sorry that was awful. nobody reads this anyway, so it doesn't matter. all of it is really just mind slate. vomitus i can't keep cerebral. pain i can't medicate. sound that refuses to remain silent. but the last ladybug of the season keeps clinking against my lightbulb and wonder when she'll die, or burn the fuse, or call her gentle mantis to take her away give her a couple of larvae for purpose. accident. i would have said something more refined, but i cried the last of my intelligence into my sweater. sat sobbing for the blood of people i never knew and still i felt the metal split between my ribs. what they love is farce, what they breed is fear.

outside

in the wake of skeletal snow covered branches and streets slick with the frozen liquid, i've only got so much heat left in me before i wretch it all up out my weightless skull as i dance and fall into death beneath the avalanche of god running endless on wispy beard and brothers' blood, remember when eden was so quiet, the lions were perpetually stuffed and sleeping, we dangled by the river with our fingers in the water, reflections of reflections imbuing one beautiful and self-contained prism, but the sky has frozen into bricks and we pick the air like poisonous grapes, every bite filled with the metallic taste of blood crimson swishing in our mouths, all of it worthless no end something you can't break the letters that don;t speak only the guitar strings in summer than bring you back to the grass matted children patterns, nothing, nothing, the sound an echo now, the words only breath, useless. garbage.