Nicotine

At first,one more pull to push backthe demons tearing on the skinbetween my hair and skull,to pulse stars to my fingertips and electrify my creativity like the ashyorange end between my blood red lips.My vision blurs to twirling blackness,speckled with ash I flick awayto smokey sweet oblivion asghostish foggy fire flows into my lungs,and drowns …

and when they come-

Don't move.          Hands on throat, ripping hair,Resist, they’ll hit you harder-Lay still.     They want to hear your pain,Their pleasure is your suffering-Don’t scream.     Aching, stinging, throbbing,The writhing pain will dull-Lay still.     Monsters smell your fear,The blood will dry eventually-No tears.     A sigh, a turn, a twitch,The slightest move …

Ticking Crocodiles

Time’s a bird In dreamland: where Clouds obscure absurdity- Know nothing of the sour air, the Insipidity that is reality; Neverland, behind closed eyes, is closer, Green grass grows there, and I heard Clocks tick slower, even stop; Raunchy pirates flaunt their swords; Ostentatious fairies sprinkle wonder; Crocodiles chase the cowards Over, through, around your …

mania

On a high- unstoppable. Nothing- no person, no thought, no depressive state can dampen creative sparks or put a stopper in energy pulsing through electric veins. Clouds rise and fall short to compare with feeling and seeing in explosive pops of color. How can we not sing with a passion unrivaled to crisp cerulean skies; …