Filthy Angels, Monster Breathe.

You've got to give me
a break,
a sentence set apart
in time,
at least a ghost to
talk to in the night,
when I dance.

I don't understand every one
of my waking moments,
much less the nightmares.
I watch Kate tortured
in front of me,
French resistance,
so many burning bodies,
always throughout time,
the witch trials,
like my attempts at sleeping,
just prolongs the nights
and the Court sits high above.

What medicine is there
for that prophetic knowledge
from the ethers
that comes banging on the door
each evening?
You would call me odd,
crazy even,
you must in some moments,
in your head,
over and over,
and I grow weary of the sound.

And I told you months ago,
in the old apartment,
I had a bad feeling about
this cancer,
only 2 years,
seems like it's own
fighting this thing
we can't win over.
I already miss parts
of you that haunt me
in their small deaths,
dear brother,
parts of me moving on too,
tis the result,
as down the rabbit hole
we go even further,
into dark and and certain
Hatter madness.

The candyman drinks
his choice nectar,
a living death,
the puppets in their corners,
stand ready to fight,
blood bathing and caging
those beauty filthy angels,
raping her and laughing,
Was this just a game to you?

Boredom reeks,
We the ever over-stimulated
by a culture
that pretends to care,
fake metal,
and a man in the middle honey,
just a lie,
wrapped in tinsel,
with lips, tits,
and now has learned
the magic art of winking.
Learn to crave better soon,
for I grow faint
due to the heat and construction.

Calm down monster,
and breathe,

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