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Written [03/03/2012] In your head I plant visions of my bones in your bed remembering bitter smiles painted bloody red on the rotting faces of the dead. Their sagging bodies thrown into pits, lighting matches, sulfur, flame, flesh melts like wax, and you're to blame. Gorse bushes grow on the peripheries of dreams devils teeth and fingernails claw at the seams of my guilty desires, tearing skin like wire. Cloudless skies bleached the colour of bleeding tongues screams of the young rise higher, fearsome like a raging song yet to be sung. I am Weakness, you are Fault, we are Beauty's grain of salt. How many more night will we feel like this? How deep, how steep is this abyss? I am an outcast, steadfast in my insanity, I speak the language of profanity. Our throats grow cancer like exotic fruit our paper skeletons climb into tailored suits. We are toothless dogs force-fed our meals burning like logs, yet cold as steel, "Do the deal! Think, don't feel!", the world advises, but I ! peel back its subtle guises, facades artificially formed, born of fatalities and exercised formalities. Salvation is the best told lie: to live is the fastest way to die. It's hidden in the joint, it's the thought at knife point. Your life is small, like a child with a fever, as sharp as a blunt meat cleaver. We all have impulses to pull the Golden Lever, be the believer, deceive the deceiver. An atomic existence, emotional resistance the first and last instance of speed before distance.

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