In Turmoil.

In life tossing and turning, I'm shaken awake by the furious action adrift. In my disintegrating lifeboat lit up red by dimming flares, the darkness beneath; showing glittering fangs, beckoning me to fall within. I hold on with a slippery grip. I shake with the cold wetness of the churning sea. The rations sustaining me dwindle and I look ahead to the scowling horizon pit. Where does it lie, the safe harbor fantasy?

Too much.

Too much of a sideshow
It's how much I let others know
About my feelings about you
Not much left to show.

I let my heart sit wet on my sleeve
I let too much leak off of inside of me
I give too much
I give too much away

Emotions riddle a landscape
Swollen streams rushing noisily
Feelings run unabated
The only sound: drip, drip, drip

I let my heart sit wet on my sleeve
I let too much leak off of inside of me
I give too much
I give too much away

I want you to see
How much I think
Your image haunts me
How much I yearn for it

I let my heart sit wet on my sleeve
I let too much leak off of inside of me
I give too much
I give too much away

But you never notice.

Little Death II.

I set out almost every day to find it. That quiet moment which is the loudest sound only I hear. A brief stretch lasting an eternal instant. It's a journey everlasting, enclosed within and sometimes failing. It's the little death.

Infinite.

Standing here, infinite. Waiting in the realm of blades. Paper cut of endless hurts, I pull myself together once again. Standing here, you're wielding the blades rhythmically. Skillful assassin, romantic butcher, carve into me the long blade of your insistence. Your way of blood, in Love.

Little Death.

The little death calls to me with promising whispers and built-up expectations. It wants me and wants, with increasing demands, an offering.

Flame.

My hands burn and are consumed. Blackened, ashy streaking fingers, aimlessly searching the quenching relief from the flame. Burning desire flares and dwindles with familiar end; emptying fruitlessly. It burns.

Simon and Marceline.

Funny how I notice now Simon and Marceline never interacted. But goofy Ice King had done The Vampire Queen a great kindness. Long ago Simon encountered tiny Marceline in the rub-ble. Alone in grief, he soon found her a bright spot she named Ham-bo. "I'm hurting you because I love you," Simon would say when Marceline inquires; why do you come to my place uninvited?

Haphazardly.

I got clumsy and said stupid things. I got clumsy and words fell haphazardly. My words spilled out, blasting out like scattershot. And left your heart in pieces. We throw accusations aimlessly; sticking to walls in crimson patterns of rage.

Imperceptible.

My mind is blank & I cannot find the reason why. It's become hard to find a calming line to explain the wounded expectations. I cringe in horror lasting for imperceptible seconds. It all passes by, tearing a path deeply cutting a gash that festers uncontrollably & I cringe. Model me a life beyond the pictures & articles. Construct me a lie I can simply follow. Make-up a script I can memorize with easy troubles.

Hunger.

Delicious meat, dribbling juice on my chin. Firm resistance as I bite; and my piercing teeth slice. A kiss in Love; my lips on silken flesh.

Hunger.

Delicious meat,
dribbling juice on my chin.
Firm resistance as I bite.
And my piercing teeth slice.
Like a kiss of Love,
my lips on silken flesh.

Subtlety.

Subtlety eludes me when you're near. As you close, I lose. Unrefined impulses overtake me. Touch me subtly and I lose. I get lost on you.

Cruel.

Cruel. It's cruel I stay. Close to you intoxicated. Intolerable desire coursing in strands of fragrance. Bound to you in delightful chains.

Inconsequential.

Tension gathers in steps. It's a little worse each time. I'm with you, but I'm inconsequential. My worth extends only as far as your need.

Obsession.

I'm gripped by obsession thinking of when I was with you. I'm gripped tightly, suffocating in lust unrealized. I'm gripped by obsession.

Everyday.

Turn around. Turn around and see what is waiting. Behind you walks the end. Trailing streamers mark its progress, moving in even steps. Incredible madness sweeps away the fragile. Incredible madness rampages, deep hooves echoing.

The Fire.

Fire burning, dancing figures on the walls. Fire burning, tongues licking fiercely. Sitting, watching the wall lighting up. My eyes seeing ghostly forms. Fire burning, smell the shape reflected. Hotter than Summer, fire burning. Cries rise beyond the walls. Hurried noises filter through the flaming roar. I sit as I'm surrounded.

Dark.

Shades form ahead of me as I'm moving away from bleakness behind. Objects blocking the rays blasting against hard surfaces. The path is hardly visible, the stumbling is easy when my eyes struggle to find the way.

Light.

Chandelier twinkling and sparkling. Sunshine glistening and reflecting. I am sitting and rocking through the visual effect. Shimmering flashes running over my wasting form.

Citizens of The Center

I'm regarded as excess population. I populate the dark fringes. In the edges, I'm the invisible percentage. Didn't you know, there's a surplus population feeding the growing center? Its circumference growing fat. I sit in the corner, fully camouflaged. Hardly noticing the prey, the citizens of the center go on in merry privilege. Stevenson sits quietly staring at the nothing space ahead. His eyes moving this way and that. Light flickering from his pupils.

Celebrity...

Fantastic view from the last balcony. Fantastic view of the dying show. Fantastic view of the falling dancers, forming patterns in the wood. Creating celebrity through tragedy. The falling performers dance pirouettes in the air. Desperate smiles and terrified eyes. Pictures drawn. Hungry predatory audience. Screaming delightedly and amused. Birds atwitter punching letters, rushing through the air, "Come see the show!"

Widening hopeless...

I feel the rip coursing through. The constant wet tear widening. I feel the separation racing forth. The widening, sad expansion of my universe. Further apart the darkness grows, more difficult to see a purpose. Like an expanding universe, everyday my solitude grows: an isolated galaxy endlessly turning. No one sees anymore the glittering hope.

A Year Of Dragons

It's a New Year, full of promise. A New Start for the human heart. A New opportunity for Dark to pass outside our door, stoking the fear of our end. A New opening for the slow creep of despair to move tighter around the exhausted rabbit. A New Year of Dragons coming to consume our little achievements in fire.