Cyanide Butterfly

There are no life or heart lines to

Depend upon, the depressions in

Your palms have been unsewn by

The repetitious curling of your fists.

If my love, fragile as a coal miner’s

Canary, were to fall into your hands

I’d find no meaning only stygian descent


Ours is just a terminal regret

I am just a misguided reject

You are just a sick twisted mindfuck

We are just masks full of defects


From your mouth only that which

Is most hated and most feared

A bladed dusk, culling caricature.

In shadow, I have never seen

Your face only the waxen

Silhouette of an immaculate

Deception. We will not compare

Scars, yours are worse of course,

It’s understandable given


Ours is just a terminal regret

I am just a misguided reject

You are just a sick twisted mindfuck

We are just masks full of defects


I was always the ignorant solider fighting

For a cause you never believed in.

Piss-soaked on a bathroom floor staring

Down a porcelain obituary it never occurred

To you that I deserved more and to me it seemed

A testimony. I would walk on diamonds, just designate

Me the chosen one, just designate me anyone at all


Marrow-bated I always sought the depth

In your cellularizing philosophies, but

I could never make myself shallow enough

To be fit into your paper doll nation


Ours is just a terminal regret

I am just a misguided reject

You are just a sick twisted mindfuck

We are just masks full of defects


I find you slipping like a heroin primed syringe

Into my filthy veins, as sluggish as the coins inside

A dog’s intestines. I never got high enough to justify

The lows and you were never close enough to justify

My love, we were never beautiful but may be honesty

Would have rendered us so but now we will never know…


(Listening to Moist which means I get carried away with the long discordant song poems. Moist has unbelievable lyrics and of course they have flow unlike me lol I was listening to a lot of different song so this one doesn’t mean anything specifically to what I have written just sharing)





Mine is a lightening

That never touches

The earth but ricochets

Between adjacent synapses

Between those nebulous

Aspirations that remain

Inexplicably ill-defined


Mine is a thunder that

Displaces the marrow

And assumes the

Resolve of bone, my

Ambitions are the

Architecture which

Govern my life and

Define my being


I am neither a sheep nor

A hunter. I exist in a state

Of chronic ambivalence

Through inertia I have

Fashioned of myself a

Sizable burden, I belong

To no one and yet everyone

Must shift to accommodate

Even as I sit here drawing

Breath, at your expense, I

Do not live as you can attest


I am the wolf, neither prey

Nor survivor but the scion

Under which all others

Must fall. I exist in a state

Of chronic acquisition

Which is to say that I do

Not stand here by virtue

Of mercy but through the

Violence of my means

If you should break

Under coercion of what

Consequence is it to me?


I am neither actor nor

Director, but a spectator

Whose undependable eyes

Rarely glean moral or intent

Your words are but paper birds

Unsticthed by the despair of

Tears that without provocation

Fall. My body knows only the

Convulsions of a precipitous

Regret, it is only to the grave

That I endeavor, I have no

Purpose, I am the Bleak Cabal


I am the paramount, whose

Undependable love has no

Aesthete beyond practicality

Your heart is but a glass menagerie

A trifle, that I have no desire to view

My needs supersede your whims.

I care not of what you desire, if

Not through the employment of your

Hands, then of what use could you

Possibly be to me? I will offer

No charity to the disposable. I am

The purpose, I am the Sign of One


Submission for if I am not to late again lol

Dverse Poets Pub

Blog Challenge 13 Earliest Memory


My earliest memory is not so much a memory but a reoccurring dream I had when I was a very small child. My mom bought me a potbellied pig as a pet. One day while we are all riding in the car my mom stops at the post office to check the mail. She takes the pig’s leash and leads him through the glass doors telling me that I must wait in the car. When she returns there is no sign of the pig not even his leash. I ask her what happened and she turns to me very casually and says “I ate him…” At this point I run screaming from the car into the post office hoping she’s lied, her following behind me. When I don’t see him in the front and find no personnel (or anyone else) I head for the back. While the front of the house is brand new, well-maintained the back of the house is positively ancient and in terrible condition, it doesn’t even look like a post office but like a residence. There’s a bloody and torn cot and a huge rusted washing basin. At this point I look down and realize I am covered in black spots like some kind of pollution spreading rapidly over my skin. I crawl into the wash basin even though its filled with mucky water and start scrubbing frantically. My mom comes in and sits on the cot and I ask her to take a look at the spots. She inspects them and says “Your soul is leaking…you’ll be empty soon…” She then returns to the cot for a nap, I remember she was really nonchalant about it despite my intense fear. I know after my bath I went deeper into the building (which seemed enormous but very narrow and winding) and that my mom was greasy and sucking on pig bones as she walked behind me. I can’t remember anything else other than the spots were spreading rapidly over my flesh. I had this dream when I was like 3 or 4 and many times after. I have never owned a potbellied pig before and my mom, you will be happy to know, has never eaten a pet!