Forged in fire
his tainted smile
carved by deft hands of deceit.
Along this narrow passage
the walls fold in.
He lurks at the end
But a blank face
But a pair of hunched shoulders.
We know of his
cold,
dead,
eyes.
We feel his pull
like burning chains
lodged under our ribs,
reminding us of our fragility
as we break
like a dying tree.
Flaked away has our innocence
for right before our bloodshot irises
are the twisted, tarnished roots of the thorns
that seek to uproot us,
snake around our ankles,
and rub our flesh to raw crimson
as they drag us into their jaws of crushing teeth.
A flood of acid,
eating at our spines,
warping our faces
beyond the point of recognition.
And then they break us.

People talk about Tornado Alley,

The part of the U.S where I live.
They act like tornadoes touch down every week in May through October,
Like storms go through every other week.
Like everyone’s not scared and they’re always calm.

The truth is,
Tornado Alley’s not like that.

Tornado Alley is worrying
When a tornado touches down only five miles from your house,
Your family’s in the basement,
Wondering if everything’s all right,
And if your house will be damaged.

Tornado Alley is praying a storm will pass,
The ever-looming threat of a supercell,
Swirling clouds above your roof,
The sky a nasty green and purple.

Tornado Alley is taking everything you have for granted,
Then being scared when it’s threatened.

Tornado Alley is knowing tornadoes exist,
But being thankful that you’re not in San Francisco,
Or Hawaii, Florida, the coasts.

Tornado Alley is flat plains and wide open spaces,
Not being afraid of a storm,
But of what lurks when the beginning is over.

Rivers of people
crowded the alleys of my mind.
Every thought of mine
had to go through them.
And they were relentless.
By the time it made through them,
it was not the same.
That beautiful new born thought
had turned into a old stranger.
I learned one thing
that I can never have a thought
or an action
that is truly my own.
And even when the building and the skies
of my mind decay,
the people in those alleys will live on.

Hioheprenazine dreams
In sight of crispy creams
Computerized cognitive testing
I found her body arresting

The women wanted Jean Beliveau to buy them
Firm white peaches - so he fried them
Yonder girl bit in with a left arm left useless
All taxation claims hence were baseless

I recall pineapple scented gin was popular
Like the movies of Francis Ford Coppola
Raining over south Napa Valley
Into the arms of Kirstie Alley.

a winding pathway
leads to where i dare not roam
still i venture on

Trip once.
Trip twice.
Trip thrice.
But I,
Will fight!
Beat off
The blight!
With all
Your Might!

Dim lights
Deep voices
Darkness all around
Faces floating
Floor shaking
Heart shattering to the ground
No control
All alone
Left with no one there
Danger coming
People shoving
Left lifeless with none to hear

I sit and stare
Wondering why
You left this mark on me
I have to breathe
See my steam
You need to leave my body
I drop down
To the ground
Far from time and saving
Temperature rises
Heartbeat slows
To a line of nothing more

I finally stopped playing the role of Kingpin when i jumped out of the bowling alley
Saying hi to all the Sallys
Because they all think i'm pretty nice
Yeah i'm alright
I'm just trying to make this life right
Keeping my moral rope tight
So i don't get too loose
On the grip
Many people let it go a few times in their life
I'm trying to make sure i don't