analog horrorshow.

the more I try to flesh out my creator the more I find myself estranged, there are times I am horrified but I hope against hope we are not really just a string of reality TV
               though I have proof we are always being watched, changing the channel requires another suit, another set, a change of patterned tie. How insatiable our audience.
            If you’re upset I swear you’ll wake up soon. Don’t let it win. I promise you’re going to remember everything. You’ll finally see yourself outside of yourself like a husk. Time is not fundamentally real.
               Goodbye for now.

/_> LM

my true hero is mononymous

You know,

if Yellowstone blew up
     tomorrow we’d be the next Pompeii
    it’s already rumbling underneath
       though it’s silent

dormant
   & our catastrophic angels
                  are consistently calculating
       loss prevention

            volcanic ash’d blacken the sky
      the most beautifully eerie sight
              as we turn to stone
         arduous in black and white

                true to life

–LM

the crime scene.

I got a sweet tooth
  and I can taste your blood sugar
    never knew stars could align
                                               this
                                               way
                                               once

            I’m waiting for flashing lights
                 & rebel music
                      to mark your entrance
        but I know you’re ecstatic in darkness
          palms out/fingers stretched
                  pulling smart strings
       like piano wire

                       and when they press
     choke the surrogate | leave the child
                     we were born
                                   before the sun

–LM

how demons are made.

TW: suicide mentioned

I am aware that I am doomed & out of order
      a misplaced|misnomer|disappointed
for all my efforts
    have taken me nowhere:

      I know what got me
               to this place.

 Picking fireflies off of the concrete
  bigger than I expected to be
     I feed the spiders you kill.

My lot was inherited. I think this is hell. I sleep in tiny increments. I am not guilty yet I was captured and released to fail. I don’t have the strength to be angry anymore. My creativity doubles as a death sentence, rest in peace assured these words are my investment. I wrote my name on God’s dotted line. When they find me they will not check for prints. They’ll label it suicide.

I know as long as I live
   I’ll never forget how much I hate it here

–LM

madly

Scientists are satisfied
   there’s INvisible barriers
     into space
    just not strong enough
      to keep love from love

    It makes me laugh
       for spite

–LM

love letter to Thanatos

I can sense your mission like the plague waiting to see if someone senses your apathy for what’s beyond

    I sense we are on same level even if the difficulty you chose is different
    We play the same simulation

     & now I can hear the scream of the crescendo
          dampened by wandering hands &
            mischievous eyes over the borders
         of your mark

   We speak the same language in the right tone/
     we sing along
         & when we reach the right lyric
        we ascend

–LM

the body bag on route 27

Sleep alone: you require the comfort of dreams, not me, in fact I think you’ll be just fine without/

      What good is lost
             without a map to civilization
      what is human but pavement
          where a brain can scatter like
              open jars of silky marbles all across
                the barely lit highway

         organs dry-abandoned alongside the carcass
               & in the milky eyes of the corpse
      Death reflects
                        its presence

                 for some, not soon enough

–LM

atlas.

pain has a desperate chime
   like sordid breathless rhyme
      or tedious monotonous time
     sucking breath like
           a forested Chinese sinkhole

      Is it because I’m sedentary
       barely anybody respects me
         who says they’re worthy, loose leaf?
           burying a sure – fire cancer

          & maybe being flattered is
         a relief on the pressure
             in my mental crumbling temple
       gold and jewels there wrought
                        aplenty

                 know, if I was you in your place
          right now, I’d fucking crumple, too

–LM

chaotic neutral.

I think too long before I speak. My diction is on parole & I yearn for eloquent & perfection is always near 2nd. I can’t help but strive to be [excellent] so do me the honor of pretending you can’t sense my judgment; play this game with me. I exude a poor act like an absence of confidence, my inner monologue is no fan of me either. The voice has disappeared.

Silently it tells me these bad dreams are abandoned children of an illness haunting my genes / I try not to buy in & believe. All those seductive lies are gone, too. They were pretty once. Meanwhile I’ll smile for the camera and twist your umbrella in bad weather. I want to fly away lodged somewhere between whore and Madonna. Peeking through blinders over the neighbors; never said a word. I guess I’m too like my father. We both have switches fatefully placed. Flip them at will.

Can’t bake without a recipe; I bring no pastry that isn’t laced. My heart races even when I rest and I assume around the corner a medical emergency awaits. My doctors assume death embraced or nothing is wrong since I never call… I couldn’t foot the bill either for good health or the marble-colored limousine through the gates of hell at my funeral.

I gave it all I got for certain.

–LM