Fallen Domain.


What was that you said to me?

How I’ve displayed acceptably,

the writer of my poetry,

the whittler of my money,

my most treasured things,

set on fire and slow burning,

a fuse attached to everything,

a gas tank that’s sputtering;

What was that you threw at me?

When neither of my hands was empty,

you knew I wasn’t at all ready,

to catch something so heavy,

my most regrettable thing,

circling the drain again,

a blue the shade of Dark Navy,

a truth stretched out too thinly;

What was that you stole away?

While I was hung up on yesterday?

the burglar of my sanity,

the rapist of my vanity,

I dare you to walk away,

to turn me into a memory,

a ghost of your pickled brain,

the host of your fallen domain.


window warrior

You look my way and you suppose,

there’s no brain behind my bloodied nose,

you’ve told me time and time again,

how I’ll end up dead if I don’t leave him,

but round and round the tragedy goes,

nursed better, then battered and beaten;

I just can’t seem to stand on my own,

but I know that I should be long gone,

you’ve pointed out repeatedly,

how he will do it again eventually,

and you’re predictions are dead on,

but he won’t agree to let me leave;

not before he steals away from me,

the fading smile I still wear in my sleep,

he can’t lose control that way,

he’ll see me dead if I won’t stay,

he’ll follow my feet wherever they go,

convince people to betray what they know,

he will track me and demand parlay,

then keep me locked up for weeks in a row;

is there actually no hope for escape?

from underneath this deadly weight,

his grip only tightens when I try to move,

once again, I’m sporting his custom tattoos,

that his hatred never lets begin to fade,

I’ve been re-colored black and blue.


A Fucking Rant.


I swear to the Gods: I get no relief from ANYTHING, NOT EVER. I am so crushed into a little, teeny ball of angst that remains plastered up against the wall at all times. I NEVER get space to myself for any amount of time that does me any good – enough time to replenish my frenzied brain or my anxiety ridden body…my roommates are both fucking slobs without a care in the world for anyone else’s comforts or preferences; they both carry on as if they live completely alone when it comes to things that effect all of us; and I am fucking sick of it. I am fucking sick of the way that they seem to almost work in unison to deprive me of alone time – one leaves and the other comes home, etc.

I’m sick of their faces right now, sick of looking at them both with their carefree expressions every day; I am sick to death of the way that one of them watches the same fucking shit Television shows and the same two or three James Bond films over and over and over. Or how he insists on playing his music with the bass turned up so loud, I cannot concentrate on my own tasks in my own bedroom. I am sick of how little common sense gets applied to situations when it comes to either one of them, too…instead of sliding the empty pizza box on its side BEHIND the recycling can, stupidly and mindlessly opting to COVER THE ENTIRE CAN by setting it over the top, instead…wtf sense does that kind of shit make???

Or how my house looks like we’ve been camping in the living room and billiard room for going on 3 months now, as my roommate is also too fucking lazy to put his gear away after using it. The cycle goes like this repeatedly, too:

He pulls out all of his gear and goes camping

he comes home and literally dumps his shit in the billiard room (the room that the front door leads directly into)

he leaves his shit strewn all over the fucking house until he goes camping again



then he gets some wild hair up his fucking ass sometime in early December or so to clean up the fucking indoor campsite at random and puts the shit into the garage (but doesn’t put it up where it all belongs though)

before long, it’s time to go camping again and it all starts anew.


So fucking tired of it. Tired of the way that I can’t keep even the tiniest piece of space for my own use without it being pirated somehow by one of them…tired of how I have to stay shut up in my room because the useless birds are driving me insane, or if they were magically being quiet, the one roommate would be constantly in my doorway trying to show me something on youtube or socknet or Instagram –

“I’m fucking busy, dumbass!!! Can’t you see the document open on my screen and don’t you notice my full attention focused on it???”

Jesus, it’s like pulling teeth to get a mother fucker to just leave me the fuck alone for a chunk of time….always being bothered by the stupidity of their ways, even when I make a point to remove myself from it.

“Dude…I have REAL problems, REAL troubles and strife…you’ll forgive me if I don’t sympathize with your meager and pathetic excuses for reasons to be upset…come back and talk to me when you’re a parent, or when you lose your kid, or when your mother is hospitalized for being insane again, or when your father gets beaten almost to death downtown over your hooker, drug-addicted daughter, etc. Don’t cry to a beggar about having no money or whatever, you seem so miserably shallow when you talk to me about trivial horse shit like you do, when I have REAL struggles to suffer through…damn.”

Why do you slam the front door (that shares a wall with my bedroom, right where the head of my bed is) when you leave for work every morning at 6:30? It’s not as if you aren’t aware that I am sleeping there. Why do you fail to lock the front door upon leaving, while I should theoretically still be asleep? Why do you treat the front porch as a trash receptacle for your garbage from your car? Why do you ever bother with an ashtray at all when 99% of your butts end up on the fucking ground?



Human War.


I remember this strange sense of knowing,

like a bee’s stinger in my fingertip,

a seizure into which I was going,

a heart’s release from salvation’s grip,

the world in my life began slowing,

whittled everything down to a point,

motion seemed to fully stop flowing,

Father Time held Mother Earth at gunpoint;

I remember the certainty of an ending,

at the beginning that was given to me,

all the truths I had been condescending,

appeared to reclaim my dwindling sanity,

there was no more childish pretending,

about how dark I had grown up to be,

the rules would no longer be bending,

I could no longer claim any sanctuary;

I remember breathing embittered breath,

begrudgingly inhaling and exhaling the air,

angry to be on the up-side of Death,

wondering how everything became so unfair,

looking around, I found not too much was left,

and was surprised by how little I cared,

I flailed and stumbled through my own wrath,

the effect of stupid things I’ve stupidly declared;

but I remember too, that Life likes to go on,

how someday it won’t be able to go on like before,

while the heart is young and the will is strong,

we have to live for what we would also die for,

in the light of the moon or the shine of the sun,

we have to perpetually fight the Human War,

we need Father Time to put down the gun,

before there’s no mother to protect any more.





Beautiful, gorgeous, happy glow…
Your Sweetest Nothing’s
put into syllables, for show.
Fiery, wanting…
glued to your face
your mouth’s curves
a daunting place…
I’ve been before
But tell me how – I bow down
into the splinters and cinders
that litter the floors
like your long line of whores
I see them all,
I choose to ignore…
You never answer questions
your many Life Lessons
have taught you little of
the snap inside my rubber glove
We are meant to Own our possessions.
Are we not?
You have seen quite a lot
Of my flesh,
Camera flash;
digitalized dash
in red LED text;
what now?
Onto the next…
Or am I wrong?
Am I dumb
To play along?
See here’s the thing:
I see the strings
Attached to each one
Of your crispy clean
I see the line of
Space and time,
wrapped inside
Of that tattoo –
You were too pure
to follow through…
this hurts miserably;
Yes you , yes me.
Look away if you must
Your face is too much
to see, anyway.
Just go on about your
fashionable way.
You were fine before
I came along
In my string bikini thong
to knock upon your door;
You’ll be fine now,
and I guess…
so will I, somehow –
Just forget it all,
my cries and calls,
forget me
don’t see me…
don’t see me fall.
You won’t believe me,
Your ears don’t hear
a word I say.
Go fucking play
As you have,
each and every day
as it’s passed.
What was that?
What did you say?
“Score?…Because of…?”
And you’re talking about
How I showed
my bare ass to you –
For that,
I counter you:
Mr. Fashionably True,
I hope this finds you well;
I hope it reaches you;
And hits you
makes you hurt
as you’re looking up my skirt…
What’s the score again?
Mr. Hockey Man –
dead red battery
flashing in your corner screen,
you don’t know the bones
that construct Lil’ Ol’ Me,
nothing taken seriously…
so fuck yourself,
good and hard –
multiplied by twelve.
I am a star,
And I will shine in Hell –
Quit kidding yourself.



It’s not like I can claim,

that I am not as much to blame,

It’s not like I

can’t recognize,

can’t rationalize,

conceptualize the game,

don’t think that I can’t hang,

don’t think my mind will change,

It’s not as if,

feelings like this,

don’t define my Everything,

and control the unfolding,

of such events,

the deliverance,

eloquence in my heart’s breaking,

another undertaking,

to the smoky depths,

It’s not like I am blind,

To the ways of heart and mind,

It’s not like I

haven’t memorized,

and compartmentalized,

internalized such decline,

spoken as a truth, confided,

uttered from a mouth, lopsided,

it’s not as if,

all things meaningless,

are deemed as being mine,

not like I cannot stand idly by,

as if to be left alone means I’ll die,

it’s not like I can’t stand upright,

on my very own,

and move my bones,

the blame is mine, and mine alone.



Wrong Day.


There was one day standing out against many,

the very day after I displayed certain insecurities,

the same day you decided to leave me to think,

alone to chew on my own questions and queries.

And I’m gluttonous and over-indulgent this way,

I mind-fuck myself like a whore getting paid,

you must have seen it in every accusation made,

you must have heard it in the words I left unsaid.

Still, you chose that day to cease regular communique,

despite the vulnerability I handed to you only yesterday,

in spite of the painful rub you’ve given my face,

you picked the wrong day to let me walk into this place.