trembling doubts
I’m not telling you
I love you
through the haze of
blackened fields
a scorching eye
scanning mine fields
trembling doubts
silencing my
heart
Vibrating Brownies at dawn
Would you love me less
Were I not a daughter
of Satan
The cloven hof
Giving everything you
Desire
The Extacy of
Snake pits and Vibrating
Brownies at dawn
Would you love me less
If I let you
Bleed out
withdrawal, agony, shame
Withdrawing from you
tumbling towards the void
stumbling on unlaced shoes
pain ^ 2 I scream
the hardest drug
today of days
further farther
stumbling on
1.6.8 days WITH
counting the days WITHOUT
the u in you
passing through Middleton
Withdrawal
Withdrawal
Withdrawal
Sucks.
I Lost
I wanted more
you did not
than friendship
follow heart
my feelings obvious
instead followed
for long lasting
advising “friend”
relationship
it won’t last
and love
ignore him
I lost
whistle whistle
4711 the number of
the beast
we were the kings of
the command line
the breakers
the crackers
the phreakers
ruled
the net was young
the rules none
whistle whistle
CONNECTED 2400
midnight sessions of
CGA YELLOW TINTED EYES
The Humble Guys *
Razor 1911 *
ATH and then
some sleep before
starting again
the joys of the falling
nothing
Nothing
NoThing
NOTHING
speaks to me
like the breaking of
the weakest link
the majestic
once standing
now falling
crumbling
I close my eyes
and smile
moment of truth
That sound you hear
is not a sizzler
arriving
it is I
standing right behind you
smoking a stick
of dynamite
awaiting the
mind blowing
moment of
truth
the doomsday bell
I find myself again
struggling to comprehend
decisions made
truths never spoken
the life clock is closing in
nearing three minutes before
a new day begins
the doomsday bell is
calling me
I insist I am
innocent
the blood you see
is mine
I stand by the chosen path
though lonely roads await
my feet afirmly planted
on soils of old
albeit cold
I find a way
to manage
lost again
evil the fluids contained
the metal string wrapped
a foiled neck
a foiled plan
sobriety lost
once again
You need to eat more poetry
uncooked, the virgin shape
sustenance for
wandering souls
hiding in shadows
cast by the moon
void the light
darkness crave
a sacrificing hand
each page
as the moon needs
crying eyes
to wax
the poet
setting words
alight