Coming alive

And when I say


to my mother’s lies

a piece of me dies.

I cry always knowing why;

this is my life the Golden God on

ice-frozen cold just vice,

a drink of fire and strife.

Oh when I say-when I say goodbye

the world it closes in on me,

the lies the only thing I breath

sweet tragedy of what’s been done to me

a broken doll left with tattered dreams,

empty porcelain shell of what she ‘ought to be.

Goodbye, goodbye, sweet goodbye

just open up the seam kill the dolly hear

her scream.

Let it out, let it out,

what’s been done to me

discarded wretched thing a queen without

a king.

All the while-goodbye, goodbye

no more lies

the doll she’s broken, dying, coming alive.




Inside it’s dying that Snow White incarnate, it’s lying on the floor, crying

Oh God it’s writhing!

Red as an apple,

Blue as her cheeks,

Choking her out wouldn’t that be neat?

Bloody fist and broken skull vengeance sought might soon be won.

Undead princess zombie lead

Evil deeds repaid what’s been done to she;

play this game oh Lord it’s sick!

Ribbons soaked in envy, vomit, and spit.

Lacy dresses, nylon calve heaven, pretty dead girls in mommies best linen, drenched in her best cheap bought perfume.

A reminder of who she owes what too.

Strangle the killer; show that hateful bitch what she’s good for!

No, no, be the good girl.

Dead but still walking more time without breathing. Loose weight without eating.

Keep putting up with the beatings,

won’t let you go-misleading.

Gives you false hope-still bleeding.

Bred to be numb-just kneeling.

Keep in your place no speaking.

Ill-gotten child no weeping.

This is my right-hand I’m taking

whatever you got-dead weakling.

She ripped out her heart-still beating.

Rotting inside-still feeling.

Angry and numb.

Just kill me.


Becoming Queen

Bleeding rust and iron

the vomit of this flesh;

an exposure of insantiy

the lows and highs of

carnival distress,

lights that blind and

cotton candy that ties

those chains that keep her breathing.

Bleeding rust and mirrors

a reflection of what use to be;

a history of violence

lies, and pretty things.

Painting of the eyes a

war brewing underneath.

Take that razor, bloody knife

across that skin a kiss of


Snow on fire, midnight ice

my life on trail

under this artificial light.

Queen of iron

rust for a keeper

a history of violence dead princess beneath her

love can’t undo, not a simple thing,

pretty little lies

bleeding insanity.

This flesh it vomits psychosis galore

delusions unforgettable knocking

on the mirror door.

Bleeding rust and iron

Queen of dead things

a trail by fire and ice

that created royalty

of madness, of torture, of hidden sharp things.

The princess decomposed displayed at her feet

a single tear to remind that madness is their keeper

one dead, one dying, one living off the fever.

Queen of iron, Queen of dead things, the princess

becomes you, your flesh underneath.

(November 19 2015)


The ghost it haunts me but not outside
the fear it taunts me from the inside
every corner of flesh it hides, and every
moment it grows I die.
Nothing left but sorrow still
choking down another happy pill
I find myself a creature of torment
living in a glass house the devil feeds dormant
sleeping like a child peaceful and innocent
as the growing pain becomes quiet decadent
living in fear being haunted by a demon
the ghost that it brings only responds
if you mean it. Nothing to do
but keep with the living the ghost its inside and it
keeps on repeating
the lies that it holds forever misleading
so close to the truth you begin to believe, yet its fleeting.
No answers come when you call out instead
the voices scream louder inside your head
you’re falling, you’re dying, and you’re not quite fit for this bed.
The ghost that haunts me, living in flesh, the ghost that taunts me
never pays rent, for the space that it occupies and all that it uses
it takes and it takes, it uses and abuses.
The ghost that’s inside me, it eats me away, the flesh from my bones
it turned to decay. Here I lay dormant and afraid; the doormat, the replaceable,
the victim, and the saint.


Mina, Mina, broken doll you just can’t hear a damn thing at all,
you pretend you’re valiant, gallant, and true, but in the end my dear Mina
you are as thick as stew. The sad little truth is there is nothing but broth
thick muddy water with no substance at all.

Mina, Mina, pretend to be brave, you may be in the thick of another
grand mistake, but here are your pills and a razor as a sword.
attack to kill, the mirror can’t hurt you anymore.

Oh Mina, sweet Mina, you’ve fallen again your morphine can’t save you
when you let him in. Deciding to sell yourself for another dime bag
no Mina, oh Mina, you’ve done it again
laid down, spread eagle, you don’t care what filthy flesh you have next.

Oh Mina, sweet Mina, you were left by the one, the only man you ever loved
but you did him oh-so wrong. Mina, now you know you aren’t as brave as you thought,
but don’t listen to the truth, I’m sure you’ll have another shot!

Oh Mina, dear Mina, what have you done, thought yourself noble, so noble, but found
out that you were wrong. Don’t listen to the truth, don’t look into the magic mirror
for the hell that’s inside you never has to be real. Keep pretending, keep lying, keep sucking
down those pills for Mina, sweet Mina you’ve not enough strength to deal.
Keep fighting, keep playing at being the warrior oh Mina, sweet Mina you can’t hide it anymore.
For the one that you covet has found someone new; a raven mad woman with more substance
than stew.

Oh! Please Mina don’t compare too closely, oh Mina let’s not think of her as a trophy.
Her hair may be raven, her lips may be ruby, her skin may be porcelain, yes it might seem she’s a true beauty. Alas my dear Mina there is still some hope, take the pills and the razor, maybe some rope.

Oh Mina, dear Mina, don’t fall just quite yet, the raven mad woman has not begun to forget.
She’s watching, she’s stalking, she’s preying on flesh. Oh Mina, sweet Mina, don’t you ever forget.
This woman is crazed with only one thing in her sights, the feathered head Mina that doesn’t know wrong from right. Oh Mina here we have it, we’re in a corner now, Snow white’s found her huntsman lost in your clouds. She saved the one you covet with her seven little men, all atop horses reigning revelations on your head.

Mina, Mina, you poor broken thing Snow white’s got the better of you so it seems. You thought at one time that you could outwit her, but as you attempt you know you’re just growing bitter.
Wilhelmina, please remember your true station in life. Not a warrior, a woman or even a wife
just a sad little doll sitting on the shelf. A sad little trinket Snow keeps for herself,
Mina bloody Mina, can you not see you never were a princess just owned by the Queen.

Not Alice.

Alice, oh Alice, look at you now

fell down the rabbit hole trying to be profound.

Thought yourself a child, but grew into a hag,

old woman throwing bones the best bruja you’ve ever had?

The question is an odd one since you don’t comprehend,

You’re nothing more but manic shaking dust out of your pretty little head.

Don’t try to be a master this bruja has you matched, your nothing but a

caster, without anything to cast. No hook or line or sinker, just playing with

broken glass, oh Alice, old Alice, your mad, but not from sewing hats.

The rabbits never linger, and the queen barely even chants

your head is unimportant this pike can stand without your mass.

Don’t forget the Hatter, the tears, and all the flowers

you will not be missed dear imposter; Alice of the cowards.

The ladies are not waiting, and no swine will bring you back,

you lost your way again but there is no Cheshire cat.

No one really cares just how you get it back, the way was lost

on your accord

the door is shut forever more, you may be here in Wonderland,

but we don’t need you anymore.

Alice, oh Alice, you have been replaced by a new young lady

with a porcelain face. Don’t cry, don’t try, just let it go

for Alice, oh, Alice, it’s time for you to go back home


I am madness, you are hate
we stand together unashamed.
You are fury, and I am rage
we stand together as is our fate.
I mirror you, you do the same
showing the hearts true game.
You stood alone, calling me
I came home and now we’re free.
You are madness, I am hate
the rage that builds it brings no shame
for here I stand on bloody bones
the revenge I sought has now been sown.
You are fury, and I am rage
the games you started we finish in spades
for now we feast on crimson decay
the morning of bloodlust has not gone on in vain.
You mirror me, and I do the same
as though we were created from the same primordial clay
never at a loss for what the other may say
our lives are entangled and we like it that way.
I am your madness, you are my hate
I am your raven and you are my fate.

Into the black

This reality it screams to me
the paintings on the wall
they believe in me
and everything that’s shinning
is illuminating scenes where the darkness
cries but no one heeds.
No one saves the monster they are far to grotesque
and no one loves a martyr they just lay the soul to rest
and though there is but one parade to say hooray the day is saved
not a mind would think on it if nothing was given away.
Here we are again, the crazy girl within, she’s singing songs
and playing along to whatever dreams let live.
Here we are again it seems lost little willow chasing seams
the tattered remains of broken things
and everything she wanted to believe.
Standing still on top that hill her mountain crumbles forgotten Jill.
Standing still, that crazy girl itches for escape, but when
the world stops she gets kicked off never to be seen again
and this reality it screams to me
like a forgotten dream it seems
that every night before I wake I die in the black and can’t escape.
That crazy girl inside my head she’s screaming soundless
back to bed. The space outside the world it bends
the stars on fire they take my meds and no one knows
just where to go
and everything that sings it glows, and no one
has the time it shows
that crazy girl within is singing every note a silent
screaming, never ending just this day
just continues dreaming.

Mr. Rodriguez

There is no hope here, not in this wasteland of irritating consciousness, why should there be any hope left in me, for me, involving me! He raged clutching a thinning blue T-shirt someone else’s he is sure. Worthless waste of flesh, of resources, of breath. You are sucking all the oxygen up! You’ll leave none for a person of value you retched thing! The voices shouted louder now as his eyes began to bulge toward the artificial sun nothing left? He asked the only voice still a whimper. Pathetic! Only a fool would not recognize how unwarranted your existence is! He laid perfectly still starring up at the light the sterile room becoming stiff as all the air began to disappear with each inhale not real, not real, this-worthless, worthless, hopeless flesh-not real, not real, his breathing quickened and the room became smaller over and over he repeated while the angry voices shouted louder and louder.

The sound of slamming doors startled him eyes still bulging he was sitting up starring out at the world where frantic people pushed and pulled others from the closing doors grasp, but before he knew what was going on his own door shut. Must be time, must be time for it all to end, no hope is left, there is nothing here… he took a slow breath watching the thinning blue shirt rise. There was a smirk growing on his face as the shirt pulled away from his chest a newly born balloon, vivid, and wonderful. He watched as the balloon pushed through the sterile ceiling and artificial sun freedom.

Eyes still bulging he moved stiffly to the closet which crumbled to dust as he opened it. A single metal rod came into sight one that had been worn down for just this occasion. With ease he pulled the rod down one end dressed in a rubber mold the other jagged and singing. It’ll be okay. Its time. He felt a thousand eyes upon him the angry voices cooing now this is what is best, you are only killing people worthy of life. The suffering you bring will end there was no whimper only a calm nod he took the rod to his bed do it, do it now, do it, do it now, do it, do it now. Lifting his wrist he examined the skin a hardened brown that left a bitter taste in his mouth there is no hope, with bulging eyes he took the jagged side of the rod and placed it upon his detested skin the warmth that came welcome as his body began to sing he pulled down the length of his arm feeling for the first time ecstasy. More! The crowd demanded and as someone who loved to please he tried to grip the rod in the other hand but already it was weak. After attempting several times the bulging eyes began to water finish it! DO IT NOW! He dropped the rod the sound of it hitting the tile floor almost deafening in a rage he picked up the rod and with all of his strength-

“Mr. Rodri-“ with all of his strength he attempted to impale his chest missing and hitting his throat blood like bubbles scattered in the air his bulging eyes watching in euphoria as the crowd cheered freedom.

Tip for tazz

You fell to short and think you know me
didn’t quite figure out just how to hold me
and yet your sitting teary eyed
singing sad, horribly written lines.

You’re the guy who plays guitar
in the middle of the party
and everyone is drowning out the melody
with shots of Bacardi.
Sad little truth is that won’t stop it
you’ll keep playing trying to flaunt it,
but just like you the sound is tragic
you are just another white dude
playing vagrant.

And when you read this, I know you will,
you’ll call out bitch and think you’ll shoot to kill,
but honey that’s just where it ends you’ve never
had a spine so why pretend?

Playing the victim once again; crying to
the blonde, it’ll never mend.
that broken heart you carry around
the simple idea that you could hold on to clouds
it all just screams that stupid song,
you called it Goth Girl, but let me tell you its all wrong.

You’ve no idea what you are just a sad lost puppy
chasing stars.
Go back to dancing, high round the fire,
keep thinking that the Gods aspire your existence
for something grand. Yes, keep deluding yourself
it’s their divine master plan.
you fell short it’s simple and sweet
you’re the kind of man that lays at my feet
tell that blonde I broke your spirit, you tried it all
I just wouldn’t hear it,
keep singing your songs, and prancing along,
because one day soon all your luck will be gone.

Keep on crying, singing your songs,
because one day soon the dog eats the dog.

dedicated to M.H.II