i remember [UNFINISHED POEM]

1/14/2008 at 7:42 PM

For Rin...


i remember when i was small
not alot of memories
the concrete and the downward fall
everything to hide but no need for keys
i can still see the flashing lights
i can still hear the nonsensical fights

i remember when i was eight
a cage with out walls and the cold
couldnt tell early from late
only thing to breathe was the mold
and i can still see the cracked lies
and i can still feel the dilated eyes

i remember back then
they said they found me to make it better
big burly scary loud men
some stamped papers and a letter
they had cuffs and sirens and guns
they were loud and terrifying i would've rather been saved by no one

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repulse my memory [POEM]

1/14/2008 at 7:40 PM

they locked up a criminal
shut him in a box with his thoughts
the messages were hardly subliminal
they watch as he rots
its a challenge they scream
survive or die, leave or die in a bad dream

its a nightmare
not worth the scare
run faster and your lungs will tear
stop running and you'll never make it out

there was the toxic rush
so many delicate lines to push
where the rising urges
turned into homicidal surges
how come i dont care
they said i wouldnt dare
baby tell me good bye
i cant say no and i cant come out alive

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Chilled [STORY]

1/14/2008 at 7:38 PM

I might continue it.
Warning: This story is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for those under the age of 18.


Sitting on that street corner was the last place I wanted to be, and it was also one of my dreams.

I had wanted to be free. And now I was. The hacking cough, the coppery taste in my mouth and the aches in my body. I had actually dreamed of it, had run from cops and had dodged out on the only people who'd liked me.

The wind was biting, and I shifted, leaning againt Ricky, another rent boy, the one I roomed with. We'd both run away to be free, and had both ended up on this dank, freezing corner. His skin was cold, but about six degress less frozen than the air that bit at my pale skin.

I coughed, leaning away from him, wiping at the blood tiredly. It was late, most clients were alreadyheading home, and it had been an uncomfortably long night, and we were both tired, cold and sick.

Unfortunately our boss did not give a shit. As long as we brought in reasonable money, he let us stay in this dank loft apartment, with the occasional other, ah, 'co-worker' dropping by to live there until they realized their lives sucked and beat it.

We would never beat it though, because believe it or not being abused by strangers who just need to get off is a helluva lot better than being abused by sadistic parents who just don't care...

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crimson staining [POEM]

1/14/2008 at 7:38 PM

shes small on the big bed
she takes up no room at all
the hairs all scraggly like a halo round her head
we know we're dying, soon to be dead
but the pains a little much
and denials our last crutch

when she died
she stole the my last kin
when i cried
i commited my own sin
and when i lied
it was about my chopped up skin

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