Man In The Radiator

 I'm begging for a timely end to all of this.  Same Old Shadows   Pig masked martyrs  Dissolving to diseased bursts of rose petals In a synthetic wind Isolated patches of primordial forests In manmade stasis of destruction  Wearily creaking inwardly, Asphyxiating the contemptible soil. Scars of bleeding hierophants line the spiraling path  Sky above, a boiling black mausoleum And haphazardly stitched together  Expressions of mockery  Watching on the wings crashing into  Worm-eaten remnants of the sun.  Burnt leaves suspended in choking dusk  Dead branches stretch out, Growing calliope-sounding bells Beholding erratic cacophonies, violently turning all surrounding animals inside out, Screaming in cold destitution.  The localization of all confusion, Empty space, And compounding hate. It's at least now clear enough  That my eyes are still fixated on  The same welcoming arms of viscous shadows  And painfully flickering nightmares Assimilating all irrational thought. All I can reme

  Slip Spiral expanding, The long way down  Finally catching up Swallowing cavern of barbed shadows  And acidic flares  Corruscates beneath  The expanding desert snuffing out Malnourished flames of rationality  Left burning behind my dying eyes.  Sleeping to armageddon  Carefully manicured porcelain mask shattered  Carve me out a new face  A grimacing pierrot Something able to properly emote As a noose of knotted black hair  Reeking of rotten cherries and tongues laced with tobacco  Stitches its way through the leech-like  Laceration across my neck. Regression setting in  I’m ready to let everyone down. There’s only one coping method left.   Deliver me from the irreversible, Erase my scars and gift to me A brand new canvas of flesh  To slice repeatedly into.  I’ll always return To a thousand faceless, weeping gashes  And comfortably gleaming cold steel.  Pale light spins  Wraps itself around the world And wrings out all meaning,  Anything logical, nothing able to properly get through. 

 I am more than confident that I am absolutely doomed. If the end doesn't come soon, then I'll bring it upon myself before too long. "Everything's backwards." There’s No Me, Anyway .  Ringing of insects Through scabbed-over stigmatas in the sky Night boiling over with sarcophagus steam, An abandoned station in a cloud of dead prayers, A rotting arcadia lies within Where all great-horned animals Gore themselves  And mindlessly breed in their entrails. A pink quivering nothing Coiled in shameful, forced existence, Cosmic accident of birth, It crawls its way out with burning limbs And fails to drown  In the flowing river of decomposition, Wailing into inescapable psychosis, Calling for the welcoming talons Of anemic vultures.  Reared in a caravan of lepers, An endless ballet of depravity, Rhythmic flash-bangs of black-out anger, Canvas stretched over the imperfections Painted over with a menagerie of  Other’s compounding sorrows. Waiting for the parasites to fill in

Untitled Grief The path through our consecrated grounds Obliterated. Last remaining dead trees uprooted Or in a state of permanent immolation, Softly rumbling storm clouds gather  Never to depart, The dirt is nothing but frozen tears and Dried-up, crackling entrails. It all died so long ago, Yet a distant, solemn heartbeat  Still occasionally pulsates  And echoes back to me, I look to the ground and see my world Disappear.  Visions of the first time  We watched the moon rise Past disintegrating brick buildings, Illuminating stagnant rivers of Stretched skin and Severed bridges weighing heavy  With our unexpectedly numbered days, Embraces my sleep and pollutes my shadow  Trained to look away from it, Let it fade, I stupidly refuse  And reopen still-unhealed cuts  Where you reside, gazing at me With your draining light  And venomous whispers.  “Come and rot”  This lingering, drifting desire Makes no sense to me,  It's permanently entwined in Shredded robes of pallbearers  That follow