{definition opulence}
anger and frustration all rolled into one;
wrapped up like a burrito; and forced fed like a tongue; tainted with spite for the one who's adored;
joker played melody's; stuck on remorse;
capture these cool hard feelings; take them in, give them a home; name them, play with them, they are your own;
with colors like candy to dazzle the eye;
distract from the mission at hand; and all that implies;
deep, centered, selfish; a teetotal prick;
there's world going on beyond the tip of your dick;
visions of blood stained carpets and walls;
mighty are the chosen and mighty they fall;
beg to be different; beg to be forgiven;
but everything's different in kamikaze heaven;
these rules that don't apply; nothing goes right;
thoughts of the first time with visions of fright;
connect with the little madness; everyone has some, and knows; drink like a hooker, smoke like a whore; fuck like a madman, walk out the door.

...time...
i'll ask for a second to gather my thoughts up. they were spilled on the counter and im afraid when i got up. they fell through a letter to this girl that i know. and she reads them quite slowly devouring the up words. with one hand beside her and the other much lower. she's waiting for something she wants to discover. i will not desert her, i will not desert her.

so i take all these pills to try and balance my brain. but im even a little more than afraid. that ive gone off the deep end and i cannot swim back. it'd just be so terrible that i'd have to laugh... another drop in the bucket, it scares me to death. im not much better than most or the rest. she has built up this shrine in an image of me... full of things i cannot see...

i might swim to an island where i'll be alone. no more discussing these things with anyone. because i can't explain how or why that i am. im too old to be changed, im nearly a man. she begs for forgiveness and i duly oblige. and this circle gets repeated when she asks me why. why does the dew smell so good on a field? if maybe it didn't would it make it less real? or maybe its nothing more than a dream. would knowing that make it better or worse than it seems. i'd fall to floor and simply stop moving. and see if anyone asks what im doing. and if they didn't and the world would go on and not notice. the death of this idiot, madman, and poet. i think it'd been fun to go to my funeral. and make farting sound or something as juvenile. what i want when i die, yeah my last request. is to replace my head with an old TV set. so all in attendance just might have some fun. watching old I love Lucy reruns.

i post here sometimes
Lit Kicks

another site of mine
One Man Out