a poem

effort social

To destroy an icon in your own mind
is to cleanse your hands
of blood they should rightfully bear

Without the consent of the proles
destruction is not a form of expression
and iconoclasm becomes pathetic

Your mind is a node in a structure
which can be for your efforts
a greater or weaker whole

something

death and coal

The grim spectre of mortality and violence seems to haunt us despite our best efforts to clean our hands of said stench. The grit of an existence in this pit seems to rise up and swallow us despite our best efforts to find life preservers. We become darker grey masses in a sea of consistency and normality, ever failing to become unique.

We are not special, and to try is to fail.

The best we can do is hold our breath and keep the fragments out of our eyes.

a poem

life

void
joy
pain
repetus ad mortum
pain
joy
void

a poem

ourobouros

I criticize myself
consequently I wonder
if perhaps through my criticism
i exhibit melodrama
of a more insidious kind

I wonder what
as you read
you will think of the poet

The fundamental insecurity
that drives one into public display
emotional instability

By acting in an unpredictable manner
i serve only to highlight the fundamental
predictability
of life.

a poem

slowly cramping

The filter of my mind's eye
a sieve
it removes what I want to see
for, having seen it
I would no longer desire its sight
and my life would fall
back to its peace
its worthlessness and lack of hope

The filter of my wrist
a sieve
removing what I want to say
for, having said it
I would no longer have anything to say
and thus
I die

a poem

love also known as sorrow in this filth

Nobody loves him
or more clearly
he loves nobody
who loves him
He sees nothing
and sees nothing
yet sometimes
once in a while
He understands
and understanding
offers him nothing
Happiness is to
lose his mind

poems

good kid

I try
i want to see
i'd like to know what happens

bad kid

I've tried
i have seen
i know what has happened