My soul sits on a throne of coal
Bleached bones litter the hole dug around my kingdom
Jesters with razorblade smiles dance around me
Each with a nametag on their breast
Each bare the name of a past love
On the walls are crosses
Each one a burden I must bare
A couple still have bodies on them
I call these my friends
There is a crack in the ceiling
That leaks whenever it rains
The crack is right above my throne
And the water drips upon my head
Thumping
The water persisting
The thoughts existing
The smile a memory
And the reality a lie
When will I die?
My death a prolonged joke
And I am left hanging
From the noose that is the punch line
Thumping
MY GOD, MAKE IT STOP
There is a puddle at my feet
Crimson reflections stare up at me
Dripping
My wrist draining
Blood spraying
Life waning
Death gaining
My friends on the crosses say
That I’ve betrayed
Say that I've lost the ability to care
I order the jesters to sow their mouths shut
Dripping
Thumping
Which will stop first?
Both a metaphor
Life's constant annoyances
Death's bitter truth
Both intertwining for the briefest moment
13, 13, 13
Lives are changed when people die
13 - Blackbird flies never fucking more
Evermore
Relapse
Cutting ... room floor
No alcohol in the world can make me feel sane again
Broken bottles share a resemblance to my insides
Jagged, sharp and shiny
Bits of liquid rolling off of the tips
Crimson reflections getting murkier
Countdown
3, 2, 1
13
Will my life flash before my eyes?
Have I even lived a life worth flashing?
Will I ever?
When I die, will God himself criticize me-
for my shitty fucking existence?
Even though we are all simply pawns
In this game of life created for the soul purpose-
of his amusement?
Love smells like sulfur
When you take away the sweat and the cum-
all that's really left is the blood and the tears
Ramblings, ramble on
My stairway to Heaven is paved in bling
So when everything else is long gone
At least they'll say that this bastard had style
Countdown
The pulse loves too
Never figured it until the clock fell through
Ticking, ticking
13, 3, 2, 1
Dripping drip
It doesn’t hurt
… Physically




(new short story coming soon)

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