Poll: ..
Poll Options
View poll results: ..
Innocent - Red
2 33%
Dumb Fingers - Black
1 17%
? - Green
1 17%
Ouroboros - Navy
2 33%
Voters: 6.

there once was a girl who ate flashbulbs because
she liked the taste of the light they inspired.
i found obsession in her peacock feathers,
charred by young machine gun fire.
she was a ceiling fan turned up to eighteen,
spraying deafening white noise through ebony teeth.
i followed hollywood down her throat, where
tangible sounds could no longer be reached.

pollock could have painted a more realistic picture,
but she was beautiful, coloured with whiskey and wine,
with her lips sutured shut and her eyes locked on mine.
it was just me and her, her and me and my hand,
my hand in the blades of that drunk ceiling fan.
but the red carpet had the sharpest of teeth,
and my skin started falling apart at the seams.
but she wouldn't turn off! she was always turned on.
and i could no longer feel your body's heat.

so i did what i had to to get my skin back:
stretched it into a canvas and painted it black.
and i put it back on, wore it like tattered rags,
and i covered her mouth with my darkened hands
'til she'd suffocated on the taste of acrylic.

and the coma ships got there a little too late.
i had torn her apart, piece by piece, blade by blade.
i'd made love to you there, where the evidence laid
as a twisted reward, as a sick accolade.
but that's where they found the strangled remains
of the ceiling fan i'd torn apart blade by blade.

"Dumb Fingers and Plaque-Stained Teeth."

Turn up the volume 'till I'm deaf
and give me hands that can play
a harp strung with barbed-wire
like in that epidode of Futurama:
"The Devil's Hands Are Idle Playthings"
because we're done with guitar
lessons and I still can't play Stairway
and I'm in love.

Spin wheels of furtune so hard
I can practically hear "Ka-ching
because my city's under my city
and they paved over my
old love-life with years of
tree's finally dying and I'm pissed
and in love.

I see Eye in every
apartment closet
and every orphanarium
and every swans down-feather
and prescription medicine
for my "stupid fingers."
because we're young
and badly-drawn
and in love.


I had a dream
That you and me
Would find a new way
To communicate,
Then you went and
Had the same dream as me.

I was on course
To go and succeed
To find a new twist
In a jumbled sea,
Then you went and
Believed what was a lie.

Your loss of faith does not astound me
This twisted plot continues to amaze
Your loss of faith will so not stop me
From pushing our button,
And until you find your senses
We've ran into a question mark.

Below planes that fly
We've each found a lie
I think we are doing right
I don't want to give up the fight

Your loss of faith does not astound me
The twisted plot continues to amaze me
Your loss of faith will oh so not stop me
From pushing our button,
And untill you find your senses
We've ran into a question mark.

Come back, come back, come back, come back.
Come back, come back, come back, come back.

Wake up John.


Stare at these flies dead upon my palm...what do you see?

..Ten..Nine.. "faulter" ..Eight..

A caustic reprimand for every lifestory
is fissured within the furrows of these manipulates.
Seek the hidden fold and follow it to
a tried attested spine.
I am a finger scrolling through sentences of Genesis.
Then, only then..
..find faith in this revelation;

"And the earth was without form,
and void; and darkness was upon
the face of the deep...."

..Seven.. "falter" ..Six..Five..

Amoral stanchion..
Aspired column pave these clouded pathways.
Walk the aisle; be fond of breaking binds upon a tired spine,
I canter, slowly,
I cater strangers eyes
I am a gesture suggesting the forcing of the end..

..Four..Three.. "felter" ..Two..

"Do those who walk a path unto the light..
..waver unto the darkness in the void behind?"

I don’t impare an identity.
I imparted mine.

For I am One..
..the Alpha and the Omega..

and I live within the void behind your eyes until you sleep,
with those dying flies
within your palm.
Filth, pure filth... That's what you are.