The hounds encircle me now.

Tracing their prints

in the bloodied sands.

Eyes locked into mine -

like orbs of fire sending shivers

down my spine,

“Welcome to Paradise,

parasite.”

I know I'm outta time.

I think I've always been.

I had to seek to find.

And find I surely

fucking did.

The birds of the air are

eager to tear the flesh

from my bones -

because I’ve been

broken to pieces,

easy prey - I’ll pray

without ceasing.

Or else - I end elsewhere.

I swear no one else

can see this somewhere.

Nowhere’s known by

nobody - ‘cept me.

I wish somebody’d

fucking help me.

But I doubt they

can hear me -

over the ground

screaming.

The seas ceased

seeing.

Broken waves -

waving goodbye

to the shores of

eternity -

collapsed and capsized -

are the currents

that carried you

to me.

Shattered skies

falling all around me

- raining glass

down on all my

fucking dreams.

What’s left of

the air - knots

itself around my

throat

- so I can’t breathe.

You take my breath away,

babe,

and I hope you know it.

That mirror

doesn’t recognize

me - won’t hear my

pleas, my reflection

carried off in the breeze

as I fall to my knees

begging bleeding

clouds for mercy.

I traded this

peace in for

shame and regret.

The deal of a lifetime.

I’ve gotta admit.

As a dog -

I’ll return to my vomit.

How much longer?

How much colder can this

soul get before I freeze?

How can it be this cold,

when there’s fire all around me?

How will I burn, when there's

nothing left of me?

How can I be me,

when everything

in me,

is absolutely

empty?

How can I see, when my eyes

are veiled by misery?

Drag me into that

fire again, friend.

A good burning

would do away with

my cold heart -

tear me apart -

cast me to the swine.

Rest assured,

I’ll be fine.

Time and time

again

I’ve prayed

to see my last

day - suffocating

from my mistakes -

longing for a grave

as I stare Grace in

His face.

Each morning I rise,

a corpse awakes,

ready to lay the day

to waste.

I make haste to

taste the bitter

things - everyone

around calls them sweet.

Word on the street,

outlines of a new life,

begging me to see light.

They lied when they told me

it was inside me.

Everything in me is worth despising.

Everything from me is good!

I’m lying.

Truth fucking dies in me.

Falsehoods cling to me like a soot covering a crematory.

My soul spreads disease,

an infection of my heart,

there’s an ailment in my mind.

This contagion - call it dark.

It’ll spark up an inferno

from the flames upon my tongue -

It’ll spread to everyone I speak

to - and it’s only just begun.

When I start to write my

fucking issues

- then you better start to run -

when I let the fucking dog loose -

then the wolf is sure to come -

When my words are

tied like a noose -

then the hang….

- “Hang on…. That’s 500.”

“Guess we’ll call it.”

- “Call it? Leave ‘em hanging?”

“Yep. Leave ‘em hanging.”

- “Whatever you say, man.”