I breathe the perfume of fresh, young, moist decay as you, delicious dark angel, dance like velvet desire and I cannot resist. Your seething, soothing succulent voice captivates the passion quivering in my soul. When I hear those belated, belligerent, boastful words role off your venomous tongue they strike a common pitch and resonate deep inside me. And as your weary, waking, wonderful poison needle frees me I pierce the cold night sky with a broken smile to celebrate my eternity in the brilliant universe.

i had the gun to my head, i had my finger on the trigger, i almost pulled the trigger, i almost pulled the trigger there were markings on the wall people had come and passed along messages that would never be understood. sand blasted by time each one pounded their nail into the cross, became ageless and profound in every way. sunspots and this delerium, i call life by it's first name, mysterious, i feel it slip away to creep through unseen, unheard. communication between the living and the dead is inevitable, it was just a matter of time and circumstance, we lit candles for them, they screamed out our names in the middle of the night, in the middle of the day, trying to bring us back to their arms, diminished and longing for the warmth of love and understanding. you may have been walking along, through a green field or a forest, a city street or hallway, but the silence was broken by a voice from the past. you tried to call back, but you realized that it was too late and as the day drew to a close, you wept and remembered that the only thing left to do is mourn.

spinning, spinning in a sea of weeds, flowers, a field of opportunity. The sun warm on my back, the breeze cool on my lips. I embrace this existence for the beauty it sustains by itself. The ground rises to meet me as I partake in the indefatigable essence of being and feeling. I feel my heart pumping, blood pulsating through my veins like the inconstant tide beating upon the shore. Is this reality? Or just my dream? Is there a difference? Does it matter? It's all the same...

in a round house where everyone was equal some one died a horrible death. there were several mothers and several sons. the fathers left years ago to pursue a destiny that did call their name. the house was brown, made of wood, and stood beneath a stretch of sky. the first impression of this house and the poeple in it is quaint, normal and safe. the mothers loved and tried so hard to make everything well. the sons did their best to return the love. after the fathers left and the whole was dug, the youngest son withdrew from the dinner tables and daily conversations. for a while the wall was broken and he smiled again, the mothers were content and the other sons were not so lonely. but it wasn't long before he withdrew again and his presence was somber. the family would fret and wonder why and the son seldom would reply. one morning the house and it's close proximities, were slightly disturbed by terrible, loud screams. the brothers awoke to find one of their own hanging by his neck, hanging by a belt. soon the mothers filed into the room, as the other boys stood transfixed, they took his body down, held it close and greived. in the midst of the chaos, they realized that he had carved something into the wood-paneled wall "it would've been good to live a singular life"

I have come to the disturbing realization that the moon is talking to me. When I look out the window I understand...why I am not alone. Thank you my friend, my only loyal friend who wants to be by himself just once a month. "melissa why are you so sad" What are you talking about, my friend? do you want to know the secret of time? Of course not, please stop... but I know you, you've always admired me from there. I know, but I don't know. of course I must conceed that we are lovers. Yes, we are, aren't we? But please go away never Stop talking to me I hate you no you don't why won't you let me help you You can't help, why am I talking to myself? you're not, you're talking to me Oh yeah, I forgot. I have to go, please return my sanity to the following address:

running in circles trying to break the chain again, trying to break myself and everything around me, running in circles, trying to draw the blood trying to draw enough keep the hurt from diminishing, constant and permanent, I can't take this anymore I want to destroy all of this I don't want any of this anymore I never asked for it but it came upon me with such vengence, enough power to suck me in, down, consumed, I'm drowning, my arms flail and I exhaust all of the muscles in my burning, ripping, I want to tear myself to peices I have to stop running in circles i'm getting nowhere

sometimes when I sit alone in my room I wonder what I could be doing if I weren't quivering in the dark corner all by myself. I know the lights are on but I can't feel them because my eyes are clenched shut. I fear if the light touches my eyes I might realize the unspeakable, I might realize the terrifying truth that I am no more than a breathing entity in a universe existing all by itself. The world seems so far away as I slip into an alternate consciousness of narcissism and self-reflection. Deep and dark is this desolate state of mind which so consumes me. The world goes on around me and I care not. All that matters is the cold hard floor beneathe me and the slight draft coming from some unknown source...

I fly, a grievous angel through the night, with some notion of guilt and displacement. In the midst of celestial greatness I scan the planets below, for these tangible things called pain and pleasure, that I'll never know (I have a slight recollection of such a things). I want to forfeit this strange existence for something I can truly understand. I'm not quite sure how I got here. I find myself in the past, present and future all at the same time. Among an innumerable number of earthly and unearthly planes overlapping. I see the others in the distance, they too have wings. Sometimes I can hear their thoughts, once in a while our melodic woes are in tune. A sad song elevating and expanding through the universe. Other times we are overcome with a joy only known to us. It's a truth of sorts. Saving these poor souls, or watching them rise from the depths of temptation, despair, all the possible plagues of mind and humanity. When their elevation is complete, we become whole again (as if we were empty?). Who is to know. Although afforded this dreamish thing, we in the heavens (unbeknownst to us) have foregone- at some point a sense of physicality we possessed, at some point a sense of physicality we lost. While we soar above, they swoon below. I cannot help but know. There is no such thing as nothing. In the apparent omnipotence of divinity, there is a longing for a return to mortality. We are not the same as before, we have vague notions of these things only. But, these vague notions breed nagging questions that lack immediate answers, enough to upset the balance, the supposed perfection, this can take an angel out of flight. I fancy these things in my waking dreams. I never sleep. I fancy these things through time and space. Even though it's not my place. All angels quiver in flight, when their harmony is broken by the sorrow they could not escape in life.

as I walked into the serene garden of lonliness that reaked of fresh indulgence, I realized I couldn't turn back. The cold wet yearning that dripped off my being seemed to puddle on the floor and transform into a mist that pulled me down. Even through all of this, the strong tug of emptiness from the dark space in front of me beckoned for a contribution of my nothingness...

it wasn't until I realized that the flesh of innocence was flavored with lust and remorse that I decided to withdraw my dripping fangs. and when the sky tides above started to shift and receed from the shores of time, I knew all of this was over and the darkness of some misfortunate circumstance was soon to overshadow the light of my devotion when the sun rises I am no more and no less but I am not the same

When I walked through the forest of red and orange bismal headphones, the stench of soaked cellulite closet space filled the purple air and I thought to myself, why hadn't I stayed with the ocean-clad homestyle entry rug to which I am bequeithed. I still to this day assume that all the sherbert clock flavored wax drippings from above were there for a legitimate reason. Anyways, I should let you go back to all your self-proclaimed cassette gazelle eating paint madness.