Thursday, January 31, 2008

Don't get cross.

Thank Goodness,
I'm on the Road to Hell,
I mean,
I sure was worried there
for a moment.

Here's the thing,

I just don't think
I'd fit in.

Up there.

A Heaven,
filled with so many
Martyrs
and Popes
and Evangelists
and Fanatics
and Believers
and Soldiers
and Reformists
and Intellectuals

and fucking
Harp People,
Jesus,
don't even start me on the
fucking Harp People.

What about,
the Abstainers and
the Faithful
and
the ones who never lie,
who never get jealous,
who never cast a stone,
who never judge,
who never fist,
or whip,
or hide,
or run,
or cum

just for fun.

There must be one,

frightened,
little rabbit,

afraid of
The Truth,

afraid of
decaying,
rotting,

afraid of worms,

afraid that this,
today,

is nothing -

means nothing.

And you are aren't you?

you're afraid of nothing.

Afraid of Hell,
and that
it doesn't even
fucking
exist.

Then you'd be pissed.

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Cone of Silence.

I'm not sure what other people do when they are alone.

I scream.

I scream when I'm driving my car and I start to think about how it rained yesterday and how spiders always like to find a place to hide when it rains and how my car was parked under that big old tree and I'll be driving down the road and I'll just start to fucking scream. I'll check all the mirrors to see if the spider is somewhere visible, or if it's crawling on the outside of the car waiting for me to open my window. I'll start to move my legs around. I can feel it crawling inside my jeans. I anticipate it's arrival at any moment and I fucking scream - a howl, a torrent of curses, an avalanche of terror - all tight and violence and compressed into a single moment. Driving back from the country it's worse. All those trees, all those spiders and it's night I'm driving down the freeway and it's dark and there's headlights coming at me and it's raining and trucks are everywhere and the spider is waiting and I know I'm not going to be able to calmly pull over, I mean, I know I'm going to fucking flip and why is that truck so fucking close and I'm gonna die man, I'm going to fucking die, this fucking spider is going to crawl on me and I'm going to lose all control and that truck can't fucking stop in time, it's going to fucking crush me man, any minute any minute I knew I shouldn't have parked under that fucking tree I should have parked in the driveway did I leave my fucking window open white knuckle white knuckle can they get in from underneath what the fuck was that WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck you FUCKING CUNT FUCKER CUNT. FUCK. AAAAARGH FUCK.

I scream, you know? I scream when I think how easily I could have hit that child standing by the side of the road. I scream when I remember how I behaved that night, after the tequila, in front of our friends, I scream when I think I could have made a difference, or how that path is closed forever, I scream when I want to fucking write, but all that comes is a piss vague stream of 6th form poetry, I scream when I believe in something, even if I am the only fucking person who does, I scream when I think about how fucking scared people are, I scream when I think no one else has the fucking guts to be as scared as I am, and to fucking show it or to fucking write it down, I scream when I think everyone is too fucking sedated to even feel fear, to even want to scream, they're afraid to scream, they're afraid of showing themselves, afraid of embarrassment, afraid of being the lost, the lonely, the damaged, the dumb, the worst, the needy, the screamer.

I scream at night, secretly, when everyone is asleep. I walk to the park, down by the creek, and climb the hill by the swings.

I wait for the silver face to show itself,
and I get naked,
and I fucking scream.

And goddamn,
it feels so fucking good.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

The Animal in Me.

It's time to play,

[but the eyes don't lie
this is no game,
this is the edge of pain]

as out from
the red mist,
Lust appears,

smiling
in order to
hide the intensity
and violence
of passion.

[Fuck me
Hurt me
Take me]

I know this is
The Devil's dance,
but I don't care,

for the lick
and spit
and tongues of
her flame,

greed and grab,
salacious saliva,
wanton and weak,

blazing,
bruising,

Lust,
Lust,
Lust,

drives me
excites me

and no matter
how far
inside
her
I
am,

it's not enough

until the skin itself
is torn from bone,

[fire is not enough
it's hotter than fire

heat is not enough
it's hotter than heat]

closer,
further,
you make me
angry,
aggressive,
desperate,
to claw
and climb,
further inside


until in a flash,

sweating
and
screaming

[it is:

light, home, release, laughter, animal, abandon]

A pause.

Afterwards,
here in my bed:

Lust becomes Truth

my
favourite
companion.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

The Death of Me

I can see it.

The End of the Road.

[keep it simple,
I'm going to keep it simple]

The lovers,

The Devil
and
Virtue,
do not speak.

There remains only,
these last few steps,

toward Death.

And the absence of all things,
bring the stars back to life,

the darkness in me,
only makes them shine brighter,
as memories dance in me
as colours,
vivid
as the days themselves,

and I can smell green,
and taste red,
and hear blue,

[I miss you]

and forgiveness is a colour,

and it is Gold...

It is then I realise

the meaning of Death,

and with the colours
he has given me,

begin to paint my afterlife.

The Jealousy in Me

[it was so obvious,
but I didn't think,
FUCK,
I am so stupid,
I am so stupid]

Through the trees I can see them.

Through the trees,

I watch them.

Through

the

trees,

I

can

see

them.

I can watch them.

I want to vomit
and masturbate
and cry and scream.

I want to vomit
and masturbate
and cry and scream.

I WANT TO VOMIT
AND MASTURBATE
AND CRY AND SCREAM
DREAM AND CREAM
I NEED TO SEE
IT FUCKING HURTS
IT MAKES ME HARD
OH FUCK YOU FUCKERS
MAKE HIM CUM
MAKE HIM CUM
MAKE HER CUM
MAKE me RUN
MAKE me CUM

Instead,
I walk back to the fire,
light a cigarette
and simply

stare.

Hoping that
they will walk up to me,
and ask,
what's wrong?

So I can say,

nothing,
it's nothing.

In this situation,

I find flirting
with Death
a dangerously
attractive
distraction.

Monday, January 14, 2008

The Wonder in Me.

I am asleep.

Death and I walk slowly together across the night sky.

Death is weeping.

His tears fall into the dark and form stars,
and the stars form a path,
and the path draws me on....

I feel alive,
I am walking on stars, and I know
that these stars are you and I.

I wake up.
Goodness is beside me,
smiling.

She asks,
What did you see?

I say,
Fuck, it's so beautiful,
it's so fucking beautiful.

I know,
she says,
I know.

I sit up and rest my head on her shoulder.

The Devil is nowhere to be seen.

But there is Death,
standing aside from us,
and staring into the sky.

And I can hear him weep.

I can hear Death weep,
and in the waking life,
his tears are not stars,
but notes;

The most beautiful song I ever heard.

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

The Emptiness in Me.

I have cried,
you fuckers.

Do you want to know me,
the fucking
writer,
or the man?

You
sterile fucks.

Safe.

In your bubble,
do you want to know
the sordid details?

The times
when
I have
returned
empty handed,

or more to the point:

hands full.

I have cried.
You fuckers.

But far worse...

I have cried,
and not cared.

About you.

And that you have
cried too.

The Honesty
in Me,
is the emptiness in me.

I didn't care,
that you wept.

I mean I did,
but...

When you cried,
I grew scared.

When you cried,
my eyes
left your shoulder
and searched the wall
behind you
for interesting patterns,

hey,
it looks like Jesus,

cunt.

The Devil,
Death,
and her,
sit around the fire
listening to me speak.

And even The Devil
is lost for words.

As I,

Man,

tell them for fucking once

exactly how black,

black can be.

Monday, January 7, 2008

The Killer in Me

It's the three of us now,
a trident of anger,
a trinity of revenge,
all fork, fuck and fire,
and there's the target...

[blond, middle aged, drunk, ignorant]

We have a chance,
The Devil says,

and then
I hear Death
for the first time.
(I never heard him two weeks ago,
miles away, far too late)
He doesn't speak,
but I can hear his breath,
rasp and brittle,
bone and spittle,
hunger and hunt.

We have a chance,
I repeat, softly,
and I can feel them
inside me now,
forming
madness and terror,
three as one,
time to strike,
time to fucking strike,
take it all back,
the black the black,
the hurt and the Hell,
the fists and the fear,
take it down
[into the black, make it all black]
take it down,
and let it all end

here.

[the blond shifts lazily in his chair,
his eyes are red,
and I remember that color
on her, on the floor,
on his hands,
and then
I see his tears,
for so does he,
he knows,
the slug man knows]

The Devil:
NOW.

[mathew]

The Devil:
NOW.

[mathew]

The Devil:
NOW.

[mathew, it's okay...]

It's her.
[Thank Goodness]
She's here.

And The Devil's rage
at her interruption,
is the ache
in my guts
that will
forever lead me
to drink,
the booze,
the fire I drink,
as close as I get
to tasting

the blond man's tears.

The Fear in Me

It’s when I can’t see them,
The Devil,
or Death,
that I begin to grow nervous.

When Goodness and I are alone at last,
a bright, warm day,
the road stretches far ahead,
the kiss of a warm sun
the feel of her skin.

Sigh.

I’m dizzy now,
but it still doesn’t feel right.

Because I know they’re there.

Because I keep them alive.

The Devil, my shadow,
cast first upon myself,
and then upon her.

And my Death.
My beautiful, lonely
and resolute
Death.

[It is still not time to face them]

What shall we do today?
Goodness asks.
The air promises much,
and I am hungry for you.
Are you hungry for me?

I am hungry my love,
I say,
I am hungry for it all.

And I am.
Some.

But that feeling in my stomach,
is mind killer,
it’s fear, it’s fear,
I know they are near.
And right then he comes,
and says in my ear:

You won’t face me,
you can’t win,
I am your Devil,
I am your Sin,
your mistakes,
your pride,
your aching
and selfish,
crawling insides,
your anger,
your thirst,
your lust and
your worst.

[He laughs]

Everything you regret,
you share with me too.
And at the end of this road,
I will be waiting for you.

[she is smiling beside me, unaware]

You speak the truth fork tongue,
is all I can say.

But leave Goodness and I,
to at least have this day.

He whispers once more in my ear
then leaves.

I squeeze her hand,
as we walk further down the road.

Goodness smiles at me.

And it is enough.

Saturday, January 5, 2008

The Goodness in Me.

Goodness lay on the couch.

She didn't look well.

The Devil sat perched on my shoulder and said,
there's nothing you can do, let's get out of here boy-o.

Death stood in the corner, silent and patient as always.
But I could see him looking at her.
I knew that look.

Leave her with Death,
said The Devil,
It'll be easier, I'll make it easier...

Goodness.
It's true,
she'd slowed us down,
changed our path, but
I was loathe to walk away from her forever,
for as much as I was in The Devil's grip,
it was Goodness who kept me sane, kept me whole,
reminded me of why I was on this trip,
and without her all I could see
was me, Death and The Devil.
for all eternity.

So.

B, what are you doing?
I could tell he was angry, but I didn't listen.
I could feel his claws in me, but I didn't flinch.
I could feel his hate, born like flies
from the maggots of his lies.

And I bled for it, believe me.

But.

I leaned over, gently kissed her, held her hand,
said, wake up, Goodness, I won't leave you behind.
Picked her up - heavy, so heavy -put her softly around my shoulders,
and said,

Okay, now we can go.

The Devil frowned as I trudged ahead.

Death followed, as Death does, forever silent, one step behind.

Wednesday, January 2, 2008

Heavy words are so lightly thrown.

Here on the side of the road you can taste the future
and it's dust/heat/sand and
sweet.
[that's right - sweet - no sweat]

Remember the old ways?
Remember when the words came as tears?
Remember when your meaning was a knife,
but all you managed to do,
was cut yourself?
Remember when you goddamn gave a fuck?
[because now for once -
it's true - you really
fucking don't - you really
fucking don't]

So here on the side of the road just sit and wait,
for the Three. The Devil and Virtue and Death.
[they come for me - teehee - teehee]

And while you wait, your cigarette is a kiln,
and the heart of clay sets hard as stone.
And all these words, are for you alone.