the corner of my eye. The car ride is painful to say the least. I try to avoid their wandering eyes. Before I only suspected what I am now certain of. What else would explain this discomfort? She can’t look in my eyes anymore. After the doctor I go straight home. No point going back to work. An unfamiliar truck is parked in front of my house.
She doesn’t hear the door. Maybe she does, maybe she’s putting on a show. The light reflects off her bronze skin and I can almost see my reflection on her back. My eyes lock on to the first bullet as it surprises the back of her skull. It pierces the bone and gets lost somewhere deep inside her brain. Blood splatters on his mask and handcuffs and for a while he doesn’t know where the fuck he is. The next bullet that removes three toes on his left foot reminds him whose bed he’s about to die in, and exactly whose wife he decided to fuck. Her limp corpse collapses on his convulsing body as he begs for mercy. Bits of brain slide down her hair and are absorbed by the pillow beside his face. I strike his face with the butt of my gun. He’s helpless to the attacks. The steel cuffs grind away at the joints that once connected his hands and arms. He’s shaking so fucking hard that his wrists begin to bleed.
By now im alternating blows between their bloody faces. Chunks of flesh find the floor; others cling to the walls while some stick to the nose of the gun. The blood and smoke fuse together releasing fumes that arouse my nasal cavity. I fire two more shots into his chest, purposely missing his heart and puncturing his left lung. I put a boot through several ribs and his screams mean nothing. Breathing is difficult for a man with one lung and demolished ribs. Technically this man is not dead, but at this point he has nothing left to live for. No logical reason to see his reflection in a mirror ever again. This we have in common. I remove his mask so he can see what a mess he’s in, and understand how similar we are. I press the gun to the side of my head and give him something to think about while he dies in my bed, smothered in my decomposing wife.
I open my eyes expecting to see hell, or a beautiful nurse mending my collapsed skull. Instead all I see is what’s left of her nude body draped over his. Confused at first, I realize my last bullet must have ripped trough his flesh and not mine. I leave him chained to the bed, submerged in his own blood and piss. I scratch my balls as I leave the house, but this time, it feels all right.

Who Cares

You have a dull life

And dull friends

You live in a town named after shit

You remind me of a leech

Stop talking to me

p.s. I drive on the wrong side when im drunk

i pretend im in england

I probably flipped you off

Richard Mandeville VS. The City of Stockton

2: 57PM: The radiation is secretly released into the earth’s atmosphere. In three days they will open the bunker and start the body collection. Three days earlier, they sealed the doors with a twisted smile. They observed the entire race dissolve like acid melting on your tongue. They watched the last survivor’s face as his legs started to decompose. He was left alone to suffer. His eyes kept watching. You forget about his death four beers after hearing the news.

This House Is Contaminated

Shaking off the dreams like a cat soaked in wine

Unable to make sense of the night before

Dragging the comb through the knots in my hair

Scraping at the thin layer of skin and dust

Fixed to my eroding skull

Dragging files to the trash

Clearing out space for the next thoughts,

The next dreams

The ones that come and go

I hold my head under the faucet

The filth is sucked down the pipes

I close my eyes when the mirror comes

The faded slander carved into bathroom walls

Recycled seat covers made out of tracing paper

The soap that comes in bags and smells like burnt plastic