Monsters

You spend years hoping for someone to love, and there are those just waiting for you out there, people who hide the fangs and sharp talons in their skin bag garbs. Those people, some would call them people, are the true monsters that hide under your bed, behind the curtains, in the dark corners. They await a chance to sink their teeth in, to rip you apart, because they don't know better. Animals, they are no better than animals. All they know is pain and carnal pleasure, it is all they seek. This planet just happens to be inundated by them right now, they are all over. It is hard to imagine a world free of them, it is impossible. They are what nightmares are made of, they are the creatures that you have feared your entire childhood, the true inspirations for the vampire and werewolf, they are sociopathic, killers, and would eat you whole if given the chance.

So don't give them the chance, don't allow them in. Who are they? How can you tell? I pray you tell, for I cannot show you the way, I have only just started to realise the dangerous beings that roam in the darkness, seen their eyes, felt their teeth, lost a limb or two to them. I am just here to warn you, beware.

I Am Forgotten Emotions.

A sacrifice in the park

to the pigs with their guns

searching boys in the dark, I beg forgiveness for you—

you are sent home;

meanwhile, I am jailed over and over,

spending a night of Police harassment with a head full of acid,

each time you slide your access card

to the places where you

wouldn’t be allowed in otherwise.

I am your forgotten emotions.

Now you, that first lover,

I am the pain in your heart—

those scars left behind from a series of kisses,

a gentle touch, the words I love you are

over and over, carved inside its walls

reminding you of the sacrifice we made

in order to keep your youthful allowances,

each day I wonder, was it worth it?

I am our forgotten emotions.

I carry the numb places in your memory

where once shone the abscesses of childhood trauma

which removed and dissected for you

keeping you sane through hell and back,

are then swallowed and absorbed in this psychic

vessel, burrowed to purify deep inside.

I am your forgotten emotions, watch them as we bloom.

I’m here to remind you,

you, the one with the pedigree,

that I remember how you walked up to the bar

during our friends birthday party, you were dressed

like the beautiful whore we all know you are,

flirted with me, then said “Gosh, I’m mean!” giggling to yourself,

walking away laughing, I was a joke to you,

but I never laughed—

when your story was something to listen to,

when my shoulder was all I had to offer you,

and your broken heart was all I meant to mend.

I am your forgotten emultion.

I am the nexus of abhorrence, your loathing,

something to talk about over a beer—

another one of the horrible people,

keeping your friendships glued together,

kindling for your hatred,

when you can’t talk shit about one another

in fear that in turn each will know the truth,

you, with the faces like revolving doors.

This is for you.

To each and every one of you—

I am the louse in the corner,

the weirdo in black,

the one you’ve all turned to when no one would listen!

Look here, don’t advert your eyes,

I am here to remind you

that once your emotions were real,

not make believe, nor shadows of their former selves.

I am the luxury of forgetting

passed around a table

full of empty rotating faces

all stuck drinking from bottomless places.

but now I am no more for you or any of them,

you’ll have to face the truth of each other,

Adieu.

I am a Black Star

I was born the day you died,
thirty one years ago—
I was reborn when you died,
yesterday mourning.
It all started eighteen months ago:
our slow death.

I Bow to you, master smith of universes,
Mighty Goblin Disco King.
You pass the torch on to the world
waiting for the next Black Star to shine,
we are many, a legion of your children
all awoken by the changes in your persona
arranged movements of your beauty
all spoken, sung, made into discourse
of falling walls, bullies pushing,
drugged out evenings, dancing china queens.

I breathe, because I once saw the light which took you,
it said that it would be hard
it said it would be difficult
yet I know it was love which spoke to me,
it was love you went towards,
it is where we all go,
Us, Black Stars.

You deserve each other, you and those monsters

There is no easy way to say this

but I've been thinking about turning

not running but rather

kind of like a werewolf thing

unexpected, transcendental,

not a kin to your kind anymore

I mean, who would want to be?

To be known as your ex lover

to be seen as someone you once held

it is repugnant, to think I shared myself

to the last drop, with the likes of you

your family, your friends, the lot of rats

merely scrapping by, because that is

all you know and can do.

Once I tried to help you, twice I did lift you up,

and yet three times you did betrayed me, then the fourth

you left me to die in their hands.

You knew exactly what you were doing

taking away from me all that I held dear

my own choice to say yes or no, to consent.

To you it was just a game to play

just another piece of meat to bite into.

I loved you, and I gave so much of myself to you,

and as before I was betrayed by a most heinous of acts

done by a heartless bitch just wanting to get rich quick

because you never knew how to sell your mind

the work you did with your hands wasn't enough

if it wasn't holding onto someones cock

and you couldn't do any good talking with your mouth

so you had to get on your knees and pray for milk

with your baby boy so he could eat.

You deserve all you get,

all of the lies you are fed,

all of the people who will use you,

you deserve each and every moment you hate

the smell of the garbage pickers on top of you

because your love is something to be sold

because you can be bought and traded like a commodity

there is nothing about you which is redeeming,

there is nothing about you which can be saved.

I do not want to belong to the same genus as you

I do not wish to be cataloged among the same lines

as someone who will sell their own blood young and fragile

as someone who will take pure love and corrupt it with hate

To be with you was a learning experience of all I do not want

To be with you was a task to be completed in order to grow

Now all I can think of is making my memories of you disappear

Now all I can think of is remembering you so I do not forget

Why I want to become something else
Why I want to be free of you.

Conversation With a Recovering Sex Worker

"They all have a prize" she said,
"Each woman out there is willing,
has, probably is at this very moment,
selling herself for something.
Some do it for love, others for money,
there are those who do it for need
be it food drink or drug,
others just like the way it feels
to have a cock inside of them
that loveless embrace and meaningless fuck,
with some cash thrown on top
anything is good enough for them to cum."

She sips her coffee,
lights another cigarette
and as she looks down
cup in one hand resting on the table
bitting her pinky finger
then taking a big drag of smoke
and as she exhales she says

"But all of those women,
especially those who do it
for money or for drugs,
will have to fuck guys who are just dirty,
their cocks unwashed for days
with that white smegma shit on them
and who knows what else!
That rancid sweaty smell–
some stinking of garbage
others just violent assholes. You know,
the moment they close that door
those women are slaves to those men,
sex slaves. They've sold themselves
for twenty thousand pesos, their freedom
for one hour, they belong to them."

She takes another drag from her smoke,
her voice is shaky, her grip on the glass is tight.

"Those men are the kind of people
who'll do all sorts of perverted things,
especially to a young woman,
they like to see a pretty face wince in pain,
a pleasurable agony."

She looks towards the green mountains,
past the city skyline, past the busy and working city
as a serene air comes through the large windows

"I stopped doing that a long time ago,
sure I have my price, but it isn't some thing
just anyone can pay for. I gotta like you,
you've got to buy me dinner,
take me out dancing, show me
a good time around town.
Then, when we are back at your place,
then, and only after we've met MY
expectations, then you can ravage me,
or I you. Well, not you you, but
you know what I mean, don't you darling?"

She snuffs her cigarette.

This is the ebb of the tide of our love

I asked her if she was going to sell her body again
she said she didn't want to talk about it right then
so there was something to talk about
something to be aired

It wasn't hard to figure out,
she was making ends-meet when I met her
then once we hung out
she told me of all the evil things in her life

her boss who is always asking for head
because he said he needed to get off
it made him feel better, she said
his balls hurt, it was the clap

when I first noticed it
I showed her what was going on
she thought that always happened
that it was normal in all men

before I had gone to her work,
because she invited me to
every day she said I made her feel safe
for two whole months.

She was still working,
not making enough money
although the designs all went out
she made a measly dollar per

though when she staid on
without me there
doing her deed in the bathroom
she could pay
for her babys' food and then some

so she told me one day
it is over
that is that, I cannot have this with you
She got new clothes and make up

Her shoes were also new
everything about Her changed
Her demeanor towards me
there was another man

other men
the smell on her, the ebb
in her
unnatural

clap
slow
patient
rising out and through

and that fucker told her it was normal
for your dick to drip like that
and she believed him
bringing it into our bedroom

I loved her
with every ounce of my being
although with this betrayal
I could only learn to forget her

and these realizations were just the beginning...

And she's a Moon, Cosmic.

Thinking about her

seems redundant

for her own existence

is but a figment

of her own imagination.

She's lived a thousand lives

worn a million faces

with each mask falling

from her broken facade

to show the ruins left behind

from the drugs and selling herself

so that men may have their kicks

so that she may make the bills

to pay for the little one who waits

back home to get sick from her breath

covered in the cum of her clients,

Still she wonders why her family gets so sick,

why her child is always ill sleeping next to her at night,

why her parents always look at her

with eyes so empty–

because they know what she does

in the bathroom stall of the print shop

bending over to show how well she's studied

and done her kegels to please the men.

Her parents know

that she drugs unwilling parties

with the help of the dwarf

to make her wallet bigger,

but what she doesn't remember

is if the coffee he's brought her

was dosed with scopolamine or not

sometimes she's curious

why her pussy aches,

why her chest pounds,

why her neck is sore,

why her head hurts–

scopolamine, burundanga.

He rapes her

when he doesn't want to pay her

she's okay with it

she's fine

she's a good girl

when she's on her knees,

her aching knees,

when she's bent over the toilette

getting pounded from behind

by yet another

and another

and another and another

and another and

another

and

another

and another,

she's fine with it

it's what she's been taught

what she's been made to be

what the drugs have done

what the desperation led her to:

becoming a tool for the pleasure of others.

Her Eyes Shone Like An Accretion Disk

She speaks to me in code
with the way everything came back
the memories
of nights at that bar just talking,

chatting, asking to just imagine
how blessed one must be
to be able to teach someone
to make love again.

Then I didn't know
I was completely unaware of it,
I had never had that chance
and never thought I would get.

Until I met you
and we went into that room
where we took off most of our clothes
making love without kissing.

We talked afterwards
you looked at my tattoos
I looked at your lips
the gap in your thighs

We didn't get to exchange numbers
but I looked for you there
many times
many many times

and you probably saw me
but you didn't let me know

I wanted to love you
something inside me just
wanted to love you
all I really wanted

Time passed, washing away
what happened that night
putting it in the back of my head, memory
where I never suspected it would come back.

So we met that day
9 months later
and you pretended, as
I pretended

like it had never been.

We saw each other
not 15 hours later
to catch a movie
about gentlemen with umbrellas

I touched your hand
I held it in mine
and from that moment
You had me.

I didn't care where I'd met you
before, on the streets
all I could see was that beautiful being
there, inside your eyes.

Flickering screen turned into flickering dance floor
we moved, swinging to the music
and just as the place closed
I kissed your lips

Then just outside on 23rd I kissed you,
then on 17th and 6th
again on 15th and 6th
all the way to 12th and 6th

Until you came up to my place,
invited because I knew your friends,
we talked about this night
then we went to my bed

I touched your skin softly
making amends where I could
stitching together the gaps
in your corporal heart.

Tearing my own out
undoing years of slowly sowing
stitches together, I found you
but you unraveled into a lie

with the Cinnamon water
blessed by a priest
sprinkled inside the corners
offering to open up some truths

which just came pouring out
like a sickness slowly dripping
to the sound of meeting hands
painful globes and wretched stench

of the truth leaking out.
She said it was normal
to feel this way
I said it was a terrible way to live.

She said I'd taught her
how to make love again
feeling herself in the moment
not having to forget.

For that I am thankful
because that night
so many years ago
sitting at that bar in Coral Springs

Sour Girl and I had our chance meeting
without much do or say
we were dancing around each other
like stellar bodies nearing decay.

You spoke truths
words that echoed through time and space
did I not listen well enough?
Where were you from?

Live Long and Prosper.

On a rainy day, court is in business.

There in the court

with the massive Queen

which sits in the middle of the great hall

just spitting out words to the masses, orders

Our lovely maiden–anticipates
swords unsheathed all in a row, stiff

a queue of would be gentlemen await her

across the entrance of the great hall.

While their hands tightly grasp their swords

their lips whispering of her great deeds,

it rains as the Queen loudly drowns away

a soothing sound of water coming down.

If it doesn't rain, the land withers.

If it doesn't rain, the crops die.

If it doesn't rain, there is no dinner.

If it doesn't rain, babies starve.

So she saves the world

enchanting crowds with red lips

floats across the open court

on her nimbus cloud.

"No, sabe que? Todo bien." Ella dijo.

It is a brand new day!
Gracias por las lecciones
De nada por las lecciones
I loved every minute inside you

De tus ojos
Y aun asi
me hayas dejado
quemando por dentro,

Estoy feliz.
I am happy,
because it didn't feel right
towards the end there.

It became something of a joke,
My love for you.
Que Dios os bendiga a los pecadores
Ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte,

Amen!

Que sigamos resando
por perdones ajenos, queriendo
momentos prestados
nunca devueltos.

Cambio de papeles
Click Click Click Click
Alma capturada digitalmente
The Ghost In The Shell, it

Whispers sweet nothings
to an ear eager to please, just then
emotions become toys
la lengua en la oreja.

There is something to be ware of:
Te ame.
Verdaderamente lo hice,
pero eso fue, y no sera.

En el nombre del Padre,
del Hijo, y del Espiritu Santo.

Trying

I waited to throw out the cigarette butts with your lipstick on them. I just couldn't bring myself to before, but now it's no biggie. I guess it's my way of cutting it out of me.

Lunar Pirate

Eviceral

That moment when you feel something cold and distant in your bones, when the pit of your stomach falls to depths unknown, and all you can do is watch processions of emotions crawling their way down your throat.


Eviceral.

Captive Audience

Hanging on to the back of The Dragon, on with
plumes of smoke, floating resonance through the mountains
inlaid with the popular neighborhoods of the birth land.
Faces smile, bellies swell with booze
and echoing laughter resounds through the air.

Watching the iron birds fly in from behind a chained link fence,
in a country where terror is just a corner away
most times all we find is smiling faces
filling the air with freedom and grace.
No wonder they want to take it away.

People come back from captivity,
the nine to five grind of the "American Dream,"
back to a reality they'd lost with "American Idol"
infused with propaganda legally rectified sealed and processed,
to smell freedom in the air puffed just a few feet away.

In the words of a drunken genius clown
who levitated 6 machetes, 3 balls, and 4 pins
up in the air for the world to see,
right on 24 and 6th, in front of the coffee shop
where the green worm makes a left turn:

"Thing I love about all of you Pereiranos is that you're rebels.
You do things the way YOU'RE gonna do them."
So he took a swig from his alcohol just as he joined
a dispersing crowd who carefully ran away
from the falling machetes, balls, and pins.

Sunsets come up every night in conversation
as the day slowly wonders into night with twilight
close behind the two, it is never sure which way to go,
covered in golden twilight splendor
memories are recorded, stored, to be later remembered.

Floating along on the back of the dragon,
plumes of smoke behind and
there she sits with her one hand in her hair
as the other passes the spliff she rolled with Prometheus–
Eris just loves to be around good company.

Postcards To Hitler (part 3)

Can you imagine what it is to finally have your chat with your Devil
only to find that all it had in mind was to undress you—
ripping each and every article of clothing, tearing at your very flesh—
a frenzied attempt to subdue, to make a fool of you, with words
slicing at your very being, because that old demon knows what to say
to make your skin crawl. Another fine specimen is presented
all it has to do is breathe in a little deeper, and it is all gone to hell.

Naked With Sour Girl

When she used to grab my shoulders, digging her nails
into my skin at the rhythm of our fucking, it used to be
enough to almost make me explode inside her. Now it’s not
enough to just have her nail marks on my back, I want
her bite marks on my neck, I want bruises on my sides
from her thighs wrapping themselves hard around me
as I pound and choke her into ecstasy eternal, my balls
covered in our cum.

There was something about needles that always
perturbed me, something about the way they would
plunge into my veins and then made all that liquid
disappear. It just never seemed natural. Then
one day I had my first taste of an opiate, intravenously,
and my relationship with needles changed drastically.
I had never felt such exhilaration at the elation of that hard
steel needle, plunging through my being, penetrating me,
then releasing its payload into my vein. It still
makes me hard every time I think about Sour Girl, my heroin.

Now this old companion has grown, it has
made its way into the circles I keep and
without fail has taken the heads of
a few people I’ve escaped hell with. There is
something to be said about the ones who have cut off
their own strings and burnt their own bridges, but that
is another poem all together about floating corpses
in the milky waters of the river Alf.

Gin used to taste terrible, its strong flavor would
make the sides of my tongue burn, the place where
my jaw and skull met would ache, much the way Vodka
makes me feel today. Then it was distasteful, but today
it is what I usually like to order, and with a simple “Gin
and Tonic, please,” my youth slips down my throat.

Speedy drugs had never been something I wanted to try,
look at, or even get into. Time starts to change its flow as
one gets older though, the days get shorter, the change of the seasons
becomes more apparent and enunciated by the aching
muscles and bones. To keep up through the pain and fatigue,
now there will always be methamphetamine.

Sometimes it is easy to forget when I meet you,
sometimes I’m reminded after I pass you.
It is not so much that I’m afraid of you,
but of the experience I’ll be missing. I eat my drugs
and drink my gin, toasting to old friends I’ll never see again.

Untitled

Lyrics to a song I'm working on. It is untitled, I will try to post a video of it once I have it down. It might be a while.

For Now:

there are some places between spaces

you shouldn’t cross

there are some creatures in the darkness

who ride the lust

calico vision vestibulary

you wear that coat

cos a harsh winters’ a coming

and it brings a razor of teeth

its got that beard of yours in sight

and it’s gonna win

time for your void inside the news cycle

no time for tears

the drugs they feed you seem to make it better

and while we’re here

go on forget about the way she mattered

one sorted kiss

lost inside diatribes

kept away from light

stinking of pesticide

and it’s gonna kill

She said ­— way he keeps on knocking on his coffin

might make me sick

I wish he’d stop going on with that rattle

won’t let me sleep

there’s someone out there digging six foot holes

right in the shade

of a cherry blossom tree

green pastures, happy green hills

of happiness, I sigh

as she lowers me in

Idiot

I really don't understand why I allow myself to feel anything at all
each and every emotion drags me through the murky depths of my mind
with turns leading to parts of my id unknown, places that I should have left alone
though it seems like I always drag parts along the paths taken
or scooping up pieces of reality to keep safely with me.

Tasting Through Burning

Future people have no idea what it was like

that compassion runs dry, tears fall onto dunes

spanning over the horizon, just where the sun lays

after we shot it down, while screaming enough is enough.

"We'd gone to have a piece of its burning flesh

eat it up and drink its blood, become one and like a phoenix

burn."

On a dream from a chance meeting

Had one with you in it. First off, I was at a hotel, expensive hotel, where my bag was stolen from the Sauna (?). When I was leaving, I noticed all of these people with weird things growing on them, so I headed straight for my bedroom to shower. The grand hall was enormous, mostly made of glass and crystal, women walked around in what appeared to be see through night gowns, but their faces... twisted and wretched. Lots of jewelry, and pretty things. This place was crowded. By the time I made it to my room, there were people there. It was strange, I only knew about half of them. I started to go into the shower when you walked in.

This got a little weird, because when you and I talked here, I wasn't in the hotel anymore, but riding on a car/bike. Something motorized. I was trying to get a hold of you to tell you about the party, but you were just screaming in my ear. I couldn't understand what you were saying. As this was going on, my bike headed towards a path full of hills and steep inclines, I had to hang up both of my phones in order to drive. Somehow I'm on the couch of the room again, and you are just wobbling around. Yes, wobbling, you were quite drunk. You kept saying how you were leaving, and that this shit was lame, that you had to see him. So I went to walk you out. The door led straight to the parking lot this time, and not the main hall. I was trying to talk to you, but you wouldn't listen, you'd just walk away faster every time I caught up.

Eventually you started to run, and I couldn't keep up at all. My knee, my weight... it all seemed to add up. Your drunk ass just kept running until someone in an orange Murcielago pulled you over. It was UN police. He asked for our ID, and all he had to do was just scan our fingers. This gave him all the info he needed. When he found out you were UN he relaxed, and commented on my tatts. I told him about them, and asked if he had any. At this point, he started to remove the hat he had on, and his head expanded greatly. First there was a butterfly and then a butterfly with glow sticks. Both lined up in the middle of his forehead like glowing antennae, which was now HUGE.

I wake up in my bedroom, you are nowhere to be seen, but I do have a piece of paper with the number of the room they gave you. 9005 or something. I try to get to your room cos we still haven't talked, but entering the elevator from the main hall, I fall into a movie (?) having to do with this disk looking thing that travels over and under water freely. It can do anything. So we head out and are following this rogue ship, but i don't want to follow no ship! We go underwater, and I can't breathe. Everything is just coming too fast while all I want to do is find you, and I can't keep the water from seeping up my nose into my lungs. I let go of the vehicle. I start to swim like a dolphin, towards this set of staircases that are going upwards. There is a light, I am drowning. I head towards it. It's a crystal door, heading into a hall. You are there, in crutches. One of your feet has been hurt. I'm trying to go as fast as I can, I don't want to miss talking to you. I swim as fast as I can, I attempt to scream, heading towards the light... And just as I'm about to reach the door to smash it and talk to you

I wake up.