Fearsome

Scarier than darkness
more terrifying than light
the monsters and the demons
cannot win this fight
something more horrific than
the nightmares in your head
leading you too peril
and your deepest dread.
This chapter never ends
it’s scarier than all
all your wicked deeds
even those you’ve forgotten
lost down beneath your knees
yes, it’s scarier than all
each and one between
this monster isn’t something
you would like to meet
it is not just one
it is one of many
several dozen tons
it’s flesh not worth its pennies,
scarier than blood
and suicidal tendencies
scarier than all
all your deepest fantasies.
This is not of one
this is one of many
an enemy unnamed
throughout our longest histories
evil is in all and in every
rest of us.
You are not above
just a nightmare in the wealth and luck.

Butterflies

We all want to be
beautiful and sad
tragic little butterflies
driven quite mad.

Flying cross the boulevard
floating like a dream
desperate imitations
of what we cannot be.

Everybody wants to be a superstar
show the world how special
that they really are
everybody wants to be
beautiful and sad
depression and anxiety
the best accessory ever had.

We all want to be
beautiful and sad
tragic little butterflies
driven quite mad.

Everybody wants to be
Lana Del or Halsey
all the pretty stories but know
nothing of true suffering.

Everybody wants to be someone else
we all pretend we’re butterflies
while killing ourselves.

Translation

Tell me more about me
how do you define me
can you see what I see
or do you oppress me?
Looking in the mirror
vision getting clearer
as you keep reminding
my mind sees what I see.
I will not be labeled
defined by your time table
you’re views are regressive
though I demand acceptance
of my mirrors inefficient
vision of my eyes rendition
my minds overall revision
of this bodies unabridged edition.

I still got you

Never say I didn’t tell you so
everything little thing
that you wanted to know
every last mistake
you never wanted to grow
but you can’t fucking say
I never told you so.
Come to me like I’m your therapist
then you can’t recall the time
that I put in-all my wages paid
in past percents
everything I got was gone by then.
Never, ever tell me I didn’t
tell you so
I saw all your mistakes before
you hit the road
speak my mind, but speaking gets old
when no ones listening
and speaking gets you in trouble
when the truths in sync
no one ever wants a friend
who goes that deep
so now I’m just a ghost
you forget about me
but never, ever, forget just one thing
I know of all your demons and fucked up deeds.

Britney Anne ‘Barbie’ Whittleson

“She can be so sweet and loving…” her voice trailed off as she peered out the half open door. In the waiting room bathed in the orange glow of afternoon light sits their little Barbie playing and giggling gleefully.
Her husband grips her hand continuing softly “other times it’s like she’s possessed. Like a demon takes hold of her-those big blue eyes go cold and-and it’s like it’s li-”
“She doesn’t care, or love, or feel a thing” her voice cracks as she tries to keep quiet least her little lamb overhears. This is too much for the farmer and his wife.
“Well, have you ever asked her? Children are often full of insight into what they need and want, you just have to listen.”
“Yes ma’am we have.” He admits shifting uncomfortably in his overalls, but he paid a pretty penny to see this head doctor and this man is not in the field of wasting money.
“And what did she say?” The therapist smiles peering out at her soon to be client overjoyed to offer her ear to another misunderstood child.
“She don’t care about anyone or anything-in fact she says… she says she only likes my wife cuz little girls need mommies.” His voice is tired he never thought it’d be like this-wait your entire life to be blessed with a child for this.
The therapist is smirking still watching little Barbie with her two blonde pigtails bathed in warm orange light thinking the parents didn’t listen. “Well Mr. Whittleson I can assure you you’re child loves yo-”
A shrill cackle interrupts her as the trio look out the office door. Britney still bathed in the afternoon glow violently pounds a red plastic brick into the dolly’s skull. Her eyes dark and focused when she turns to the adults “Dolly got boring” her voice monotone and lifeless.

Take it in

Breaking, shaking
I’m alone
when the world starts
to unfold
this is heartache evermore
broken, shattered
on the floor
we once witnessed this before
mind at once and then it’s gone
feel the world from getting on
broken mirrors
mind forgot
she keeps breathing
on and on.

In plain sight

Wolf in sheep’s clothing
leading the lowly
taking right over your home
but you know no better
you just have to weather
the violence in their holy tome
if you reject it
or speak of its message
we will take more than your skull.
Allah and his text
pure love and progress
though we ignore it’s anthem-
Muslim’s can lie to the unwise outsiders
they can blamelessly murder you.
Christians are told that
man’s law comes first and
if you do break it
you then must take it
the lashes meant solely for you.
Islam it teaches
to turn nonbelievers
to take over where they make home.
Follow Sharia
no matter the heathens
your home is your faith and your law.
Islam it teaches
to respect no outsider
so you just pretend
that they are not liars
if they do love us
you’ll never know unless
they choose to protect
their new home.

Fractured ware

We all sit under sheer
blessed minds
we hold so dear
closest still but closer near-
we fall under,
we appear,
she is whole
but we still peer
under lashes
we keep clear
she won’t know unless
we cheer
her words come
and we bleed air
we control the lips
and stares
she is us
of this we swear
she’s not split
just fractured ware.

Radio

“Who are they?” she paces the butt of her cigarette glowing in the black “where did they come from?” her heels click, click, clack. The little red light moving up and down rapidly, puff, puff, puff “find out where they come from.”
“I don’t appreciate demands Mrs. Owens. Just the opposite in fact I rather feel the way about them that I do about late night visitors.” My back is turned to her as I sit at my desk watching the reflection of her cigarette glow dance.
A long drag “where else do I have to go?” the smoke lights the black with its sensual curves. “This is bad. This is real bad!” heel stamp “it’s a nightmare that no one will wake up from!”
She’s right. One thing about this bitch she can read the writing on the wall “how’s this my concern?”
Laughing she ask “you think you’re above this shit? We’re headed back to the Dark ages honey and when the walls come crumbling down you’re just as likely to be beneath them.”
“That may be so Mrs. Owens, but it can also be said it makes for damn good radio.” Her cigarette goes out-times up. She’s gathering her things in a huff knowing the rules all too well.
“Goodnight sug-”
“I’ll be in touch, Mrs Owens.”
She’s out the door and the on air signal flicks on.

The getaway

Wind blowing from the open side of the building we find The Grey, black hair floating, black lips framing a wild grin as she pulls a new toy. Double doors open click “BURN IT ALL DOWN!” The sound of the flame thrower obscures the wail, but the stream connects with the remaining heads. Cassi keeps moving, flame on, everything that catches it-blazing. Everyone who thought they’d live-dead. Our combat boot, camo pant hottie burst into the stair well walking down a trail of fleeing bodies, everyone went boom, and then no one could breathe. She’s grinning black lips safely encased protected from any residual gases. The flame still bright she maneuvered skillfully down, down, down to the basement where worried eerie silence meets her. Nothing could be heard but the sounds of her boots and torch-it’s too be expected but still a surprise. Puffing away on her stogie she makes a swift move to her hidden weapon.

“Let’s ride baby! Let’s ride!” She laughs wildly hopping into the drivers seat of a modified armored war truck. “Didn’t think I’d get this far” she muses corners of her lips twitching.
Running black nails over the control panel feeling that blood lust boil. Engine on, one hand gripping wheel, other hand flicking the blades on, one boot slamming to ground, and her beast barrels forward.

Breaking through the basement walls Cassi’s war machine meets sunlight as tires meet sky, the angle of exit sending them airborne. As she watches blue sky turn to city scape turn to city streets Cassi grinds boot to pedal. The war truck’s wheels unfortunately-or fortunately depending on who you ask-burn out over police bodies, cars and at least two faces.
“Catch me motherfuckers! Catch me!” She bellows like a demon slamming thumb into red button one. Heat sinking missiles launch from the trucks bed, even Impacts air patrol suffers casualties as the grey burns down the Marina Districts main street.