From the Left of Right.

I lasted from Sunday to Wednesday morning, then darkness held my hand.

It replaced the bad taste in my mouth with sweetness and that "bile" You are oh so fond of.

I am done trying to understand, I never could or can.

I will just write these poems and live a life not my own.

I want silence and momentary neurosis to relieve the pressure on my lower limbs.

In chalk I spell out the name of god backwards, before a mirror I realize.

It all becomes a mess at the correct times, in the meal times and fresh times.

Parent death friendliness carries the shovel so many places through.

Garbage drawer open but never correctly closed firmly, so keep the wasps at bay.

There is a tapping on my patio door, someone else is on the outside I was sure I wasn't alone.

Cherish my hugs in rewind because I have a bad memory by design.

I was once able to love myself by the simple moment of lost love and apparent happiness in some abstract embrace that never comes.

Music is my forever and godliness, I can only ideally see myself falling for this correct idealism.

I have yet to taste freedom though, for I am still in love with a demon.

But I am sure She understands and remains indifferent, which is how things are supposed to be anyway.

None and nothing, need not be is not happening.

Save me erase me, ignore me.

And to no ones surprise You are a slave.

Dru