Submissions by jaspersilence

There's a portal through the pinhole in my vein...
A portal through which I lose myself again...
Royalty waits on the other side...
My wings of wax can only fly so high...
Pushers parade,and march to silent drums...
Users can find a friend in anyone...
The king,the queen,the princess,and the prince...
They all shake your hand and greet you with a kiss...
A track star runs the mile up your arm...
In record time,he's gone,but leaves his mark...
Evil smiles spread like new disease...
It's never when you want to when you leave...
The trip home...

God and I are two tin cans,and miles,and miles of string.
Are we lines of energy created to figure out the most clever way to destroy ourselves?
For I am a perfect cliche of a silent self destructive...
Vibrate to the shade of grey...
Exposing dimensions of myself to the enemy...
Examining the blood under my fingernails...
We are becoming increasingly bored with the laughter...
Sickened by the subliminal rhythm...
We crave the blood,for our garden of violence...
OH!look how it grows.
The best Ideas come when the bottle is empty,
and we've forgotten...

Seconds before the witches reign
darkness at it's best.
Since sleep eludes,and mocks in vain
I need not ever rest.
Who is this outside my door,
as knuckles tap the glass?
So early in this silent morn
My patience never lasts.
I grab the handle,open fast,
to see who this might be.
On my step,and dressed in black,
a child stands before me.
With his head turned toward the ground
he speaks in monotone.
"My mother's worried where I am now,
may I use your phone?"
As I start to say"okay"
he slowly lifts his head....

I swallow reality and wait for the trip.
Comfort to cold,
and cold to oblivion...
The tiny comets of emotion
leave trails that form a masterpiece of definition...
Where I can move within the artwork...
though never become a part of it.
They'll find me in the words left
in the attic of where I last lived.
Scan the pages,and toss them in the box marked"to throw away.
"When they've cleared enough room for the next one to reside,
at least leave behind a piece of paper...
and something to write with.