forgotten_poems raze was a time when i offered up bleeding chunks of myself for everyone and no one. now my skin is leather. my lips are furtive serpents. i don't bleed. the urgency of attempted self-annihilation is gone, and in its place, amused profanity. 220925 ... raze can this cancerous fall bleed a heaven from the sky? thick tendril of a new life, almost urban in its sprawl. lovers naked from the waist down. a curious atrophy. failure rich with irony. the alternative not anticipated. he to the she to the eyelid, bone-dry. at least they can still laugh at themselves. when you lose that, you know the end is just an afterthought away. fingers splayed to touch the ceiling. that old familiar gutshot feeling. 220927 ... raze i'll bottle every explosion of curdled breath. it's high time. not a time to be high. see, i can't tell the difference. but i can scrub these dirty days until they shine. 221006 ... raze the pain is a blessing in questionable clothing. all romance drained from my eyes. i built a soundstage out of pylons and prophylactics. some were defective. some were flammable. strange green substance in a mason jar. strange eye shadow makes you three feet tall. 221007 ... raze if your fear don't make you weak, i've a promise we can keep. no man is an island. he's a burning block of cinder. 221012 ... raze you look like a small, intricate house from a fairy tale or a dream. a house that walks around. an almost human thing. 221121 ... raze there's blood in the water and the sharks are out. blood in the water and in your mouth. 221203 ... raze and through the haze of nicotine fingers, a body breaks. a fragile truce crumbles. 230102 ... raze you love her like a lamb loves the killing blow before the braying overtakes them. run along home. no one could ever hope to plumb the depths of you. 230423 ... raze unease is an unspent season. crush the gold and melt it down. tucked between two teeth, affection. an ornamental string of beads. common minerals and metals — each one freighted with complacency. the obvious is still in doubt. here lies a lover of unreason, gifted back to the elements — haunted now by the ghosts of orchids — left to starve by the hands that fed. satisfaction begets disquiet. heaven ain't but a frail hope. threadbare homes for the out-of-earshot. they'll hang themselves if you give them rope. 250428 what's it to you? who go blather from