White Noise

White Noise

feel it

cutting across, leaving

red lines behind.

Counting them all one more time

I find I am just another cracked barricade

with the rust bleeding through-

the best of fault lines,

but no one else was at fault this time.

She tempted me with White Noise

made from overlapping thoughts

and unclear voices.

Why must I always be at war with myself?

My ears bleed from the sound

yet I break in it’s absence:

I, myself, am a contradiction

but

one could be driven sane from all the nothing

so

i gave it its own form of life

and

I sharpened her knives

and

I held on to the White Noise

and

I forget I once craved the silence I leave behind.

Hall of Mirrors

Hall of Mirrors,

on your instruction i must see inside myself

because that comes so easy.

Hall of Mirrors-

Amusement Park of Horrors:

Little versions of

what I should be

what I want to be me

what may actually be

and what isn’t,

dancing around in a sing-song ritual mocking of

standards set too high…and far too low.

In this

Hall of Mirrors

time is ticking by and all I see is what I’ve always seen,

except now there are persistent re-runs of all the me’s I’ve been-

Where is my promised epiphany?

A cynical smile leads to that dimpled smile..

I like that side of you.

Do you?

There’s the Speaking Hall of Mirrors.

A little too much,

a little not enough,

that’s not quite right

and so I’m left

poking and prodding

and wishing for wishes,

wishing for witches,

willing to give up my sense of common sense for-

smoke?

Smoke and

Halls of Mirrors?

Illusionists, it’s illusions

it’s not

real it’s myth

but it’s the only thing true to me…

It’s what I believe but i never want to see.

Beautiful.

Thrown back at me

a sneer and a plea.

Neither side will concede

till the the shards make me bleed

because they broke us both

in an attempt to help me heal.

Radio Silence

White Noise.
Static.
No feedback.
Manic.

Call to base,
call to self –
No Answer
Panic.

No falling
just crashing.
The Nightmare.
The Carnage.

Mr. Jekyll,
Mr. Hyde,
Final Battle.
Final Torment.

No voices.
No madness.
More sacrificies
in silence…

No recall
yet
of the drug-induced
defiance.

See-r,
Believer,
does the crystal ball
scare you?

Does the
blood
on your table
call forth an old taboo?

Sit,
wringing your hands
and calling out to –
who?

White Noise.
Static.
No Feedback.
Radio Silence

Rebirth

I wanted to aid in my own unraveling,

build again from the skin in.

Faithful to my faithlessness

I believe in my disbelief

yet

I’m a ticking time bomb with the time wrong –

I always fall behind.

With a heart made of barbed wire and bleeding rust,

I’ve grown to hate my fortress,

I’ve grown to loathe the things I loved.

But my body continues on

even as my mind is decaying.

I see faint life in curls of smoke,

the face of God in ashes wind blown

and i build myself a monument –

whispers of lucidity straying

into concert halls of madness.

In the end my feet hang off the ledge,

my eyes slide shut with the best of intentions,

and my hands hold fast where I swore not to venture.

One by one they come:

paying pennies for  thoughts,

then dollars for my silence.

And I mock their reverence

then break my bones in defiance.

I press the barbed wire close

as I take a new form,

from ashes and chains and silence

I am reborn.

yjis is literally evertyhin