Babble On.

In all truth you have lost your mind and no longer mean anything to me.
The I of because, fully loaded with tainted glows.
You are my reminder of 4 am and thoughts of the disenchantment that growls.
Feel free to change anything as you go along.
It means nothing just as much as you yourself are, bitch motherfucker.
Swollen to my warts, mimic myself in your own void called art.
If you read this backwards really fast I may just disapear, hopefully.
Lost among the labels of truth and decency.
You deserve less when I was willing to give so much more.
A whore, but no Babalon.

Dru

Stalker

I desire a new inflow of You.
Regardless if I need You or not.
Don't tell me what I need or anything about me.
You never knew me or needed me.
I was the beggar, in the dust with my chipped bowl.
I don't want to wake up or go back to sleep.
I am much too awake in the moment at the moment, and You are so far away.
Even if you where in my arms You would be light years away, cold and abandoned.
I love what I know naught, hate what I have yet to feel.
Stay away, demoniacal carcass.

 Dru

Moonchild of the Apocalypse

I used to have meaning, now I make it up as I go.
Rumbling thunder and drums beats into the void of nowhere.
Ugly sappy fuck illusions in front of broken shades.
All for things to be exposed and seen for what they truly are.
Just average everyday 9 to 5 with the onset of alcoholism.
The romance in this black magik has faded into used up greys.
Moonchild and Apocalypse promises for the real thing minus the end of the world.
I am wrapped up in tinfoil so subject to lighting strikes and general experimental therapy.
Sacrifice the mood of love and whip me till I bleed envy.
My loose teeth rattle in a skull no longer my own.
The chafing from the rope is beginning to get on our nerves.
What a dirty man was last days because, endless nights growing into vampire despair.
But this lust of the flesh is of a different kind, we end in the place we don't exist in.
My petty desire is the dot in the center, you are the circumference everywhere. 

Dru

Almost Totally

I'm growing blue opaque orient disgraced sunshine on velvet stockpile pieces.
Warmth of love light pouring down shades of off tone deaf musical scales.
Its so no way out underways that mean nothing to understand.
I will just begin to out weigh the condescending mimes movements in those places.
The meaning of I is lost in the discussion of us old bedsheets used to cover the broken down truck.
All things are now, karma is absolute and tomorrow is always now because.
Clenched teeth biting the barbed house wife wire flat roof catching a glimpse of heaven.
Sat in a downright compartment full of insulated belongings stolen from the factory.
Its just another cover up this dreaming in cycles that ferment chaos and desire.
All leading to nothing sorry canopies don't cover up the sores left from nights on our knees.
Pretend goldfish in a frozen pond crackers too soon let go of my escape convictions.
Welterweight always drowning in the cool warmth of midnight.
Loosing my soul by twilight's last finish to goodbyes selfish telephones cries.
Crucifixion is the only  redemption worthy of the name.
Vanity pushed hushing with echoes on sidewalks stomping maple leafs.
In a crisis wing bats flutter to one side to meet the medals strung.
Gold or metal refrigerator glue sticking close knit scarves against none another.

Dru

Parts and Pieces

We used to be in love.
Or at least I pretended we were.
Those moments I have played back like a useless mantra trying to make something that is not.
It is not cold enough, I will slowly decompose without You.
Its a maybe and it's forgotten.
There are flies in my throat and its all infected with the constant picking it receives by the likes of You.
I am overdone by not trying to find direction in all the wrong places.
Slowly going nowhere in the upper regions of Your body.
A shiver a sliver taken out on the edge of my heel.
Erase all of me, throw away all the pieces that could make sense.
Ignore the knocks on Your door at 3 in the morning, asking for some sugar.
I want to hold all the parts of You I am able to, the parts I understand.
I am left with zero, just a sterilized plastic bag with Your name on it.
We are outdone, though just for pretend once again.

Dru.

Steal This Poem.

I was going to write a letter of complaint to you.
With dramatic outbursts and all.
Then I realized I was blind from time immemorial  or at the very earliest this morning.
Waking as always by force, like experiencing trauma for the first time.
I am met with despair on every remembrance of you.
I try to forget but with each moment of  amnesia your face creeps through.
Like a stain fading into the fabric of my very self.
But now it has been cut into smaller pieces to make scarves for the children in winter time.
How a little part of me still guards against the cold.
But still around the neck as a hazard to anyone unaware.
Not that I am trying to be overly dramatic or anything other than myself in moments such as these.
No I don't believe in god, nor do I believe in you for that matter either.
You are a created astral suffocation to the point of asphyxiation, leaning on the brink of nowhere and in-between.
So please forgive me for my honest hypocrisy and take a bath if it makes you feel dirty.
I know your standards are higher than mine.
Just don't loose sight of yourself from so high a pedestal.


Dru

A View From the Back

I want to be remembered as the first person you wanted to forget.

With no regrets but with plenty of missteps and burdens from childhood.

How could I make it easy on you and give you un-imagination.

I am the devil and you are his child, soon to be led among the cowards of men.

I want to disappear only to turn up a month later face down in some obscure ditch.
All bloated and shit, picked away at by small animals.
I am growing insensitive to the human condition.
Formally just plain known, now just unknown unsaved.
It is a storm a trick a betrayal of long worked for trust.
So I just drink it all down, sweet tasty despair.
A view from the back row, everyone is dressed so nicely.
We are all losing ourselves over another form of government.
God in man and man in god, and I have lost faith in both.

Dru

Letter of Resignation.

My hair is growing long.
Haven't been able to straighten it for weeks.
A non-owner of a comb.
Blind gods cackle and crow at the call to prayer.
Red dusk moon, seen just over the Hill Cumorah.
Rise to worship at the end of the era.
2012 greets you anew.
I pray and prey upon new fresh tunes.
Committed to revealing and reveling the shortness of breath.
I dream of the Serengeti forever flowering in the wake of the mysterium twilight.
Swallow the poison with all of them, no matter what they believe.
All images subject to change, but we all expect an explanation.
My letter of resignation is posted on your wall.
But I am still feeling reserved.

Dru

Apparent

Sadness and madness with a full blast of everlasting polarity in between.
This rhyme is not my own, saved from the last over arching head master.
I won't ever plan on being around when you need me the most.
Left to work out your own favorite past times in full view of the coming apocalypse.
Say my last name only to bring me to the front again.
I am only posing as a faint memory on groggy mornings after a night of drinking.
I can no longer remember all the poetry I pretended to write.
There are too many I's in this blank expression.
Even my mirrors are shocked by the blatant disregard for aesthetic appeal.
There's a ring around Saturn that reflects back all our faults and erotic wet dreams.
I am only catching up to make up.
In this senseless abandoned all we reach for is smoke.
Bad days dark moon and sun bathing formalities.
I just clean my room and slip from the crowd.
We are trapped with no sense of out or exit.
All buried deep in the banks of the river Babylon.

Dru

Shell.

There is a plain.
And a cowl and a sound that always stays the same.
Its not too late.
To change.
In the speck of heck and doom.
Glorious humble shining sky.
You make me want to inspect and forget myself as nothing.
The shade of the appeal is no longer fascinating.
Real life has taken over, gritty and dirty to the hands.
Lonely appearance to the ones with no eyes for themselves.
Hidden in a dream that no one sleeps with.
I am not happy, misery bleeds through my white suit.
Each moment away from You.
But I am a coward.
Scared of my own fulfillment and liberation.

Dru