long division with a remainder

Do you ever

question wat becomes

of our energy upon autopsy?

the pure horror show 
of it all
cold body slit open

organs removed individually

weighed then put back

now jus useless tissue
without the soul
body is merely a cadaver
headed for spoilage
when the light dims
then not fades away

When they introduce

that first scapel slit upon

our refrigerated skin,

do you imagine the

overhead lightings of

the morgue flicker

or blink or tingle jus

a speck of a second

as our ions are

set free from mortal coil?

the static charges on

strange electronic pulsation

made of human radiation

barely a blip noted

on the meter, jus

like our lives were

and will be

Consummate~Consecrate

Under an ice blue moon

with no shadow cast

We walk backwards

slow steady secure

towards a hole in the earth

we summoned but

never predicted

Speaking in tongues

of long dead language

and long lost lovers

their graves already dug

not yet filled

and will not be

til we add our sweetest 

of bloods

the one that pumps

so deep red it's

almost blackened

Only thru acts of

the greatest sacrifice-

that of our wants and needs

the sum total of ourselves

Can we ensure compliance

the hole made whole

as truth runs thru arteries

down a razor kissed wrist?

and out of our selfish bodies

into a passion pit teeming

with ghosts of a 

former existence

it's the way things must be

expectations equal letdown

so we perform rituals

that represent the pure desperation of desire

It hurts to love

more than any break or wound

we could possibly endure

but this slicing ensures

our devotion is known

We bleed for the ones

who dont want to stitch us

We die for them

when they can not

live for us

calling upon forces

pleading with magic

emptying our circulation

to fill up our hearts

with one last lost phrase

uttered in unison

cherished items tossed

in bonfire

we call upon the Old Ones

to spark this magic

extoll our slighted

and return to the soil

the love of our lives

Vania Friends

Babydoll loves the

taste of thc and

the feel of fetynal

lately I've been too up

riding that crazy train

1st stop all the way

to the end

remaining on the rails

has proved a test

I can't share my heart

nor head with

someone being like this

so babydoll suffers from

my selfish mode

of living

tho I dunno if you can

truly call if that

it's more like barely existing

very poorly coping

staying awake to forget

staying away to recall

any last vestige

of actually relating to

others in this so
called society

daunting task since

now I'm one of

the McDonald's people,

aimless sitting and ordering 

$1 items to continue 

sitting aimless

talk to none by choice

hours spent alone

with having no true home

I'm jus like wherever I may roam

following the feeling reeling

inside my bones but

my answer is no closer

and I've grown tired

so tired

of wandering the same 6 miles

killing all my time 

in anxiety wasteland
and boring myself

to living dead

the fun house massacre

The dirtiest shape I

ever saw my hands in

was the time when I

pulled them from your sternum

Intestines dripping,

my love is lifting

feel of your last breath

As those lungs cease existing

I could almost cry

at this gorgeous sight

white cells and plasma

pooling your head

in miasma

halo of splatter making

the sacrifice matter

less obvious but harder

than head on a platter

life's little martyr

enticingly sadder

I know it's time to

begin clean up but

I feel stuck in the beauty

of how your pretty dying

makes you my executie

All damn day seems

I could watch your

blood streams and recall

all the screams. Sounds

of undone serene home

invasion scenes

and for tonight at least

you have been my queen

a quench for a deep thirst

satiated by skin bursts

as my precious implement

did its very worst

thank you again

participant even if unwilling

you have not died in vain

you died by random killing

Cuz even tho now we

are closer than family

jus an hour ago

you didn't even exist to me

Barber Crampton / head West

Cut off the head

and the body will writhe

after death skill I

learned in my life

decapitated placement

between such living thighs

and a shinier blue bestow

her eyes

a needful of serum

to the cerebellum is

jus a tasty touch

a party favor merely

toxins alone is

never enough

I gave life to

the clinical dead

earning my wings

on the sights of

my head

Betrothed to the science

and less the emotion

a snapped spine is fine

if you keep it in motion

laying supine upon

the table an examination

will demand sensation

only if capable...

💀💉🔓

...to truly figure out

a synthesized god-like ability

you hafta expect bumps

hiccups and hang-ups

and no one wants to give

any time up, tied up

is jus part of the scientific

method we are forced

to employ

My work is so close

to desired result a.k.a

Perfection

all the failures

and unintended side effects

worth it... if I can work

undisturbed, I can work wonders

neon green glowing immortality

instead I'm the bad guy

for coming off singular,

methodical, and

obsessionally psychotic

for having a purpose, nay,

destiny to fulfill

and events may transpire

people might react poorly

my research ongoing

pieces of tissue crawling

violent impulsive attacks

can all be handled as needed

but we are so close

we will be heroes

jus for one day-

Will you please shut up and

help me kill this

reanimated corpse

and bury it out back

I have too much work to do

... and I can't be disturbed

Dead Wait

We drag the corpses

they attached us to

bloated with grease

thru broken streets

and boiling seas

Waiting for the calendar

to catch up to us

so they may pronounce

an official cause and time

of death, despite

the fact that we

were long since deceased

birth is an ending

to former lives

dying is not optional,

dying young is

We could save ourselves

so much ache and pain

we could cleanse the

palate of this distaste

the flavor of failing

haunts every bite I take

I am never full due

to my inability to finish

a full meal

choking would be preferable

to swallowing poisonous

rupturing rapture

then maybe my clock

could tock the glorious

moment where demise prevails

and finally

finally I can stop dragging

bones and dead weight

burdened no longer now that

timeline is voided and

I happily shake hands with 

the Grim Reaper

It' Alive... It... It Follows

I float like
a ghost
parasite with no host
self disposed
death imposed
riddled with thoughts
keeping my mind
closed
all the "I knows"
got me "this blows"
cuz I made me bad
when I chose
overflows of disgust
chronicles of ridiculous
a damned dam
about to bust
water seeping turns to rust
Caution walking-
ground is dangerous
it was explained
to us
Love is chemical
now I Lust
made a negative
out of plus
like it was jus
a lil buzz
so why so serious?