Untitled #45

Lie in your bed,a shut-in died twice.
there's a layer of skin covering your eye.
is it flashy like a mirror,
or broken like your sense of hell?
here's a coupon: one fresh-baked soul,
redeemable anywhere lies are told.

So do you get your truth from the sky?
decoding its mumbles and moans,
translating a letter from each lie:
a form of poetry similar to the sonnet.
What miseries your ego still regrets!
I've fixated my mind, body, and ghost
on the job of attaining,
through the hisses of your biography,
the art of being: loved
by God who's not your god
unless you pay up.

Quote, "i know you know!"
the way that you see each face changes,
the way glitter glows,
when the spotlights hit you famous.
i will forget you!

Your Flesh! is the best baked and tasty.
these mirrors can fib for the right amount of money.
pebbles skip white, all the colors gleam black
red-handed assasin!
de-best-friended; the daggers
still dangle from your bloody back.

you and your dreamt pre-teen fame
that pulses your signal like something sexual
for the Spotlights to discover and claim.
and keep as their's forever,
one fresh-baked style-meister,
yet deceased, but increasingly dead.
but don't you agree it's better
than the chemical burns?
Their Flesh! bubbles like warm bath water.
the acid mutilates!
You deserve the death that you faked.
In the charred Fall air,
where the laws are all the same
but nobody cares.



so i was looking in the stars for an outlet
for the anger their worship created.
more hatred was all i found!
The flow's been disrrupted
chemicals ruptured in my brain.
everything's going to burn
when my ship begins to sink
all i was looking for in the
stars was an outlet
for the anger their worship
of You had created
but all i found was a dream
where we're both deceased.
we were already dead!