gluttons of paranoia

The Piercing Bones Through Thin Skin



Cascading benevolence holding the mirror
To the endless infectious sunlight,
Renders the mental pictures as cognizant
Abnormalities of the immortal soul.

Intellectually famished, bloated and diseased,
Watch the satellites circling your elliptic head,
Greeting the papers with a gentle smile
Before the rain brings happiness as it once did before.

But that was so long ago, you tell the book,
Holding you against its spine,
Showing your insect repellent desire
A lesson in the breakdown of time.

‘Nothing can save you,’ he says,
But you know the truth is in the way one
Swims to dodge the falls, preparing
For the nightmare of the leviathan expanses of water.

Gardening blindfolded in a resilient area,
You find the weeds of your towering landslides
Joining in the game to destroy you,
Just a paranoid spot in the tunnels of existence.

Gargoyles of gluttony watch you
Dodge the cameras, as you are hearing the voices telling
You to get away from the tear-drop irony,
Of mass confusion.

intellectually famished

The Piercing Bones Through Thin Skin



Cascading benevolence holding the mirror
To the endless infectious sunlight,
Renders the mental pictures as cognizant
Abnormalities of the immortal soul.

Intellectually famished, bloated and diseased,
Watch the satellites circling your elliptic head,
Greeting the papers with a gentle smile
Before the rain brings happiness as it once did before.

But that was so long ago, you tell the book,
Holding you against its spine,
Showing your insect repellent desire
A lesson in the breakdown of time.

‘Nothing can save you,’ he says,
But you know the truth is in the way one
Swims to dodge the falls, preparing
For the nightmare of the leviathan expanses of water.

Gardening blindfolded in a resilient area,
You find the weeds of your towering landslides
Joining in the game to destroy you,
Just a paranoid spot in the tunnels of existence.

Gargoyles of gluttony watch you
Dodge the cameras, as you are hearing the voices telling
You to get away from the tear-drop irony,
Of mass confusion.

Francesco Goya, 'the madhouse.'

this is the greatest discovery of all time

Eye slits the blurred edge of a lash
Borders of a flattened world,
We fall off the edge.
Beyond floats a white-washed wall.
The truth lies inside the square atoms,
I worry about the stream plunging from the edge.
--Schizophrenic poet


The precipice of this disease pulls against the rationality of gravity,
As the sounds grow louder and the lights stronger, he becomes
Weaker in playful accusations that he was to never be the same again,
The sounds of the birds flying overhead were gears grinding,
And the conversations were always about him, equally as jarring
Against his frail mind, he chose seclusion as a defense---a way out.

The sun was evil,
The moon was surreal, bending with the foolish face,
Pressing on the oceans to pull him beneath to a watery death.

He wasn’t strong anymore, weak and frail as a dead snake, once
He had a purpose, a reality to evoke with a map he’d painted,
But there was no legend, and nothing to feed upon by his posterity,
Just silence and never being.

A walking corpse.