I was seventeen mascara and lipstick opal rings on her fingers pale and thin long arms acting was already ingrained in my blood: she has the grace of someone who barely perceives their own beauty A star in a movie without a director: playing the responsible sister, the actress, the model and the star. I have been drifting through this city from party to party photoshoot to photoshoot set to set. I stand and pose in the nude I pretend to be better than I am I pretend that I am someone else I say and do things but some days something creeps in, a malaise without a name, found only in images: a clock striking midnight in a desolate room the reflection of my own face in the window of a café a police cruiser moving through an empty city street its only when accompanied something which feels unusual for me that I feel more fulfilled. like sitting with an old woman hearing the soft murmur of her voice, the moment when she places her wrinkled hand upon my own her warmth transfers onto me her small then wide smile, in small moments like that, my heart fills like a balloon that could burst at any moment. and sitting here now it makes me realize that maybe I really have been doing it wrong my whole life

the ability of poetry to transmute beauty from nothing, from thin air saves my life daily, repeatedly in a sometimes despairing anxiety inducing hair ripping existence

the exhilaration screaming matches white hot rage, the adrenaline. the reality is darker, and simpler. true sensitivity, a soft pained center with a massive callus formed upon it.

in which he sees his own insecurities, and personal flaws like a distorted, childlike reflection

high fashion, low standards drunk on cheap red wine halter top and exposed shoulders draped with a fake mink coat plastic sunglasses on party all night, high on molly she has the distinct sense that something is wrong bodies contorting and bending as if seen through a massive fire

the distorted and grotesque figures watch these men as they descend into the depths. some sprint into the mouth of the volcano while others dance in circles around the lava as it flows down over their bare feet

you signed the contract i own you you belong to me. God himself witnessed the signature. even in death, you will not be free. you will be my slave in the afterlife

the men march through Spanish streets holding whips wearing capirotes they walk past the children, the women through long thin corridors moaning aching and bleeding deep cuts, lacerations. the penitents whip themselves an act of sadomasochistic sexual violence: a sensation, metal digging into back muscle, causing droplets blood even some cum to fall like sweat onto the ground

I stand isolated, always angry. No matter what it seems like there is no point. I take my fists and hit the wall and when my knuckles break and crack I start to use my head

I hate you I would rather kill myself than you live I would rather hurt myself than see you I would rather be raped than hear your voice

amidst a crowd laughing spectators the man with a hard on brings out his idiot slave crawling in rusted chains and a neck collar

I am only in my midtwenties already living in this hellscape, do you understand the humiliation, the loneliness and alienation you feel walking in public with a limp needing to hold onto the handrail, using a wheelchair while still in your prime while wincing in pain only to have your motion reduced to walking up a flight of stairs opening a door and even these only with great pain. when you are injured or physically disabled people leave you behind, you stop feeling human it feels like a burden on those around you, the shame but they dont wait for you mortality and death are not far from your mind in cases like these. you really start to hate genuinely hate the people around you you watch people older than you fifteen or twenty sometimes even thirty years older run and sprint and walk pain free, like children dancing and exercising working out and wrestling all without even the slightest bit of gratitude. all of this unsmiling. I would give it all up to have my leg back. I would let them take twenty years from me precious memories, even speech. I am stuck in a flesh prison, meat sarcophagus sealed in skin. when I fall asleep, I forget. every day, every time I wake up it's there – inescapable I cant even laugh you cannot understand it might happen to you I would do anything to cast off this millstone hanging around my neck

the daily routine has become that which my muscles strengthen around it forms the tempo by which I live my life it creates the rhythm around which my heart beats

The sun falls. The cracked skin on knuckles. A cigarette lit in the dark. Blood dripping down the side of his face. No glory no history in this moment an eternal struggle that never ends

there are no words, no expressions or metaphors that can describe the soul wrenching pain that comes from this preverbal torture

party to party to party bar to bar to bar street to street place to place bedroom to bedroom person to person office to office party to party to party person to person face to face with a life that makes me want to scream

a pregnant woman holding a cigarette, a chic pose with an outstretched arm. the fetus choking inside the womb suffocating

My parents are getting older. Their faces look weathered, tired from years in the sun. My father his scorpion tattoo above his bicep has faded with time. My mother looks tired, her skin wrinkled. My parents are getting older and I don't know what to do. And as I approach the age they were when they had me uncertainty and a vague sadness engulfs me. I still barely know what I'm even doing here.

the twilight hours of an eternal Mardi Gras alcohol breath, police sirens waiting outside a crowded bar friends drunk, talking and smoking cigarettes in the dark their faces bright and warm neon lights color the streets hues and shades red and yellow and blue the bars have closed they walk ahead. I stand behind and stare at the full moon over the water

from the bottom of this pit past the grates I can see the sun fading as the water begins to fill my mouth

nails twisted bent into the skin, the abdominal muscle bloodcovered nails and skin and wood commingled. A cross.

the sun falls onto the nightstand. a body hangs in the living room

a dog sinking in black sludge barking, paddling he cannot move he is stuck he will drown

I still want you in my life even if you only remain as a burning, stinging memory.

painted nails chipped teeth

the garbageman holding a plastic bag full of trash halting only for a moment while opening the final dumpster. A dead and rotting infant unused toys old condoms and candy wrappers

He was about five foot nine and one hundred and eighty five pounds. He was convicted in the state of Virginia in the year two thousand and two. Two counts of aggravated assault and one count of attempted murder He now stands consumed in wrinkle I was about your age when I got in here you better smarten up or you'll end up just like me

the television is off. the coffee girl stands behind the glass

tachycardia run red, run red beating and bleeding

These two men stand each clutching onto his end of the saw pushing and pulling ripping into the meat and bone of this carnal carcass. One wipes the sweat from his brow his hand comes back glistening red and clear with blood and sweat.

singlet tight muscle, adrenaline handshakes the match begins

slip here feint there and then the knockout punch blood on white canvas hands raised

I say that I was born two million years ago, maybe longer ago than that. This is what I am. I am white and pale and I was worshipped as a god before civilization existed. I have existed since time immemorial. I am an anachronism, something hitherto unexplained language is a tool and it remains insufficient, though beautiful, in its attempts to explain my nature. I am alive and have been alive for eternity. the cave drawings depicting me as a god four hundred thousand years ago the sighting of me at the beginning and end of a battle in 1400 BC the ramblings and diary entries of a British explorer who went mad No one has pierced into the utter simplicity of my being I am older than time I am older than the existence of language, the dawn of consciousness and logical thinking. The creation of buildings, the discovery of fire. I am no god. I have no name. Not an unutterable name, but no name at all. I cannot be tamed. I cannot be dominated. I am present within your blood, your muscle, your bones. I have been present at the dusk and dawn of every war the site of every genocide, every holocaust I have walked along the sands of every battlefield I have existed for all of eternity And I will never die.

an ambulance speeds through the neighborhood down the connecting street towards the hospital this bloodied figure male and young and troubled now sits upright and says laughing from adrenaline oh man oh man that is a lot of blood, isnt it?

A flower sitting atop a small hill: a child prostitute standing beneath the flickering streetlight.

A windchime made of human bone: it belonged to a child His name was

where is that little boy that I used to be? is he gone? or does he live in my heart. is he dead or alive, or maybe he is hiding because its the only way that he knows to feel safe

a light shining onto the floor in an otherwise pitch black room

and I can tell from that look in your eye that you know how it feels to drown.

who is the architect of my suffering. is it me? or something else. who controls my fate. why do i occupy space on this earth. necessity? causality? maybe there is no reason. maybe i am dancing for a burning star alone

Flash. a scared child face in the dark. bright light then black

the soft white moon casting its long black shadow: apparitions of little birds sleeping on my windowsill

he is so small that his entire hand can only hold my thumb.

my lungs may deflate my arms may wither but where I have been the gods have walked

her moans and short hair like a young Bacchus

black and red dramatic and operatic: lights camera action

The song fades. scattered limbs of children

His hand clutching the rope he stands on the gallows wielding a name.

refrigerators hanging carcasses all meat

whoever wears this mask must become a god. the two modes will soon collide, and something entirely new will rise from your ashes. hear me lest you fail to understand. Fire and brimstone: whoever wears this mask must become a god.

he touches his abdomen deep red blood near the point where the Roman spear had pierced him

die today or die tomorrow. what is the difference. the same sun scalds my brown hair. i am still raw flesh

the grey clouds of my life will soon lift. And the sun, beaming and radiant, will shine its rays through the dissipating clouds and the soft slowly fading rain.

i danced laughed and cried. i lived a perfect day

the whole world smiles upon me like a mother upon her child

the fear and trembling the shaking and anxiety must die away. the old man starts to cry as he approaches the light. you are dying, the little boy says. but you will live forever. the love we shared with the dead lives on and we continue through life a little sadder, but with hearts and arms open and we love those who remain with renewed intensity. you are moving now into the same place you knew before you were born. the little boy lets go of his hand. the white hairs of a dandelion blow away in the wind. the long expanse, an open field the setting sun

long wrinkled farmer hands eyelids hoodedover staring at the blood red sun chewing on a spitrake a whatchamacallit ah goddamn it its called a tooth pick

and no matter how long I have lived it still feels like no matter what I do i will forever be looking for that (something)

And you will Get your fruit from life: And it will be sweeter and juicier than ever before, oh, it will be grand.

the blood rushing through my skull: my eyes water and tears drip down my cheeks. Oh, sweet death your song is warm soft and perfect. Your cavernous hands clutch me into your heaving breast and into my own oblivion.

she is pregnant the playground fell down no, no it burned down the playground burned down