(no subject)

I feel like haggard Nosferatu haunting the corridors of a gargling sandcastle
my alien lust and bent affection hanging from me, embarrassing stuff,
like entrails and dragging across your carpet during afternoon tea
smashed open everywhere except your damn films about me,
where my sharp fingertips outlined in shadow
scraping against the wall, quiver and bleed

"What craters play house to his form
like a natural habitat!!"
"An abominable inescapable demon... what spindling fingers
he screws towards our holes!!"

a bald brick of a thing falling and crumbling on you all.

(no subject)

Shakey body and of swinging levers how
out fingers point good belly whispering, oh
papa out I come, cries the contour, appendages
a black out of /from steady frame
Is there with out shape, a name
or meaning from whom these hang.

and how, if so, does it float
my head

(no subject)

It's lost, forever losing it's arm in the twist of things,
I want to step out, and out and out and out, 
I want closet hearts singing in the rain, but to my horror, they just do, 
again and again
every night.