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	Greg
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Greg, 16 grudnia 2022

Where Are You?

Why do you make me feel like this?
I’ve given you immense love, convulsive feels
And you let me down with the weight of a decisive hammer
Like Zeus raping the young nymphs
You steal my innocence, my joy, my trust
Which you found in the safest, darkest parts of me
Worked out with subtle, professional agitation
A child drawn to Buffalo Bill’s candy
To be fucking brutalized and ass-raped in a dingy van
In your fucking mind

You give me your candy and I’ll follow you babe
Two drops of sweetness and I’m all yours
Like a fucking pathetic dog getting kicked in the ribs
You tempt me with your sweetness
With your years long lies of reassurance
Forgoing joy after joy, Plato, Love
On an endlessly dying hope
A fish ripped open guts hanging from a rusty spear

Abandoned in the middle of the ocean
Slowly aging into pained renunciation
There’s really not much left for me to do but write out my pain
I’ve tried to love you
And I’ve tried to leave you
And in both cases I fall for your sweet words
For your power-hungry reassurance
“Look at what I can do, you fucking fool”
“If I can destroy you like this, imagine what I can do”

I’m your doll of emotional violence
An endless local of torturous vengeance
And gas-lit emotional neglect

You’ve turned me into a vague shadow of myself
A destitute renunciation of my power
What started as a joke has become all to real
All to deep
This sense that nobody loves me, that I’m alone
You’ve let down my trust for the last time…this hour
I’ll be back for more, whether I want to or not
The decision is undercut by malevolence

So have your knife to your heart
‘Cause that’s where I’ll be
Slice me like rotting meat
And go ahead love, just treat our love like you want to
I can’t even beg anymore
And I have nowhere to turn
For I gave her away too, for you
And you gave me away
As the basic structure of our love
A never-ending disappointment
A never-ending loss of safety, of trust, of the will to life, of love

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Greg, 27 maja 2014

Redemption

As death knocks at my front door
I cower behind a computer
Like six bits of shit and vermin
Recoiled by the slightest sting
You come about on the meadow
And send your ennui in to me
Like a deadly syringe
Of monotony and schedule
Of tone deaf laughter
And abominable taste
The lowest disgrace
Of exacted anguish
That relates myself to me
As your lovely face

In my premature ejaculatory phase
I writhed in the sheets of discomfort
And woke up to find the pain
More deeply than I could honor
So I turned unholy
And let the shadows eat my soul
As neurotic complexion
Devouring each and every morsel
Of child hood joy and golden light
Left inside this repugnant soul

I could redeem
But here I shall not

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Greg, 28 marca 2014

Eyes Run Dry: Kill the Pretense

I fancy myself the dissection principle
To dance in the moonlight of constipated love
Bring forth the moon to say hello
By its name
The Word calls forth
That which calls forth
Oh so poetic
In its call

Praise the flagstaff hero dance
The tragic expedition into lost romance
By gone, the passing chance
To make love in the moment
Is all over my pants
All over my pain
And regained and alone
The cycle it emerges
As hurtful lost sounds

Words that enframe
And castrate the meaning
Of poetic destruction
Of limited being

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Greg, 26 marca 2014

Despotic Confusion

At times things are said
And feeling are hurt
To touch the flower
And slightly pull it off course
To bloom towards the shade
Of a weeping willow tree

Grass leans softly to the left
And a violently convulsing ego
Is gently caught in outstretched hands of prayer
Tamed
And made silent
In the whispering wind
Of a hot summer night

Gallantly seething
As confusion sets in
To go forward or try to grab
Is the difference between
A reasoned descent into madness
And a glimmering ride into the depths of nothingness
Spat on the floor
And arrested by the sounds that call me
Over the hills
To ways of despotism

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Greg, 24 marca 2014

The Office

Carnivorously tearing into the raw flesh
The neurotic tick tock of fingers
Clashing sharply with the harmony of souls
To unload money from the grips of Being
Take the eagle child, and make massacred stew
To relinquish into destiny
The long forgotten history
Of spies that reside, foreign, in the sky
Bearing down upon
What was once home to us

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Greg, 24 marca 2014

The Rapture

Running like the rabbit
That opens up the door
For a reason to come running
Up from Mexico
The little hole
The gazing glory
Erupts like semen
Into the rotting carcass of highway life

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Greg, 24 marca 2014

Constipation: Truth

If I stop before the flow begins
The end marks a flower
To bloom sends life to death
So preparations are made
But the bed is laid to rest
Find the seed
Deep within the words
To keep a light hidden tight
Nothing is seen
But all is heard on edge
Today

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Greg, 23 marca 2014

Spit it Out

Gather together on the banks oh holy ones
Inspiration fades over time
As beauty is stretched to multiplicity

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Greg, 22 marca 2014

Apparition

An unsettling pain eases over me
As night comes rushing in
To ease the glory of bygone moments
And transcend the laughter of the little girl
To sweep through what?
All to such an end
To an end in itself
A mistaken crisis of identity
Rummaging lost
To be found
Vanish into thin air

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Greg, 20 marca 2014

It is What it Is Child

The solar eclipse is coming, young one
Write your story in a dirty little book
Tuck it away before the eye sees you
From the crescent halo of a forgotten night
Glimpse yourself to make yourself
And turn you into yourself
A bought off commodity for you to look at
That fractures in a cold night: candle light dance
Wax dripping, easing slowly to the table top
Cream fixated melancholy oozing across the floor
And the eyes that see you bring it into form
So you may be burned some more

Lonesome prodegy, all holy father
Command the graces of tormented souls