Within this hotel,
of devoured
minds.
I sit, alone,
ponder,
and
wonder.
Faces,
impassioned.
Hearing,
muffles,
moans,
cries.
This,
wasteland,
of
Humanity.
Sane,
as any, man
can be.
“Smoke Break!”
Patter of feet,
gleeful
echoes.
Endless ringing,
ringing, ringing-
babbling
goes
the phone.
Loved ones
reaching into the night,
Comforting,
lost,
confused, souls.
Who comforts,
the angels,
in
white?
Your eyes,
taunting me-
I wish to pluck them out,
devouring them.
as you have,
my soul.
Bronze skin,
I will peel away,
my spirit, devoured.
Bathe,
I will,
in dripping intestines-
you’ve bathed, in my tears.
Your breath,
I would steal,
You have my heart,
would it be wrong?
The wounds I bear,
no different-
truly,
than those.
Yet,
I
hear the gavel-
noose tightening,
engulfing me-
in darkness,
to the sound,
of your echoing,
laughter.
woke up today, a
blank canvas before me. Raised
my brush, painting tears.
Cold as the coldest breath-
you to me.
eyes,
twin orbs,
coal.
Hair,
brittle
dry
dust.
Skin-
peeling,
falling.
Maggots feast-
within.
Always
there.
Empty space,
still
empty.
Yet,
I rejoice,
celebrate and toast.
To you,
the dead.
I care not,
for your
peaceful slumber.
I sleep well.
You,
dead to me.
No mourning-
no
more
tears.
Pulling
the
plug-
I smile.
Four-Calendar Café 