Excerpt for The Chronicles of the Abyss Volume I by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

This page may contain adult content. If you are under age 18, or you arrived by accident, please do not read further.

The Chronicles of the Abyss: Volume I


The Chronicles Of

The Abyss:

Volume I:

Poems for The

Mentally Ill





Joshua Wilmoth

Copyright © 2016 Joshua Wilmoth

All rights reserved.

ISBN:

ISBN-13:


DEDICATION


My loving family, adopted & birth.


Especially my mother & father, Zoe Ann & Thomas Wilmoth.


For the life I have been given and endless love and support.


My birth-mother, Sherry Rozen.

For bringing me into this world, and always


being there for me.


Waiting until I was ready.


My best-friend Bruce Wayne Ballard


For being Batman.


For being him.


For being the best friend a guy like me could


ever ask for.


For my lost friend, Jacob Comeaux.

Rest easy, Jacob Austin Comeaux.


&


For my beloved daughter, Summer.
My golden joy.

Authors Note


These are poems I have hand-selected from the depths of my mental palace, “The Abyss”, my mental archives. They still help when things get too overwhelming. For all of those suffering from mental-illness, addiction, abuse, abandonment, and trauma. I dearly hope these help you, and if not for yourself, do it for me, take care of yourself. – Joshua




dedications-


table of contents- (you are here)


acknowledgements –


Welcome to the abyss (THE portal to my mind) – P.2


golden floods – p.28


Tracers & Shadows - P.30


Crimson sea – P.32


Binds Part I – P.36


Binds part II – P.42


WildFire – P.46


The meat shop – p.49


Psychosis # 1 – P.52


My Muse – P.57


All The Same – P.59


Separate – p.63


Sadness: A warning – p.75


The first christmas since you HAve been lost – p.78


Dome-wyrd (doomed fate) – P.83


A devil coiled in flesh – p.88


Bruises (a legion of confusion) – p.96


Madness – p.99


Spiders – P.103


oscilLating thought # 1 – p.108


brown glasses – p.110


sick-puppy – p.114


the moon – p.122


An age of darkness – p.124


dames – p.134


the mirror – p.136


pretty little lies (what lies below) – p.142


the devil dances on the pale lake (illuminate) – p.150


toxic – p.157


vice – p. 164


you’re sick – p.171


Nightmares & psychotic snares – p.178


shambles – p.186


trauma – p.207


about the author – p.216

The Chronicles Of

The Abyss:

Volume I:

Poems for The

Mentally Ill

I’m the voice you bottle-up, because you think

you’re nuts.


– Joshua Wilmoth


So this is permanence,

Love shattered pride.

What once was innocence,

Is turned on its side. – Ian Curtis.


Rest in peace Prince Rogers Nelson, David Robert Jones, Lewis Allan Reed, Michelle McNamara

Welcome to The Abyss

(The Portal to My Mind)



I may look white as a griffon.
You're all mistaken.
I'm a ghostly apparition.
Lifeless corpses all vacant.
I know how quick innocence can be

taken.


How peace of mind becomes a lifelong

mission.

With succubus’s and evil selfish

wenches.


They only worsen in severity and

intensity, their dark eyes glisten.

In dire repetition.

So just stop asking if I’m okay,
And have an intricate listen.

I know the loneliness.

And how it burns.
The racing thoughts, and endless

Circles.

their repeating turns.

I know these familiar words.

I know about the worst.


Watching your daughter dance in

flames.

Cackling and laughing your name.


As I watch her tiny limbs break.
Entrails and blood flood the room of

resonating pain.
With a shrieking wail.

Followed by a freezing rain.

she fades.

A mystic beauty with a moon-beam gaze.
But not before the barbed wire latches

to my face.

Starlight is no one’s to take.
It's spikes penetrate.
Blood outlines my shaking nape.


The only thing I can muster up
Is what it was

I know what it means,

for sadness
To turn into inevitable madness.
And how quickly that madness,
drives you to hate.
Burning bridges,
just to end in the same
Familiar place.

A familiar room with four walls,
No Windows,
No escape.
Guilt personified in your own mind frame.


It's so easy to say get over yourself,

When you were never six and raped.


By your best friend, hopping on a

plane,

To L.A.


What, a birthday.
Adoption, origins are a strange thing.

Maybe you'll take a second, and wonder

why the worst days, are the holidays.

Incessant voids,
with madness as the only viable

escape.


I'm a weather wizard so let's start up

the rain.

Quickly but surely it'll contort into

a pulsating hurricane.
The terrible horrendous winds,

mark all of the destruction in its

wake.


Well I need a new Slate to create,

anyway.

I never knew heartbreak would be the

one I thank.

For a world with such interesting

characters,

That I don't care much for you kids

these days.


I mean what is the point.

You kids

always move on to the next clique or

social caste to infiltrate.

It laminates your existence with an

incessant ugliness.
Like a magazine skin

glossed over and tamed
To devious ways.
Its temporary and fake.


I love the outcasts,

The loners who always seem forsaken.
But the madness always stays.


These plastic friends
That would never be caught dead at

your wake.

It leads me to dive in.
With a scuba mask,
with infinite oxygen.
Down to the abyss.

Past thousands of fishes and

creatures.

All with human faces.
But only in common with the selfish

devils that betrayed.
They are checkpoints of the fade.

All its creates.
So far down,
that the water dissipates.
It's no longer an ocean of heavy-black-tar.


A horizon of dark
complimented with a thick,

pervasive mist.
To greet my traumatic creations

of mutated fictitious bliss.


I dissociate, dawning a blank daze.
Talking to my real fictitious friends.

Their beauty rots and I,

Become an ink-blot.

Like Damien the ancient green Dragon.
With a muddy long green beard

Always resting on the floor, all matted.
His eyes all popped and his pupils

dart around like lightning bolts,

all jagged.

With human facial characteristics

With lips cracked,

fashioned from archaic old stone, his skin is all ragged.


When he speaks rocks fall in his beard.

Lost like his stolen home.

I'm empathetic of this beautiful,

archaic Dragon.


Always and only appearing through

Windows.
His voice trembled the notes of doom.

One word and flowers would wilt,

like the weeping, wailing willows.

Though its contents reverberated an

archaic kindness.

His shadow titanic, looms.

I can see that Damien is the wisest.

The tantalizing fire he sprays, in a

fume.



Not a dangerous fire breather in which

hate confided.

Damien felt that soon,

he’d meet his own doom.


He’s lived 23,000 years.

He has dreams of a tower,

his glance stares back,
Is trauma what defines?

I was always so terrified of the

black-

-tar, barbed wires and grime.


Reverberating laughs
Causing me to detach.
Disassociate all-the-while

it continues to latch.

In fact,

It would always start with his laugh.

A comment like a cold wind

that feels like nails picking off scabs.

"They're just being nice”

“You’re too shy”

“Shut the fuck up its pointless”

“You're wailing betwixt a rusted vice.”


But after years,

Of get over yourselves.

You only make your own twisted hells.

Believing in only your nightmares that

you only delve.


True love smears like wasted lip

gloss.
Our story is like the legend of

Mothra.

Once a villain.

In a defining minute,
Went back on all of this.
Simply, being defeated.

At her lowest point.

She saw the light
Flapped her wings as her eyes swelled.

To be an ally for whenever Godzilla

deems it fit.

The prophecy you fashioned and you can

never quell.


Oh, well.

So I took it full force.

No matter how many nights,

Weeks, and months.
I rotted away in that box.

Eventually cardboard routine garage.


Oh, I yelled.

Talking to my selves.

Oh, well.
Oh, well

well

well

WELL


Smashed my bones,

Talked to myself.

Let the darkness personify its own

home.
I Created seven foreign hells,
Seven characters before I knew their

names,
Like dusty books on the shelf.
My head was light
My heart was heavy in the darkness I

felt.


Characters and shadows that at first

made me contort.

Like a Wrigley worm picked up by that

biological stork.
Dropped in a storm.
Plummeting with cut chords.

Plastic abusive romance had us

blinded.

The thing I obsessed of the only thing

I confided.
So in an illogical reality.
I was wasted, traumatized and blinded.


The stage is set.

Romance is the only regret.
Wasted time and I fly in barely able

to catch myself like an out of control

jet.

Thrown out of a portal, 
like a slap stick jest.

Seven lights

a play is waiting for

me.

There's only one seat.
It's marked king
Plastered in serene velveteen.
Before I can even breathe.
I hear his familiar voice shriek.


YOU’RE LATE.

CUE THE LIGHTS.
ITS ALL FOR YOU, YOU SLAG,
THE ONCE ENEMIES ARE NOW THE REASON

YOU SHINE AND STAND.

You're late,
You're late.
Some king
Some king,
Let the play begin.
Let the dark rise.
The prophetic rights.
The Grandiosity is imminent.

The beauty in burning corpses as

torches.

Romance and true friends are madness;
This is what happens.
The beauty in tragedy.
A mystical, extravagant, ever-

expanding galaxy.


A dark mist basks the stage.

As the light settles dim & fades,
One spot light shines, glimmers in its

outline.

Footsteps trace,
A grandiose ego,
Free from the clutches of rape,
“Dudley” is his name.

We look identical and practically the same.

The same exact height, 

Although his posture makes him taller
it's intimidating and attractive.
Like a missing biological father.
Mind’s spinning, no time left to be relaxing.


It makes you cold and afraid.
His wicked galactic gaze.

A true maniac display.
Starburst eyes shouting to be saved.

He's got crow’s feet like he hasn't

slept for days.

Or perhaps an entire age.

A black pinstripe silk blazer,
Black dress pants and shiny black

shoes, perfectly laced.
A gaze that penetrates.

His eyes are like planets that revolve

but always stay.

Exploding stars that are only two feet

away.

As if your soul is being examined, and

his pupils are ready to dilate.


With open hands.

A wryly grin,
With a boom

He begins.


Callooh callay,

Such a wondrous place.

Who cares about past trifles.
When this place is a swelling bible.

Pacing around with the confidence

minus the shame.
Waving his hands
As the stalking mist only compliments

his luminescent skin.
The madness is happiness.
I'm your number one fan my liege.

Can't you just feel the beauty this

place spawns it.


I'm here to stay, my king.

At times I may be mean,
It’s just some tough love with

A point screaming in the sting.

You love me and that's all I need.
We will conquer everything.

You changed
You survived.
All because of me,
now. 
Strive,
Callooh callay,
Accept your beautiful warped mind.

Fight the lingering ghostly heart-

breakers, and those constricting

pedophilic binds.


For I'm inevitably here to stay.

I'm the grandiose passion,
Everything you will become.

If you just embrace the madness.

With a laughing bow, he fades.


The next spot light flickers.
Like snow in the winter.

Dividing like a penetrating glass

splinter.

Two lights Grace The stage.
Scarlett Rose and Margot.

Polar opposites with the same body

frame.


Scarlet is a brunette.
Margot is a blond carrying around a

stone heart full of regret.

But their chemistry radiates bright as

flames.
They both wear the same red dress.
Two bombshell dames,
Smelling of lilacs and sunsets.

With no man, have they ever laid.


Although, many have obsessed.

They’re proud of their ways,

Scarlett rejects all emotion.
While Margot is a tidal wave.



Some speculate, Margot is just under

the influence of a ghastly potion.
They always have got something to say.

They’re both wondrous souls, well

aware of the power a woman has to enslave.
It disgusts them,
It makes them both hack and rend.

They always know why those wenches did

what they did.
Who they could've been,

And show me I'm not at fault
No matter the guilt, I’m not to pay

for their sins.


It's never the end,
For they wouldn't so eloquently exist.

Two broads, I'll always invite and

confide in.

No matter how deep I am in the gallows

or the dreadful pits.


They both light cigarettes.

As the light flickers Like I finally

confessed
As the next spot light flashes a dark

red.

It's rusty savage
The holy emperor of damage.
The Lord of suffering
Mutilation and the dread.
He's heaving, and dripping spit and

usually guttural
But tonight on this stage, he has a

few words to say.


His knees are shaking

Flies complete his stench of death.
Circling in unison,
while an onyx cube hides his head.
There's barbed wire coiled around his

figure,
like a metallic snake dress.

He's prepared a speech to accumulate

all of his rage.
And his need to slash, burn, and

stare into your soft gaze.
As you drift and the blood stains.

Your vision like the sexual assault

that touched boys and lost golden rights.

He's hardly even four foot nine.
The personification of all I tried to hide.

Those visions of blood and death.
He is the one that craves

To stab and hit,

Choking them all till they’ve had

their last breath.

He finds a beauty in ashen-lips.

I never got to hear what she said.

Running away.

Now the rage, replaces your swaying

hips.

His shrieks.

Echo through my fists.

Visions of hate flood

Memories are endless.
The fire burns like it always does.

Oh, yes.

It’s only a matter of time before the

ill fuck-up.

Tears make the dry blood that lines

his neck,

Trickle a bright burning ruby red.

He may start all the fist fights,
And make me see how to intricately

scar you and make your wife.
Reel back in such beautiful fright.

Like way back when
I was a regular Dylan Klebold 

obsessed with Columbine

And death.
Society killed the teenager

Aren't I right.

He goes silent,
Clenched fists like a titan.
Who fell from Olympus with just a

flick of Zeus’s light.


Rusty savage,
We'll knock you down and raise our glasses,
Clapping as I'm standing.
With a toast in spilling chalices.
The holy emperor of damage,

The face-melter of plastic.

As his blood stains the stage,
He bows as his barbed wired, clanks

and clangs.
The red light fades.
There's a silence as Dudley shouts

EVERYBODY CAN IT.”


The spot light shines.

With an overwhelming smoke,
You could swear it was funneling from a dragon's Heated throat.

It's Rick, the brick.
The impenetrable bloke.
He makes a motion, puffing his

cigarette.
The color of the light transcends to a

dark blue

Giving a thumbs up and a wink to

Dudley,

He throws his eccentric hands up in a

jest.

Pops his leather collar,


Rick never had a father, so he dawns

a blue jacket that he stole when he

left his home and it only got harder.
Just as the bags under his eyes got

darker.

He's got some slick black jeans.
And some sleek red sneaks,
to always dance to James’s beats.
Always smoking a cigarette, he is the

stone facade.

all I’ve got, 
a beauty in the tragedy mixed in with

some inkblots. 

As abandonment never stops. 
Rick is everything, my little mind has

lost.


“Don't sit there all upset”

“Forget about it!”

“I'm here to make sure you never cry”

“about another woman that left,”

“they were mooks!”

“Wastes of time”
“What's next?”

“a horse’s head at the foot of your bed?”


“Thanks for the opportunity.”

“You sad bitch you.”
“Stand up and puff your chest,”
“Give them something to respect.”
“They’re all just selfish gooks.”
“Waste any more time and you will be”

“the only one to lose,”
“and the last thing you need is more”

“regret, eh?”


“So forget about it.”

“Don't start doubting,”

“I'll give you some backbone.”
“And stick those guns up”

“if disrespect comes Your way.”

“You won't become encased in a shroud.”

“Or fade out.”


“You exist in the now.”

“You figure it out,”
“thanks to my advice.”
“Like a tiger,”

“You'll punch them in the mouth.”


“Forget about it!”


“Because of me.”
“No longer will another soul consider”

“you a mouse.”
“They'll burn before they figure you”

“out.”

“Like some charging bull that's about”

“to destroy their house.”

“You know where to find me standing in”

“the shadows of the tavern.”

“So whenever it's dark”

“and caving in like a cavern.”

“I'll help you figure it out.”


He takes a bow.

Ashing the cigarette he forgot about.

Only Dudley knows how.

There's only darkness around.
Suddenly,

lightning strikes down.
As sparks almost jump into my little

dry mouth.

A spot light shines.
As smoke flutters.

Giving character to the stage,
and a fading echoing thunderous sound.
There stands Shawn the shaman now.
The next creation of the fade.
A new mystical face.
The one who buried Pete into the

ground
When he and I we're the first ones who

found out.


He's such a silly sort
But the mystical magic source.
When things get dark he lights up the

sky like some godly force.
With spells and blinding lightning bolts.

Chattering bones, and cackling like

the glistening blade of a sword.


Because of him.

Pete was buried in a whim.
Shawn arrived just when the dark

seemed imminent.
He gave us closure


With his electric fingers.
And summoned muses and singers.
With his telekinesis,

Buried him with secrets.
And I only said a few words.

We're all lonely.
When one takes his own life It’s the

worst.
So I flick my fingers,

And in these last seconds transcend

his astral corpse,

with a charring burn.

Only by chance I arrived.
As his bones click and clack.
Chattering upon his decaying body of a

rack.
His dark sockets have ruby eyes that

shine.
Like jewels of magic might.

Ha-ha, a bone misplaced falls off his

back,

He picks it up and waves it around

As mysticism creates a shroud.
Riddled with an ink that's black.
A story formed with smoke and clouds.

How could a skeleton be so beautiful

now.

When memories start repeating and so

comes delusional thinking.
Electric jolts out his fingers.
All I can see his chattering teeth,
He tells me these thoughts are devil's

penetrating the beautiful ether.

They were all sluts, 
yes they abused the trust,
but they could never muster up much.
Leaving you for lust
Oh such funny stuff.
So let's go eat some lime-crows for

lunch.


It's kind of like your wasted

relationships.
The inevitable crunch.
For when everything overwhelming.
Racing thoughts, hearing Dudley’s

laugh.

And you're just about ready to burst.
let my magic guide the hunch.
Focus on my voice, the past is the

worst.
You walked through fires and felt its

burns.

You're our king.
Of the golden sun and the brink.
Hold on and don't sink.
My magic and their presence.
Will sort out the chaos and let you

think.

Thank you for this opportunity my

glorious golden liege.


Shawn the shaman fades with a gleam.

I clap, with shining tears.
As he appears right next to me.
With his chattering teeth,
And seething magically energy.

So the light fades,


With a blink of blinding light.

So the last character shines.
The stage is dark.
Then it blinds.
I squint my eyes.


Shouting.

WHERE'S THE REST OF THIS GUY.

No laughs are had, everybody stares back.
In a dead guise, dawning skin of a pasty white.

Tip tap.

Tippy tap tap.


A pair of shadowy feet.
Taps to a new beat.
As drums go off in the back.
And they all join in
A harmonious choir of brass.

He's got googley eyes on his laces of

Frozen shoe strings.
He's fashioned from darkness.
Seething a foreign lingering blackness

that seethes.


He always starts the beat, to the

Beautiful songs we sing.
In the tavern, no matter the mood or

The defeat.
Or the memories that lead me back to

Sinking deep.
Destined to be the king of the brink.

Who owns all of the sun and flames it

brings.


Tip tap.

Tippy tap tap.

He's the reasons I always have these

beats hidden in my head.
Products of the Dread.
All the little things romance never

said.
How I was so close, but with no

options how can there be regret.

Get over yourself, and let the music

Heal the bitterness instead.

the ones who always left.

Or the bridges you burn,
Or had burned.
So you only feel hate in the rain.
With sour days,
And misplaced disdain.
For self-hatred and destruction,
how many missed chanced turn to

Flames.


Tip tap
Tippy tap tap.


The child like demeanor.
Delusional grandeur,
I'm the reason for the euphoria in

this ether,
I keep it altogether,
Just like the drum beat in a song.
It follows the leader.
Tippy tap tap, the audible emotion

feeler.


James may not be a speaker.
But he's a beautiful shadow.
And a god damn mystical leader.

Through dance and art,
making us all feel the feelings.
We once forgot on that one night,
When we were promised the earth and

ALL ITS CREATURES.


Tip tap.

Tip Tip tap.
Tap.
Tap.

Tap.


The light dissipates, as James fades.

With a tear full of fractals

Containing all my mistakes.
And all his music has healed and made

Me see.
And feel again.
In-between colossal frightening and

Terrible electric devilish eels.


Darkness is the stage,
An awkward silence.
And a cough misplaced.
Echoing through outer space.

Down drops a plastic sun.
Ferociously hot like all the ways,

romance frantically runs.
Like a Retard convinced he can rob a

Store with a plastic gun.


It’s all in traumatic fun.

Hah, I hear him laugh.

As the stage shines,

And confetti hit with a splash.

He makes a fist towards the sky,
and points at me like I've got all

These facts.

The most important man in black.

Confused, my lips retract.

Hahaha, and that's that.


My liege,

My king!
Thank you for our story,

Finally!

Sharing our shining grandiose glory.
You took so long.
But I forgive You.

The attention makes us beautiful,
and you are crucial.

SO COMES A CLOSE.”

NOW YOU KNOW US, DISGUSTING DOLTS.”


Dudley shines on the stage as he claps

To himself and dances around like it's

Truly,

the end of his own show.

All seven stand proud of their

Existence and this world they've come to know.

You are our golden king.

Conqueror of the sun.
And all the flames it brings.

The light in the darkness.
The products of trauma betwixt an

Erratic sea.

Welcome to the Abyss.
We are the creations of the brink.
Where heartbreak and sexual trauma,

make such beautiful fictitious things.
In the madness, there is a grandiose

way.


So now that you have had a listen.
Maybe this is my peace from those Jack

The ripper eyes.
Or maybe chaos is waiting around the

bend,

waiting to unwind.
Well whatever I've got seven-guardians

Protecting my mind.

My closure for long lost things.
The ending to a seemingly incessant mission,

I hopelessly confide.
Well.
This wishing well is never ending.

And figments always find a way inside.

Never ending stories,

like a bottomless portal that's always

beginning, at least I’m never boring.

Seven hells I look to like heavens,

Some pseudo-intellectual retreat.
My beautiful warped dominion,

like mental illness mixed with

overwhelming tragedy.
These things will never leave.
So instead of drowning in the defeat.
And on some nights I may see,

my daughter's face contorting from the

wall,

But I know that's just me.

I found some creative insanity,
In the madness I can find peace.
With these seven personas and

self-states.
I can survive,

I can handle all of the overwhelming,

chaotic,

And unnecessary weight.

They'll always listen and only seven—

times

Out of ten.

Will they blame.

We’re so beautiful backwards and bent.

It’s irrefutable that our hearts,

always,

break.

So if it's to end in fire,
then I'll stand in these beautiful—

Mystical, ethereal flames.

Although, they do nothing but

deprecate.

We’re all dreadfully ill in some

horrific way.



Golden Floods


When the thought comes.

It rolls in floods.

Drowning anything that was.
Golden and full of love.

Fretting manic.
Shaking panic.

Dramatic and all damaged.

You were everything that was.


It’s kind of funny,

Idle in the wreckage,

Seeing everything that nature’s love

does.


Everything is foul,

murky,

raped,


inevitably crushed.


Irrefutably done.




Tracers & Shadows


72 hours, tracers and shadows.
Ghosts like prowlers and dark-personas devour. 

Turning him to vapor, as he drifts to the gallows. 
The memories are always shallow.

The souls-fire, Screaming like stolen vowels.




Crimson Sea


Like a crimson sea,

complimented with velvet waves.
With pristine froth like they were culminated from shavings of loss.

of the grandiose blazing lost.


The immense burning ones.

we all wish to be blessed by the sun,

but it's not our right.

Not yet.


We succeed in the clutches of the darkness, molested eyes.

The horrors.

The binds.

The fictitious people.

They are white oval light.


I could never trust.

So I put my faith in—

Demons of lust.

The more I vanish,

the more problems I crush.


I have peace now.

I can just let go.

but even in this,


You're a crimson sea,

with beautiful tides.

Dark.

Deep set eyes.

An artifact in my mind.

Curves that define.

I fantasize in my head,
Although,

Know,

there's nothing but ghosts and the

dread
You think that's the culmination of scarlet the brunette in red.

All the beauties, I could never have.

Never had.
So I watch them rot until I burned the bridge,

And said I’m fucking depressed.


Dudley’s hilarious,

and he was right

I’m already dead.
what's left

Until my corpse is to be remembered.

I confessed.


well not me,

but the fade calls I must create

for that's all I have.

The crimson tides,


Dudley,

Rick,

Habits that insist.

rusty, and

Scarlett the brunette in red.

Madness shows you the problems,

That refuse to quit.


Like the obsessive-haunting memories

that lie dormant in your head.

Read between the lines,

And tears you shall shed.

When all is said and done

You’re the only one left.



Binds Part I


Confidence outweighing tragedy.

These things are easier said than

done.

They're usually reversed.

Self-awkward blasphemy.


Self-Loathing mixed with chemicals,

Self-destructive pinnacle


Where did you go.
Ghost float through the wall.
but y’know—


I never wanted to waste your time.
You always seemed to take mine.

The laughter is a convinced sublime.

All that wasted time.

All the confines.

Darkened rooms filled with shrieks and

Bottomless wines.


At a certain point.

You were mine all mine.

With no excuses to find.

We were just two chumps.

Loving, lifeless slumps.

In the wrong life.


Although, that doesn't mean much.

Lust, broken hearts, and regrettable

floods.

You didn't even think twice.

She does what she does.

In your cold demise.


Although you searched for them when--

You felt his binds.


I never wanted to fix all the imperfections.

I just wanted your romantic selection.

In the darkest seas,

You would find perfection.

No one told you, you would be drowning

In a twisted heaven.


Intense outer blessings.

Euphoric I’m guessing.

Well I don’t know,

but you’ve definitely Become seven-headed.


Darling, where is your presence.

You simply vanished with the severance.

Not even an argument to leave us

Beheaded.


So let’s go where the sun doesn’t shine.

Twisted and warped by your own design.

To those dark corners of the mind.

Inside caves of the darkest kind.

Creatures hiss and whine.


You don’t care,

We're on fire.

Still you've got wonderful hair.

Skins reeking black puss, cold

despair.


Intense outer blessings.

Euphoric I’m guessing.


You don’t care.

You couldn’t wait.

Twisted, cold, & deranged.


You just had to take,

Venomous viper.

Slither away.

Go to jail,

I’m just past ways.

Rides for months.
Nights full of lust.
We're just friends today.


Please,

Remind me again why we decided to

Trust.


Line up all of my mistakes.

Claw my skin, stab me with rusted

stakes.


Don’t bring them to the front, when they matter.

Just pull them out for your escape,

Just like the looking glass shatters.


Vanishing act,

Behind the velvet curtains

You slipped away.

You couldn’t wait.


Or understand.

I just want positivity.

Please take my hand.
Slap it out of stance.
No, not a chance.

You’re damned.

Man oh man!


I can feel those

Cold-dark-metal-bands.

Off-balanced.

Cosmic Damage.
Psychotic



Wall-bending

These voices feel like swarming

Habits.


Cute-children-rotting-on-the-wall

A waking horror film that each

Chapter,

Feels like a disgusting,

New beginning.


Wailing-like-Alice.

A-regular-asshole-did-you-forget-about-the-damage?

I told you I’d wait for you,

At-the-never-ending-glass-palace.


Beyond the lustrous moon.

Tainted-king-drinking-from-the-same-

Dirty-golden-chalice.

Haunted-memories-of-the-same-dirty-

Room.


Galactic eyes.

Imprinted in a golden prize.

Crafted from the divine.
Steal his golden right,

Sacred demise.


It's not his fight.

You deserved it,

You know that right?


Same name,

New blight.

Shut up...

Just like your father.

Missing since the beginning of time.
Shut up...
His own binds.

Are you still talking?...


Binds Part II


Look it stopped raining.
Kind of like when you left.

Everything started weighing.
No time left.

That you could be saving.


Crippling whispers and now he's

fading.

How I kept running.

From all the things my selves were

debating.


Boy oh boy!

Do they get frustrating.
From endless waiting.


Dripping from the conversation.

Some self-awkward shame.

That I really shouldn’t feel.

Although, I guess it’s inevitable to say,

I like it this way.


Shuffle his feet onward toward isolation.
It's only you and the darkened

tendrils in the brain.
The shadows that incessantly remain.


Void of all that, on another plane,

stress comes in leaking stacks.

Reverberating laughs, darkest corners

of space.

Walk four miles while digging his own

grave.

Some psychotic thing that blames.
Chemical reactions lined with disdain,


All the frail glass scattered

throughout his darkened astro-plane.

Millions of things to say,

Scribble the confessions and light the

way.


Survive the portals of self-blame, and

psychological stains.

Dividing as he creates.

Perfect vessel, endless flame.


Endure the flash-backs,

and the hurricanes.
Well until wasted time catches up.

Isolation takes,

and the winds starts to gust stuff.


Whispering that familiar

child-bound lust.

He could sail the moon with his blood.
If only he could tear down the walls

and trust.
Why would she care what he does?

Shut up.

You always wasted my time.

Although since the start of the dark,

I’ve never got mine.


So they bring in ghosts for dinner.

Which are all of my past splendors.

They all gaze beautifully.

With a hateful hinder.

That latches on.

Until I surrender.

Lost in their spiteful conversations.

Though they are devils.

They happen to be my menders.

To remind me so I’ll always remember.


When the walls breathe.

I make notes

On how it’s a sign.

It’s getting close to December.

Inevitable cold divide.

Surrounded by ghosts that inevitably

shriek and whine.



They yell as we choke,

spitting the words.


“SAVE YOUR WARNINGS”

“FOR SOMEONE WHO ISN'T BROKE”

“CUT THE STRINGS—CUT THE ROPE”

“WITHOUT THEM YES, YOU’RE DEPLETED OF HOPE”

“ASK YOURSELF THIS:”

“DID YOU EVER REALLY LEARN TO COPE?”

“THERE’S A REASON I STOP TIME”

“AND SHOW YOU HOW TO SURVIVE ON YOUR OWN.”


“I YOUR TOXIC CLONE.”


Wild Fire


Remember Winter.

All the steeples you crushed under

your finger.

After a while, they're all just silly

people.

Numbers, you count in the after-math

of your evil.


Selfish, heart-eater.

A succubus lurks in his minds ether.

Tying me down to the things she's

stealing.

You goddamn lustful demon.

You don't need a reason.

Just a heart to be eating,

Make him suffer, as you’re leaving.



Well I don't live in a nightmare

anymore.

Get out of my scope.

You don't deserve my gaze,

My electric touch,

or the words I scribble

like desperate notes.


She knows,

but she needs a wild-fire.
Pathological liar.

Gusts of winds,

she stands in the middle of

all the bullshit.


Graciously teasing.

All the things you lost since this.

Fucking succubus.

Haunts your mental rifts.

Leaving again and again.
What's to stop you?


I fell for you like an idiot for

years,

Every night,

I wipe pathetic tears.


That come in bursts, like he feared.

Seeing his death,

He wipes away the smears.

Dastardly, crafting the hurt for

years.


A master plan, to make him obsess, and

then she left.

To deal with the worse kind of fucking

jest.


Well I’m dead

I’m ashamed

but I know.

Your psychotic ways.

Are insane,


I need some real soul,

not begging,

pleading

and always the one to save.


Get out of my mind.

Wrapping me in black wires.

You wild-fire.





The Meat Shop


Dudley has taken up ownership of the

local meat chop shop.

using the bodies of the rotten souls as hidden pasts

almost forgotten wrongs.

the horrors in their faces.
as he puts them on display in glass cases.
with melting wax eyes, their heads in

vases made of feet.
some art of mutilated meat. 

Standing on the counter.
singing out of key.

Oh, look at me.”

Look at these disgusting souls,”

 “now they’re treats!”


“their heart was once gold,”

promises only go ten-folds.”

Now it's a rotting black-hole.”


“oh, oh,”

 “I remember when we were gold,”

at six.”

six years old!”


“Look at the beauty in tragedy.”

All those wasted woes.”

Such a blasphemy.”

Oh, oh.”

 
“Chomp on their bones.”

It's disgusting like the trust,”

You would so gullibly hold.” 


“That's just the way it goes.”

It's already nine.”

Time sure flies when your lost.”

Floating in your own mind,”
“descending falling to your death,”


It's got rusted spikes,”

filled with poison,”

and on its pointed edges,”

shares her stupid eyes.”


I feel the darkness,

but suddenly, 


a new scene plays.

A character grows,


and I forget why

I was even upset

in the first place,


Dudley you swell,

crafty apparition of a guy. 


Psychosis # 1


I’m in a pitch black room, no doors,

no windows.


Merely an old weathered table & bar.

There’s a swarming audible of mindless

chatter,


that are indistinct.

Several people,

like Rick with his black leather

jacket.


With a pentagram zipper,

tattered skinny jeans.


Rusty,

with his obsidian cage that

holds a section of bars and eye slot,

his charred and muscular body is

wrapped in barbed-wire.

That slowly,

drips a staining,

acidic black tar,


as he heaves and grunts.

Scarlett, with her frilly pink dress

with a bow to match.

Dawning bright red lipstick

like you’d see in an Orson Welles movie,


with a smile that feels all fiery

and apocalyptic.

Her slender forearms

wrapped around her one and only

Margot,

who is identical to her,

but don’t let them catch you say they’re related.
Lest you be lying on the ground,

Bashed and faceless.


The life of the party Dudley.

He stands there as my clone, but he

glows.

All animated & funny.


A pinstripe jacket,

with a V-neck beneath.

He glares like a wolf,

There’s a cold darkness he seethes.

A regular Beowulf,


Who lies as he speaks.

As he talks to everyone laughing,



I slowly fade and their hands are

sweaty.


They start grabbing,

Like the way she left me.

I can't forget about James,

Who's merely a pair of shadowy feet.

With two googly eyeballs with furry

slanted eyebrows


that move to his rhythm.

No one else is allowed here;


we are the mystical council of the abyss.

It's a glorious gathering.
Wine is being spilled.

Ale is being chugged.

Songs are being sung.

Tales are being told.

Rusty savage wanted to be irate.

Dudley frog punched him, the obsidian

cage that masks his face.

Dented and crunched.


Scarlet began pulling him off.

As we all chanted a song in unison.

Holding hands.

Afraid we might lose him.


"Rusty savage!”

Holy emperor of damage.”

Raise the chalice.”

Raise those glasses.”

We all, can't handle it.”

Together we will all dismantle it.”


AGAIN!”

FOR THE DAMSELS!”

Scarlett is a dark beauty.

The strongest woman I know.

She gives no man her affection,

no woman either.

I wish I could be like her.
Ricks got an accent.

Dudley of course

is telling stories by the fire,

scaring the day lights out of us.

Standing up waving his hands acting everything out,


how he once knew a weak man

but through his own horrors

he became a strong victor.

The one who lit the world's fires.

Everyone’s eyes are attentive and

bright.

As if he suddenly spawned a stage,

creating insight.


Dudley,

Everyone wants to be.
Scarlett secretly wants him for her own.


In mid-sentence Dudley

snaps his fingers,

with a peculiarly loud clack.

That echoes and reverberates.

As all of their shadows form into one,

mutating.

I involuntary inhaled them and in a

snap,

A vessel that’s self-deprecating.

It only retracts.


A burst of white light,

followed by a malicious,

and callous whisper saying:


"It's that time again."


Following it’s echoing reverberation

Hours of terrifying hysteria,

finally, I stop the retaliation.

In the depths when there is finally

A certain silence,

there’s an undeniable revelation.

It's lovely here,

although, the party has ended.



My Muse


You're my muse.


Although I always have the choice to choose.

Five years and the binds have got me

loose.

You're my muse, and I’ve got nothing

left to lose.

There's a certain beauty in the noose.

The constricting beauty of everything

you abused.



All The Same


All the same

Intricately lighting the flames.

Burning bridges

Where's the hate?

In the evidence of your own blame.

I see the darkness and his cackles

light the way.


His existence,

undeniable and an incessant riddance.

I can't get rid of-

The electric sentence.


I see your face.

I can't find you in this place.

No need to erase.

For the haunting never ceases in your

gaze.


Those lightning eyes,

which I still pray,

to your grace.

The lightning bolt of your face.

Strikes as it takes.

Or tames…


What's the difference when you're

always conversing to him.

Letting everybody else in.

But him.


The split persona who exists in the

flames.

Your soft skin, afraid of the love

that grins.

Afraid of all the things you said

you'd give.



Where is your bliss.

Where have you been.

Lost in a man who counts you as he

lists.


The big break up.

Call it the shakeup.

I always loved your make-up.


The way it ran,

during this big break-up.


But I'd never know.

The way things go.


You always go.

Like things leave.

You laugh as you heave.

In the middle of grief.

I think I understand.

Then again, like a burnt leaf.

All charred and nothing left.

Well, well, my darling.

Where is the kingdom to siege.


A failed raid and I'm toxic,

So I watch you leave.

The most beautiful thing,

It seems.

The only true thing,

you wore on your sleeves.

The only truth,

that speaks as it breathes.


In my bed, in songs, visions of violence,

Reek a past lining your sheets

What does it mean.

You're not there.

Clenching what you could not keep.

This I cannot bare.


I'm afraid.

Of love.

after all,

when I first did,

I was touched.


I'm afraid I'm too deep.

In a memory.

At least you’re away from me,

you can finally sleep.

While I, watched you leave.

Leave is what I can't.

It seems.


In the middle of the brink.

I escaped your haunting,

heavy feelings correlate as they

blink.


A mind of their own.

A mind of their own,

and it's never true.

Because you,

I never owned.


It’s all the same

I’m used to the abuse.

Like you said,

I create the nightmare

that rots my brain.


A corpse,

Can only walk so far before they decay...


Separate


It’s hard to sever the heads off of a

colossal snake.

Shifting its blood just that it can take.

Regenerating

while it's being slain.


Its resistance increases as it

multiplies

from the slice of a blade.

Only if evil is slain,

does it fade away.


It takes All the hits,

Even those that should have it sliced

to bits.

Slithering away only to be stomped

into the abyss.


Even the ones that gleefully

penetrate,

Well we always say ignorance is bliss.

Like the levitation of delusional

grandeur,


an impenetrable tool of creation;

The magic of traumas gift.

No one said it was easy.
Manic depression is:


having the patience to climb a mountain all day.
And upon its marble steps, light the

world's flame.
All the while battling terrible

spiders and snakes,

who lie an always try to
make.
Quick-deals-with-the-devil-in-a-

plastic-cape.


I'm throwing up everywhere I wish we

would've been,

The ideal way you see your wife,

in the flash of a haze.

With the lilac scent that resonated

from her nape.


She must have bathed in gooseberries,

for her hand must be my fate.

Then why burn the bridge?

Like a tyke claiming to be a misfit.

A damaged psyche rapes the bliss.

And I can't take it.


Into the abyss,

we have faded.

Although,

if I’m sure of anything

it's that I can break it.

Autopilot has emotions delaying,

with all the visions of spiders,

chattering and everything concaving.


In reality,

only the silence he can claim as his.

Or his thoughts that swirl into

obsessive wishes.

All because he can miss it.


Traumas become new characters in the

beautiful abyss.

A thousand words circle like stars of

options and he can't even say it.


It's FAR too loud.

The devils have him slaving over this.

A clattering chaos in the mix,

which one of these personas can he

call his.


Piercing voices,

the nine self-states,

That take him on wild adventures

OSCILLATING DOOM IN THIS KINGDOM HE

CLAIMS AS HIS


their cackling, judging and convincing

him she's just like the rest.

Broadcasting delusional thoughts as

vigorously as a spider lays its eggs.

the harpy's waiting to sink her claws

into your little chest.

Talking to shadows like he hasn't had

a best-friend.


One whom has the will of a god

no matter the extremity,

Or depravity of the sins.

For 10 years,

and he never called it quits.

Even in the insanity

he couldn't bare to call it the end.
An Xbox magazine.


Taking a chance whether or not he

gives a shit.

Low and behold the stars aligned I

knew ever since then.

That we'd make the world happy with

our creative minds blessed with

heavy grips,


and repeated tragedy.

Creating fantasy.
Whilst we were both unable to handle,

the reality;


Of heart-breaks swelling insanity,

coating apathy with misguided,

delusional vanity.

With every failed strategy;

We rearranged our psyche;

Building a new mental anatomy.


We're a pair of regular doctor

Frankenstein's

Twin corpses,

rising from the ashes.

Crafted in impeccable design.

Captured by two prophets in disguise.

By two souls with double the grandiose

mind.


Molding a perpetual ever expanding

galaxy,

with our creations the stars

always

align.

We are the evolving fantasy happening.
We are the last of the shadow puppets.
And my friends we're always dancing.


Separate.

It’s confusing on this side.
She was ideal in my eyes.

We must be addicted,

the suffering of a cruel plastic—

guise.


Ultimatums.

Well,

at least they give us a surprise.

She was ideal in our eyes.


But I'm up until dawn,

talking to illusory moths.

Talking to Dudley,

sitting at a table in the tavern.

Then it hits me like an unidentified

flying guilt-trip,


reversed to bitter-spite.

Painted in a blinding-white.

I had no idea my galactic eyes,
Were flooded caverns.

Infested with behemoth spiders,

eyes of a glowing amber.


Realizing they’re being fed sorrows.

A creeping monstrous presence

in my mind.

I can't avert my eyes.


So the spiders pluck them out,

with all of the blood loss,

as they chatter in the shadows

muttering their deceitful talk.


It's safe to say.
I've already died.

The spider's now dawn a pair of human

eyes,

that were once mine.


What we once owned,

has no value when

it's only a memory in your mind.


Left with only fractals of pictures,

like a slowly disintegrating fragment

of time.


Just underneath their embedded

all seeing eye.

They tell me of this,

all while they devour my insides.


Their gaze of gloom,

but I’ve already died,
As the scene ends.

It begins to rewind.



Meeting the lady in red

at the wrong time.

Oh yes, the darkness waves

As I hear the laughs wind.


Nothing is as somber as a perfect

mistake.

Well we must suffer to create.

We must sacrifice the thing called

romance.”


So that the delusional grandeur

blesses our fate.

The first pleasant presence,

and all I've got is damaging

severance.


I'll be ransacking her for evidence,

so it's better that I’ve left it.

For years I prayed in isolation.

For romance and its grandiose

levitation.


Until Romantic trauma,

repeated itself until insane rambling

poetry,

Is all I claimed in isolation.

Flooding the emotion and mending the

pain.


Hearts always tend to break,

so we only give what we can take.

When they snap is when they begin

to shift and rearrange.

That's when you see yourself staring

back in the flames.


Analyzing all of what you became.

Unable to recognize the shadow of

yourself in the fade.

Starting fights

and always losing to the illogical

self-projection,


that you spit all the while—

pushing them into the back of the

fray.


Only remnants of evil conquests,

mutated as horrific stains,

until they create;


A new character,

or monster.

That haunts or graces


My meager existence. 

While I drop out into the

haze.

Gazing into the abyss,

It won't glance.


But personify, and talk right on back.

As if suddenly I've got claws, and I.

Can slash.


Creating characters


so real you

wonder what the point of

even existing here is.



Staring blank in a garage for years,

filled with smoke.


Smashed bones,

And my flesh and blood.

Well that's another tale of woes.


Until a world was created through

writing.

Dropping out to figure out the real

world


Talking to Dudley and watching him

dance with sharp swords.

Forced to see myself die by his hands

23,000 different times.


A forceful tortuous grind.

six-hour shifts to see how you

let yourself be defined.

Barbed wire, pools of black tar.

Transcendence from suffering

in a vice.


Only in the darkness

will you find the oval light.


Only telling him to disperse, Shouting

at the walls,

Telling him he only makes it worse.

For so long he was the evil enemy,


the apparition I was so afraid of

like he was the one who made me crazy.

Though we've become one in the same

Lately.


Ignorant to my own madness so he had

to slay me

In the raining hell-fires

of the tragedy.

Of an unending catastrophe.


Unintentionally I created a defense-

Mechanism,

a split-personality.

All my obsessions,

fears,

and traumas.

Molded into a faded reality.


Although I couldn't stop fading.

Drinking, and watching friends leave

one by one,

they all dissipated into the melting—

plastic sun.


Being used and abused by the most

cynical ladies.

You can't control what you've lost and

what you've won.


You’re not alone in this,

so don't burn the world.

Get up and show the world everything

you're creating.

Art is mending;

All kinds of saving;

Paint your name in the stars

go ahead they’re waiting;


They’re all yours for the taking.

I feel spiders crawling.

They’re whispering something about

"a snake only moves slow if it's got you"


She was ideal.

Yea,

well so is a spider's encroaching

evil.


It's just us in the beautiful abyss.

Though it's somber.

I can see her in my mind until the

end.

Though I'm staring fearless at a

behemoth of a spider,

I know she wasn't a sniper…


My mind has not mended from those

deception cravers;

Those seducing vipers.

The way spiders crawl inside.

A wriggling churning thing that

divides.

Lost staring into it's darkened,

but glowing amber eyes.

Into creation I dive.


I know nothing of fear,

False Evidence Appearing Real.

The definition of all that linger,

spider's and other horrors in my

mind.

I accept the swelling demons that

reside.


In creativity I mend,

and I strive.

These soliloquies come with the

transcendence of grandiose rights.


Let this be a note; Even the most

damaged and frail

can walk through the gates of hell.

No matter how many accursed lightning

blue eyes convince you to dwell and delve.


The regret has no value,

you're better off listening to your

friends that know you so well.

No one can afford time

or wasted youth 



no man,

woman,

or home-wrecker

that only comes in to knock around the

shelves.




Sadness: A Warning


Be careful with sadness,

for ignoring its pulsing nature

can only lead to madness.


You'll find years have passed

What once made you sad is now,

recessed rage.

You will undoubtedly find it difficult

trying to remember when it all

happened.


The only thing that seems to seal the

deal

is the lack of your friend’s voices,

and the boiling pain.

Your problems don't care about your

life;


If you don't dig at their roots,

you'll find people leave to soon.

Though few remain true.


You will find yourself losing friends

just like you've lost time.

Hear my words.

They are not pointless vibrations of

blurs.


Don't let yourself become toxic; the

worst.


At least not until you burst,

Take a load off,

no single-man can handle the weight of
the earth.


Don't lead your friends into the fire,

don't let them burn.

Take it from the toxic, the absolute

WORST.


The First Christmas

Since You Have Been Lost



I'll tell you why I go

Oscillating as his ego gloats.

He's got specters molesting his throat.

Those cackles reverberate Audibles and

visuals, like he can see times flow.


Even the dead up and leave.

Even the dead betray as they sleep.

Even the dead make mistakes and grieve.

After all, half a mortal with the

penetrating light of a god,


Down that vortex

Down that portal.

If there's one thing we've never

known.

It's the definition of normal.


Even the dead ramble, trust me I know.

Your poor soul.

My sweet prince.

I never knew how to loathe.

Can't trust a soul,

They created these mending grips.

How I've rebelled in its splendor ever

since.


After the inevitably of being

comfortable in the clatter.

All that matters are the flames

that rise, and the vibrations

that stretch off of his lips.

The moaning moon that shares his eyes,

Stealing his.


Trauma never subsides,

we’re only a victim if we decide.

Then why have I lost so many.

Taking their own life.


This universe of psychosis is back,

The irrefutable fact

That these fictional beings

are the most believable people

I've ever known.


So the waves of chaos attack;

Nine personalities chime in and laugh.

No one told me when I was six,

emotions,


would be just so god-damned hard to grasp.

Spilling ale and knocking against the glass.

Josh stop that.

We all pick-up heroin to forget the

past.


God rest all of your souls,

I just want you back.

Being touched at six-years-old.

It’s nothing, and still I ask myself

underneath this cold sky.

Where are you and why.

Fuck my girlfriend,

but of all things why betray me

that way, why did you have to die?

The clock ticks,

“Betray”,

Take my eyes,

For I,

Am a feeble creature.


And death?

It’s the cruelest,


inevitable, irrefutable, undeniable, unpassable,


unfathomable— Teacher.

Turning us all into weepers.


Take my eyes and slay me like Caesar.

You promised, you were getting better.

That it was getting easier.


Josh is at it again.

The voices oscillate,

How the fuck am I these figments

LEADER?!


They tell me in unison.


"Those fools know nothing,”

of the horrors that grasp,”

That take you by the hand”

and say we're the best of friends,”

that a loser has ever had.”

I'm all you have,”

So let me have my way with you.”

It's what friend do.”


As Jack the Ripper smiles stretch,

the horror of the past.

His cackling laughs

send us the message that madness is in effect.

Molested & erect.

He does nothing but touch and grab.

All their faces.

They're burning me alive,

This world is tipsy turvy and shaken.

They claw their skin to the bone,

They're all wasted.


I want to die, but then I want to maim—everyone who refused the time.

But not before floods poor out,

I'm a disgusting rotting piece of flesh

betwixt the pinnacle of the shroud.


All we can hear is the waves of

laughter,

I try to argue but the room keeps

spinning faster.

In the moaning silence, the calm just

after


A raging scream, there is no

difference.

The unison marks the transition.

To be free, you must crave the clatter

of

the chaos, all it takes is admittance.


Dome-Wyrd (Doomed Fate)


Oh, Dome-Wyrd.

Oh, self-states.

you lose us to the illogical and the

absurd.
The star falling across the distance

of the plains.
I hear it whistle, as I see it's

words.


"this is your fate"

purple and violet it intoxicates.

I hear his maniac voice, and how we've

got to chase.

It's energy, and harness it's

inspirational gaze.


This spider, the Fear, and all the little scenarios It creates, that same voice. getting louder

INTO MADNESS,

YOU WILL MEND THE ONLY THING LEFT

TO BE SAVED.

no matter of the dark tendrils

shooting up from the lake.

trying to molest my nape.

slime and ooze dripping down.

Making us shiver and shake.


a whisper flies left to right.

False Evidence Appearing Real,

you are the master of the apparitions


that have you convulsing like how your

convinced everything is an insult

if you were some frail deer.

humanoid in appearance, but you couldn't shriek.

you can only leer.
let me assume control and let the

chaos beam.
In the maddening

insanity,

you mend as you gleam.


yes, yes, yes, my GOLDEN KING

he screams.

BE FREE,

luminescent like the moon,

the lord of doom.


SLAY THE BEASTS.

THOSE TRECHEROUS DEMONS THAT HAVE TORN

YOUR POTENTIAL BIT BY BIT,

MAKE THEM SEETHE.

THE DARKEST DARK OF REGRET, UNLIKE THE QUEEN.
THE QUEEN OF DEATH,

THAT MADE YOU REAVE.

WASTING TIME,

CRAWLING BACK LIKE YOU CAN'T EVEN

STAND ON YOUR OWN KNEES.

YOU MY KING,

ARE FREE.

WE ARE WITHOUT BINDS,

LET THE BLINDING WHITE LIGHT LEAD.

With this fading energy

and self-state.

I laugh on my own with a wide gaze.

It's all so funny when you clean the

slate.


Finding intricate formulas,

strategic dealing of your own personal

craze.

some metaphoric hell of a prison,

you'll always learn from your

mistakes.


No matter how long it takes.

With all the drug intake.


Manic depression, and a bashed brain.

So many self-inflicted concussions

it's truly a wonder he's not his own

slave.

What a waste of time.
That voice still circles as it defines.

Making comments about how we're all

going to die.

If rusty savage gets out,

it's all over.


that's the end of all times.

A disgruntled brute,

with a six-year-old mind.

It's all about the strategies.


Accepting your losses,

and in truth giving them time.

I never did believe in god.

And I sure as hell have

had my

reasons;

That innocence and inkblots.


The source of Dudley's Rot.

I have accepted the innocence I lost.

No woman, no matter how convincing

will

ever claim a spot.


In my head or heart, no matter her

curves or the softness in her voice

The feeling of being accepted,

honey I’ve got the void.

So many people and characters

I’ve got some universes to create

before we talk about boys.

So I’ll burn the bridges I’ll be the

master who destroys.

I became what I must because of my

locked-in nature.

isolation and anxiety like I was still

a six-year-old toy.


some wasted vessel of potential,

molested by outward opinions.

So take what you can from your own

devilish minions.


Our mind bounces, with the

disassociation we feel so childish; So coy.


Go with the flow, and create your own

mind palace of a dominion.

in your own strategies you will

flourish.

Like the golden king,


represented by Dudley.

In your own madness you can find your purpose.


A Devil Coiled in Flesh

His eyes, bright and burning, cackles

as he steps.

His laughs make the world start

turning.

Black tar seeps from his breath.


Where did you come from?


His voice is maddening, throbbing,

and bursting.

You can't hide from what lays within

your mind.

The ultimate creative tool, the

maddening vice.

It kills, but it lets you survive.


The bridge he can cut with a slice.

He's hysterical.

Playing tricks trying to get inside.

They're all lies.

Nothing is real that they could

design.


Past sexual abuse,

there is no greater evil than by your

own hands, hanging from a noose.

But like I could never choose.

Just how I often felt I was shit into

existence as a ruse.

In the center of our psyche we

stumbled upon the truth.


A devil coiled in flesh.


Maniac laughter and I can still hear

the dead.

The darkest darkness laid—

dormant in our

head.


Once it was released, it made its

bellowing name heard, and then it

bred.


Spawning a world of terrible dread.

Forced torture for enlightenment

he shrieked as he said.


I will lead you to happiness”

If you listen to me, yah’ dolt,”

If you don’t, well,”

we both know you’re a liar.”


So adventures were sung.

Tales were spun,

many tempests took place with mighty

ferocious bolts.

Up the ladder we climbed

and many-a-bell we wrung.


I needed a push,

although, I could never let go.

So many skeletons hung.


Your severance.

Knocked me where I stood.


In the madness I found admittance.

It's draining,

Living in two worlds, but to reality?

Good riddance.


Not all who wander are lost.

Tolkien once said,


in this severe

psychosis I see everything that was

once gone.

Even the dead talk.


I spin in circles and talk in tongues.

Screaming and laughing;

Into the darkness I plunge.

The ceilings sinking and the walls are

cackling.


I guess I should thank you for this

wonderland,

even with all this disgusting tar and oozing sludge.

All the torment and the horror,

it's never enough.

Maybe when I burn up.

Until then I'll ...


I've lost my train of thought.



His eyes, bright and burning,

Cackling as he steps.

His laughs make the world start

turning.

Black tar seeps from his breath.


Where did you come from?


his voice is

maddening, throbbing, and bursting.

You can't hide from what lays within

your mind.

The ultimate creative tool, the

maddening vice.

It's kills, but it lets you survive.

Personality suicides.

I never liked the old me, White-rage-

divides.

The bridge he can cut with a slice.

He's hysterical.

Playing tricks trying to get inside.

They're all lies.

Nothing is real that they could

design.

Take a look at the mess of your mind.

Sloppy, basked in whines.


You need some pretty colors; you need

a change.

Seek between-the-lies.


Betwixt the horrors that always

define.

Unlike felines, we humans, we’ve got

the time.

If there’s one thing so many of us

take for granted, it’s life.


The darkest darkness

laid dormant in our head.

Once it was released, it made its name

heard, and then it bred.

Spawning a world of terrible dread.

Forced torture for enlightenment he

shrieked as he said.


A devil coiled in flesh.


Or is it really who I am,

I wonder, I do wonder.


Sometimes it's hard to tell the

difference, the thing that saves me.

It's simple, this composition hurts to

be read.


Dudley, oh Dudley hear this call.

Know I miss you friend,

An illusory shadow of perfection.

Unchained, lacking all of my faults.


I miss you friend,

and death is the hardest lesson.

Those echoing laughs that command as

they call.


The blunt way you guide,

Shouting as you laugh,

it's quiet and I miss you my white

knight.


I have no regrets.

Your euphoric white light

Has no equal but divine.

My beautiful devil coiled in flesh.


Bruises

(A Legion of Confusion)



I'm bubbling in the earth.

I don't know,

I didn't ask for this curse.

What are we worth?

Humans are all fools, until we learn.


I'm a creep

I'm a lurch.

I'm a sick puppy,

I love the way you hurt.


Call me addicted

Cause baby girl you know I never

listened.


This isn't magic, I'm no wizard.

This is just tragic, look at my pale

face,

Lifeless lizard.


Look at my scars,

Rusted scissors.


I try too hard.

Mental quakes and mind fissures.

Mind looks to the stars, stuck in your

blizzard.


Can't accept the facts,

Why is it so hard to listen.


Even with insides screaming.

We both know, you won't come back.

Door slams and your leaving.

Bubbling and steaming.

You're own your own and heaving.

So many excuses, but you can't accept

that you're the demon.


No matter how many backs I bend.

Memories haunt like the dead rend.

No matter how many letters I write,

They won't be sent.


The scenes you draw over and over

again.

Have no end.

Your claws have such a tightening

grip.


Guilt comes in echoes, screaming

lists.

An audible execution.

The way you go fooling.

I'm paranoid, sleuthing.


I try too hard, but an endless legion.

Has you spiraling in the confusion.

Soulless breeding.

Well I guess my love,

Is just abusive.




Continue reading this ebook at Smashwords.
Download this book for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-115 show above.)