Can you feel it? Constant! But, did you touch it? Violent! Have you heard it? Deafening! Have you beaten it? Bastard! Will it kill for you? Flattered! Surely, you know it? Unholy! Can’t you find it? Magnificent! So, it’s evil? Natural! Are you bleeding though? Factual! Yet, you love it? Only! Now you need it? Actual! Were you so caught up in the questions to realize the expletives don’t make sense? Did I feed you two separate narratives or make you dissect a single message? Do you feel influenced, or misled? Is there a difference? Ps. I still can’t decide if the pictures came before these words. Are they meant to give meaning to my words or distract you from them? That’s your problem now. Change your perspective. P.s.s. Stfu

💛🐝💛🐝💛🐝💛🐝 Sublimated salutations created by imitation meat by institutions that offer depleted solutions for these prostituted streets. They are believed by the bereaved seeking endearing affirmations which they then accept neglect of any intelligent explication. In turn, they are awarded stimulation by excavated dissertations that are merely a parade of celebrations with all the gratification of masturbation. If they applied examination to the lies and the placation they would have the realization that there is no exoneration for the bastardization of imagination. My fellow procreations, make them make reparations, they have abused your dedication, used against you your lack of expectation, and avoided any explanations. I ask for the formation of just exemplification to make a nation that calls for laws that lead to their immediate neutralization. I speak of euthanization. Then I advocate for vacation. My opinionated representation. Congratulations.

💛🐝💛🐝💛🐝💛🐝💛🐝 All at once I was faded beauty. All at once I was once young. All at once I became but a bladed tongue. All at once I was rage. All at once I was pain. All at once I was what little that still remained. All at once I was pity. All at once I was shame. All at once you once knew my name. All at once I was heavy. All at once I was dark. Then there was a spark. Little by little I saw a light. Little by little I found my fight. Little by little I grew strong. Little by little I knew my right from your wrong. Little by little I began to rise. Little by little the tears dried from my eyes. Little by little I healed. Little by little the pain began to yield. Little by little I let go of my rage. Little by little I turned the page. It hurts a little once you’ve been bitten and the sun fades to black, but once you’ve decided to live a little, you can once again come back. All at once I knew I was alive.

Smash down the barriers, and run through fire. The cost of lost desire. A necked noose and cut skin. One final primal sin. Swim oceans scared in the absence of shared emotions and devoid of devotions. There’s no escaping the raping as they pillage. A broken home makes smoke from a burned down village. The cage of a tormented mind leaves only claw marks on the wall behind. Seeing eyes grow blind. Loving hearts no longer know to be kind. Generous men no longer give. Good men simply cease to live. Champions fall. Darkness calls. Love is given, love can make, but love can take, and love can break. Every tower built by love spoken is easily destroyed by the power of a heart broken. Tenderness is weak. I am a stone heart with two turned cheeks.

A homage to music by Bradlee Gillen Soothe me my magnificent machines screaming meaning against my rage, but burn me in the spotlights of beautiful people until only ashes turn my page. Spare me from the vestiges of ladies bare and naked adorned with the flags of bulls on parade. Keep my appointment for tea for two just for the insanity I've went through to have it made. I anoint you with swollen blisters from the sons and the doctor’s needles that tear holes to give stollen aids. We are forsaken in our deals with devils when we've mistaken cards collected with debts being paid. Knock down the three doors at last and walk fast past all the pumpkins being smashed so you can hear the dying young sing of being good and how long time should last. You hate me, so you stray from me, when my Rammsteins have beaten your whole son black until the seismic power of my temples lay gardens of sound to lead you back. Organize these pieces of audio my slaves and eat the little jagged pills. Now, follow me as we swallow them in the name of who you kill. Mother mary my heart will weep for you still. I've been folded five ways and may hold seven more days from grace, for I am only like a virgin with a tiny dancer's face. We are windswept candles with no handlebars. You won't remember why you came so far away from snake bitten veins when you remain closed to doors left open by people that are mainly strange. Follow me further down with my sickness and witness the demons of me in which it’s woken until the defeating sounds of my own silence violently remind me of a mind being broken. Drive it home if with only a lonely radio and one lone headlight. I've done one shot of Moms spaghetti. Nom nom nom. Ready? Saturday night.

As children we all feared made up monsters. We feared what was in the dark. We feared places living men had ever been. We feared hurtful remarks. We feared the unknown. We feared the names on every map we’d been shown. As children, we feared being alone. We feared of blood and broken bone. But, we’re here, now we’re grown. Now we wish we could go back again, to way back when, because now we know the real monsters are really men. I pray to regain my child’s eyes, and my child’s fear, for I was afraid of made up monsters, but wish they didn’t disappear. The truth is much more scary.

He didn’t know he would own only a lonely existence. He didn’t know his resistance was wasted. He would have faced the facts. He would have acted accordingly, and afforded himself some lax. He wouldn’t have tried so hard to please them. Again, he didn’t know. He would have passed on living fast, and would have loved to love so slow. Instead he went to the wayside. He’s an abandoned boat rotting on a bayside. He’s some sort of forgotten ghost. He’s cold water when warm wind was what he needed the most. He is driftwood caught in the undertow. If he only would’ve known. He didn’t.

He sees her reach out to him. She takes tenderly each of his hands. Her eyes are so pleadingly beautiful. She reaches out. He sees her reach out at him. She reaches each time she seeks his protection, and her smile turns to a tear drop with fear in the face of it’s own reflection She reaches out. He sees her reaching when he needs her to teach his heart each and every day the gospel truth the true meaning of love. He saw her reaching out. He saw her touch. Touch his face. Touch his heart. Just touch. Reach out of him when he’s grown cold and alone, and only knows her touch when lonely tears reach gravestones. But, they reach. He sees her, and naps in the sunshine.

Give me seismic love above all others. Give me the love of the eyes of mothers. Give me the love of lost brothers. Give me love so big, that it smothers. Give me love that catches my only breath and saves the wretched from the clutches of lonely death. Give me love that’s real, love that’s raw, love that screams, and love that heals. Give me love I’ve only seen in dreams. Give me love that steals. Give me love that kills. Give me love that fills. Give me love until it spills. Give me love that breaks hearts and bends men’s wills. Give me the love only children speak of. Give me love so great, one could never rise above. I beg you, before it’s too late, give me love. Salvation is a four letter word. Give love. Love.

She stole a drop of my sweat that crept slow down the nape of her neck. It was pushed by my heavy breath pressed against her cheek. She is trembling thighs, rolled eyes, and knees left week. I hold her tight. She is not free to leave me tonight. She is a bitten lip, and a white knuckle grip. She is slippery hips. She is a carnal scream. She is running streams. She is thrust. She is the culmination of all my seeded lust. She must now fulfill her calling. She is heated desire and clothes that keep falling. She explodes, she breathes deep, and she collapses from exhaust. She has known my passion, and now knows it’s cost. And…………….then I cut the umbilical chord and the doctor let me hold you son. That’s pretty much what happened. Glad you asked. Why are you crying? Don’t be a little bi….

I’m not a painter, but lately I paint. Now I’m covered in paint clear from my ear to my taint. There’s not an inch here that ain’t. “There’s half sometimes. The paint is cold ok!” I showed your mother my rear painted. She fainted. She fell out from laughter. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have turned around after. “I just had paint in my eye. Yes, mirrors make me cry. Why?” There’s friggin’ paint everywhere. The dog, the dog bed, the shed, and there’s blue dog hair in peanut butter. “Yo asking for a friend mf’er!” Oh, how do we know Brad ate fluffernutter. Dunno, just the blue fingertips. “I meant fingerprints!” I have paint on four and a half, plus one middle, that’s six. I just tried to wash off, but I’m still covered probably sixty percent. I’m not a paint lover, but it still sure gets me bent. “That means mad. The smiles fake I promise.” I wish paint could’ve just came and went? Won’t you just come and go? Whoa, I just thought about my dad, but for a friend though. “That’s legit!” (Echo-Echo) BRAD! “Oh…………Sht.” So, on that note, I’m off to paint these sheets. If you need me just follow the blue butt cheek streak painted streets! (Let’s pray) “Dear Lord, May this paint tainted day please end! And, tomorrow, sainted father, when I wake up, may my friends just think their girl is wearing blue make-up. Amen” “It was for research purposes. You guys aren’t scientists! Don’t judge me! Lookin’ at you Judy.” (Whispers) “Wit da booty. Call me. GN”

What is righteous? What is divinity? What is right? What is divine? We try to answer these things by drawing imaginary lines, blurring times, and falsifying facts. We tell stories that justify our acts and to get some glory back. What is it to truly die? What is it to bleed? What is to know the destiny of the spear? We will cling even to darkest deeds just to shelter us from slightest fear. We’ve grown weak. Too weak, it seems, to even turn the other cheek, or softly speak. We fake our strength with angry voices. We amplify hollow power and let men design our choices. We weep. We mistook kindness for being sheep. So, we wage war, we rage against ourselves for made up legacies and fabricated wealth. Why are you blind? We search the world for answers that only a spirit can find. We lost our sight. We pray to dollar bills and cower from its might. True forgiveness is looking at the very thing you hate, everything you’ve lost, and taking all that weight so it can hang you from the cross. I stand here, my sisters, my brothers, I lay bare my every sin, and say we’ve been forgiven with a cross of thorns, What does it mean to rise again? Let’s show them. The big man already took care of the important shit. We are forgiven. Rise better.

Valiant they march towards the battlefield, Seeming to be impervious to pain. They will march through snow, through mud, and through the rain. They come to plunder. They come like thunder. They scale the walls. They tunnel under. I pray my Lord to save these beseeched, but it’s far too late, for the gate’s been breached. They will lay this land to waste without a blow or swinging one sword. This vicious treasure seeking horde. These heathens and their nefarious reasons. So, as our eyes meet, and the many lay before my feet, on this fateful day, I say…………… “It’s 30 fking degree outside. There’s literally snow. Of course we can have ice cream. Anything for my princesses. Send it. Braaaaaaaap!”

Just at the edge of the precipice lay the valley called your fears, and here will appear the totality of your tears. I know you’ve grown so weary, you wish fear would disappear, but my dear, it will clearly still be here. To carry its great weight will be your fate, for it is akin to all your sadness and married to your hate. Pay it no attention, and give a lifetime spent on lies no tithes nor single mention. Do not try to surmise the darkest days of your past, for the cliff is coming, and it comes surprisingly fast. And, just past it lay your every hope and all of your dreams. Close your ears to keep nay sayers at bey and cope with all their screams. Make haste and chase your glory. Face your destiny. Write your best story. Don’t waste your journey lamenting on what you lack. Hence you’ll attract anxiety that intends only to hold you back. Open your clever eyes at last or they’ll fade fast to everlasting black. You must cross this chasm, or trust you will be it’s slave. Choose only to climb towards your future, or to just dig a lonely grave. Gather all your courage and all the energy you have to give, or you will surely die discouraged for failing to truly live. Everything you’ve ever hoped for lay at that mountain top, so never ever may you stop. Eyes forward, look up, use your fortitude as a weapon, and above all else tell yourself to keep steppin’. The voices never tell you if you will fall or if you will fly. You have two choices now. Stand tall still or how you will die. Tall am I.

Tonight I steal one moment of quiet. The whole world should try it. Away from the love, away from the hate, and where nothing at all seems something so great. A moment away, all alone, to relax, Away from the job and away from tax. To be free from the noise, from the hustle, the girls, the boys, and be away from the bustle. A moment away just to stop and shrink, a way to reflect, and a way to think. A moment to hear your own heart’s song when it’s far from right and a ways from wrong. A quiet moment, to be fair, is increasingly rare, for if you’re here you can never be there. Tonight I will cherish a moment like this, but tomorrow I’d trade it for one simple kiss. Tonight I steal quiet, I earned it, I own it, but I certainly pray that it’s only one moment, For tomorrow, when I wake up and greet the new day, I’ll know that life is but precious moments away. Good night peeps, love ya!

Cut hydrangeas  Baby’s breath  Lovers weep The picket fence has a broken gate Pray to mangers to give a quick death or at least keep some faith Rings of gold Broken vows  Hearts gone astray  Behold the wandering and lustful eyes  Grown bold in the light of day are they that pray towards skies Lost signals  Rampant anger  Resentful voices  Actions that beg for consequence Original sins lead men to danger and to choices that won’t make sense A misplaced touch Bad intent Names of mud  Lost is all fair understanding So much time spent cleaning blood from the face cut from loves under-handing The house is a happy home is all that it appears, but those poor overgrown hydrangeas just couldn’t escape the sheers

He stood on good intentions with a penchant to give all his heart, but no one ever mentioned it could all fall apart. And, In fact it would, so he stays alone in memory of moments that were good. He’s been lost amongst the fray. Once agin he’s paid the cost of love that wouldn’t stay, and love that wouldn’t fight. He hangs on to ideas of her with his every ounce of might, but starts to fall behind. He’s lost all the rest of himself, time now comes for his mind. He becomes merely a shell. He knows full well that he’s destined for the fires of Hell, but he knows Hell well. He’s heard the screams. He’s seen hooves, the horns, and hate, for they haunt him in his dreams. They taunt him to his face, and remind him how she’s left him in this god forsaken place. He knows the fury of a woman scorned, but wasn’t warned. He never asked, he was taught, for she was clever enough to wear an angels mask that he had bought, He was mistaken. Now everything he had to give was brazenly taken. He remains amazingly shaken. He begins to break and make great mistakes. Her love was fake. He loses all, and never heals the wounds and bruises from the fall. His barricades have been breached by beauty. He lost his direction and all sense of duty. So he curses at the skies and prays things get made whole. He prays that tomorrow comes to save his soul, but just before he’s completely torn and starts to break up, he wakes up. He offers only a cold blank stare, for daylight comes again, and brings with it a fresh nightmare.