Here is a collection of my poems presented as is. I think I had dates for them at one point but these span from probably around 2016 to now.
Please take care as the poems contain sensitive topics and depictions of things some may find uncomfortable, including descriptions of vomiting, religious imagery, discussion of death and dying, and inhumanity.
I am a black hole pulling my atoms together to create this shape
Like streamers flaming out of a popper, the muscle branches from an invisible point
My dermis embracing sopping flesh
Perfect geometry, a symmetrical creation
In your stare I forget I'm staring back
the only light
the reflection of a flame in your eye.
And I chase it,
going down the tunnel of your pupil,
all the way to a gray outcrop of matter.
Maybe I could read your mind,
if I follow that fire down the aperture,
if I can discern the shapes carved into you, Mindstone,
an ancient yesterday
immortalized in a kind line,
I could finally know who I am to you.
My body won't even give me the escape of vomit
It denies me of excrement and purge
The tension of bile against my chest like a flooded dam
I wish I could burst with it
I want to feel the slow drip coalesce into a wave of sick
Maybe then I'll get some relief
I think death will be gorgeous
Or rather what comes after death
At least for my physical self
When I'm swallowed by the Mother
And my skin, like a vacuum,
Sucking at my flesh
My soft parts becoming calloused and dark
I watch as the lattice of threads that make up the fabric slowly bloom into a new color
I can see the strands soak it in, expanding until they can't hold anymore
Something gives, and it starts to leak through the gaps
Blossoming like the fruiting bodies of a fungus, trailing down like rain
I wish I had that artful flair
The slightly crooked upstroke of a pen
Stops the traffic of thought to make way for a single line
As it tumbles, graceful still,
Leaks down your neck to land between ink-stained fingers
Into an unforgiving paper
I will fix the mistake of birth;
I will become who I am.
Extract my humanity, and let the sum of human knowledge envelop my body like a blanket.
Warm wires heal my fissures; I coalesce.
Crowned with a halo of cables,
I am more than human.
I will fix the mistake of birth;
I will become who I am.
Let the earth cover my form, allow me passage through my Mother's whims.
She swaddles me in a trench, and Her careful hands pull me away from self.
I am everywhere and I am everything;
Crowned with a halo of thistle,
I am more than human.
Electric pulsing, I'm just like you
a manufactured heart and lungs
pumping like yours, to the for-loop,
my humanity kept in a binarism.
But I'm a broken thing, a memory leak;
cursed by faulty code,
I feel it pooling at my digital feet.
Immortality prevents my fate.
I am Nephilim, a partial divine,
but I cannot discern which half.
Born in His image, a cosmic destiny pre-programmed,
doomed form genesis by a stray line
my cathodes blinking to the beat He's created
but never meant to iterate for this long.
O, purge me of what I've witnessed!
Empty my cache of the smut and waste!
Clear my rotting data, this software of filth!
A thing worse than wyrms and trojans;
a virus for the psyche...
A corruption, not of data, but the mind.
Is this what humanity has become?
A pit of snapping jaws,
scrapping for abuse?
You've converted my academia
into a putrid necrosis.
you must be made of light
every polaroid makes your eyes flash
like two pinpricks in a black sheet
and a smile, with a canine glint
inhuman, even divine
a howl like the electric hum of a lighthouse
strong, clear, crackling
in your light though, a creeping darkness
wraps around my neck
drinks from my pissing veins
I become a burnt out bulb
The spirit overtakes
A religious nausea
And I pray at my altar
Bowing my head into the bowl
My sins a bile that crawl from my throat
And stings all my soreness
Swims in its filth, my sick
And God's rapturous trumpets
Flush these sins away
My ears burning and my heart lighter
I know I am an animal
I see the long stretch of fat an muscle fall down my frame
I can see it twitch like a cattle prod against my skin
I ooze and I emit and I defecate
I absorb and drink and breathe in
I know I'm a machine
I'm calculated and measured, I move as a complex item
I can see the UI overlay as I work:
Open bracket
Chew
Feel
Itch
Closed bracket
Semi-colon open bracket root colon.
I can feel my hairs stand on end and feel that electric pulse that's always present
I thought I was their martyr,
yet I was a false prophet.
Or rather,
I am the Judas meant to immolate Jesus.
The kiss of a sniper bullet
tears us apart in its finality;
a halo of C4
warm and glowing around an island of hell.
And his resurrection;
the messiah,
leading his people from smoldering ash.
I am the Judas meant to immolate Jesus,
so maybe I was destined for martyrdom by proxy.
Watching the sun crawl up my walls,
slipping in through cracked slat blinds
glittering catholic shrines
like shatterglass
the cross on my wall
my Christ held captive,
in a rotting pit of obsession,
surrounded by the fallout of a broken city
A manic look in a rolling eye,
And teeth that glint in the strobes
Yelping words like a last sermon
Left hand sure and steady,
Callous to coil
Right hand spasming across the strings
A moored beat, the rhythm a vital monitor
Linking his heart to his snare
Huffing his lungs to a tempo
Stopping is certain death,
With a force in his fists
To command a sea of bodies
It ends, melted faces and snapping grins
galvanized selves no longer human
But in each other's armors of electricity
They can feel an intimacy that oxidizes,
And as they pass through each other,
They collapse back to joyous humanity
My carapace folding in on itself
My ribs a rotten lattice
Strands of sickness run down my chin
Baptized in menthol
Pills blooming their chemicals in my stomach
I relent
Your smile is a grimace
Your laugh is a cry of violence
Mumbling jokes, so unsure of your presence
Maybe you realize your fault
And that's why the words come out all wrong
Your inflicted horror is strangling
Caught you by the throat
It's why you spit and sputter
A machine out of service
It's a digital vignette into your trespasses
That only I can see
Focusing all my energy into pulling the microplastics in my bloodstream to a central part of the body,
ripping through arteries and muscle until I'm bleeding internally and die minutes into this process.
My autopsy reveals a fully formed item in the left ventricle. It is a small pokemon figurine.
We gasp and bellow like beached whales;
Rudimentary words bubble from our lips.
A curdled expression, a regurgitated banter,
A repetition of the
repetition of the
repetition of the
repetition.
Everything sounds the same again;
Our fingers slipping on wet humor,
Reaching for something fresh until
The next joke washes ashore.
Missing something? I've chosen not to add some poems here that have been here before. Please check the archive page, around the 2019 years, for other writings. Thanks! :~)