My music seeps out
from a hole that never heals,
bleeding how this feels.

more honestly though
apparant control issues
wouls SO be why not!!

opinion and live
openly believe and think
with others in mind

if you don't have one
it is only because..i'm sure
you are hiding it

I know it's not time....
but.. 5 out of 7 do it
like it's a secret

oh well it is though..
a secret from the prudies
all two of them..left

thus yet we do prove
it is stll fun to hide things
from others /parents (??)

sweet venice nightlife
players on a booze soaked stage
total badasses

i agree with you
ganja is good for the soul
i wish i had one

we can create jobs
stimulate economy
and make people laugh

she gives in withdrawn
from distance set by fabrics
from her skin to his

do not torture me
he is not good enough for you
my offer still stands

My hands want to move
along his back when we hug,
gathering him in.

Restraint is keeping
honesty in bondage while
trying not to feel.

a joke resplendant
tongue betwixt the balanced spheroids.
reserve most aghast

imagine solace
sanctuary from horrors
hand beneath scrotum

well we do sometimes
take each other to task here
but thems the dry bones

laughs

kind nature my ass
from the gutter we shall rise
but not very far

metal is a funny
genre, so much anger released
and they say things...

that many avoid
in these so called dark tunnels
inside the deep mind

I've noticed since snail
showed up here a different
good kind nature shows here...

Stories seems so real.
Grandmother asleep.

new computer box
a clutch of other hardware
it's an obsession

Wearing my corset
You love how it flares my hip
My ass is yours to..?

It is four years gone
I still feel the ghost of you
...floating inside me.

a comrade in arm
a friend, a competitor
the giver of strength

Strength sapped, cancer won.
Buried six feet deep you rest.
That was four years then.

But that ghost of yours
still finds a home within me.
...and there you will stay.

A noble thought strikes
and I try to capture it
by pen and paper.

As I clean my home,
each item has a meaning
that he will not see.

One more day makes
just another year and so
when is fruition?

a splendid fellow
raised brow at norsk death metal
say you're comming love

the sea has given
sarcasm laced in wet faith
does it dry with love?

release where is it?
but the current just held on
and that piece of wood..

she sings old show tunes
she's helped into bed then sleeps
tattoo on her breast

not even a noose
could stop the horrific fall
that lead to nowhere

spoken by a child
love speaks in broken language
yet it speaks most plain

Imagine it's like
Psychiatric waiting room
Then it makes some sense

There are other ways
Other places to get help
On all ones hang-ups

Let me out! I'm sane!!!
Christ now you've got me at it
Haiku arguments

i like to pretend
that he leaves those thoughts for me
may day gets brighter

And I reach for it
It is too far. I need just see
it glimmer from here

there is nothing real
such is the game of language
the beautiful lie

from rage to sadness
the real feelings emerge to
apply the said balm

you know it is said
that what we are born as does
affect (effect?) the future

freezes of the heart
iced blood shattered shards on floor
thawing into pools

christmas is coming
we want our stuff there on time
I'm going postal!!

Who was arguing?
It's good to know what we are,
and what we are not.

So boring aren't they
These arguments in haiku
No talent needed!

the good times are dead
night creeps slowly upon us
freezing our tear drops

back for more abuse
to my senses,to my ears
and I wear a smile.

I wear red shoes now
maybe it is something sweet
a sign would tell you

We are the true saints:
all who follow Jesus Christ,
not just those approved.

I can't write haikus
All their syllables and such
Flesh-eating inch worms

of course the mother
is the part of the father
and vicer verser

taps fingers impatiently
Mother Goddess? saints are an
interesting difference

the kids are born with
no sense of the constructions
of histories invented

the slight differences
of heresies waged war no
pontius pilate could wash