Transduction

Stimuli tickle my corpuscles boundlessly bouncing against walls of jagged glass...Shards like shackles penetrate Persephone's antidote of abduction and not into the haul of fame or haul of shame but the bride of the underworld where worms and whippets vie for some sort of value when there is none to perceive in a world of trepidation teasing time with forboding not floating in a sea of fear where sharks are movie stars full of teeth like daggers that shred the haggard souls of sadists consuming the latest lysogenic cycles like the wheels of a bicycle they turn into a frenzy of falcons that swarm like bees around their boxes into  homologous transduction with viral vectors stay clear of Hector who corrodes like a vector stamped with a watermark of stain no darker than blood from the bosom of babes we draw an ace of spades and the DNA is laid across the table like chips of the lucky clucks the woodchuck whose teeth are hacksaws of stolen yard tools, the cells scream out from every direction. Chlorophyl, make you feel blessed for the transduction instruction... God my words suck tonight. The end.

Five Zero

Dreading it like death...
Another year of becoming nothing...
Empty...
Fat...
Alone on the phone but nobody's speaking...
Oh death, do you have to whisper sweet nothings?
And how could you whisper sweet nothings to nobody?
A ghost among the living...
Deep in a dark forest...
Unforgiven...
I swallow down a forever sleep...
When Morpheus arrives it's then I will glide...
On the wings of a pig not Pegasus...
To a shit pit of mud and worms.
Germs.
Gobble me up so I don't reach the day ...
I turn 50.

Maculate Macabre

Eyes plucked out like feathers..
Drift upon the wind...
A sea of sequelity unable to live up to expectation...
Only looking into the hour glass from outside the hour...
Without a minute to spare..
Spores of tendons bounce to the beat of the dead drum...
Leeching lessons of festive nonsense...
Alienation like no nation of Trumps and puppets...
Seize the quintuplets and even though the five are alive,
It's not the number of completion...
Brain cells swirl into infinity...
Dark matter is the divinity...
While the blood runs black as night...
Oozing from every orifice...
Purple haze...
In a daze...
As the life drains out into the monstrosity sealed within this skin.
Bathed in dread.
Maculate.
A beautiful macabre.

Left Behind

Left behind like food that wasn't eaten...

Wasted after being tasted...
Cut off from crucial source of sustenance...
Spoiled, soured rotting..a benevolent being of abandonment....

Oh decay, I say, must you sit and wait so long?
Whilst the throng tramples upon the maggots...
And faggots...as in logs not homosexuals idiot...
Burn at light speed...

Beautiful colors of fascination...creation...
Ashes to ashes... one mustn't strife...
For dark as death...it brings one life.

Peanut Butter Fantasy

Where in your hair do butterflies find daisies if the black flies circle jerk causing a dark cloud of conscious but have no fear, a weird fat lady appears throwing glittery globs that sprinkle down like jobs of smiles and smithereens of joy that flow like a river of catfish in jelly rubbed with peanut butter fantasy. 

Fragile

Like a salamander's tail, impaled by innocence. The sting of the tongue calls for a tincture of toxin or flood thy veins with dragon's blood while they chew their cud a hoard of robots in top hats smoking like Absolem chained to his hookah. Frail and feeble knows no needle even when the vein wants a drink must be time to think of diamonds in the sky falling like lye frothing bubbles in my eye I want to cry but the tears are torn in too many minutes and time's of the essence but time's in a bottle kick in the throttle for a long sleep cometh.

**strange mood tonight**  

Visible To Me

Blinders like a buggy horse,
they trod past him like a piece of trash on some sandy sidewalk,
somewhere but no where.
Ignoring faces, avoiding eyes like he's some cancer or dancer and not the normal kind mind you.
Why? I ask, why do they not seek the sageness that seeps from his very aura. Words like a warrior.
Humble yet brave.
A wave of something sweeps my soul into a vibration, a collation or relation,
for tomorrow I pray that he'll stay in the realm of reality safe from their blindness and depravity.
To them he's a vapor but he's visible to me.