Inner City Trash

All along in the end the story was done.
The days went by one at a time slow and mellow
at fault. We welcomed each other into our lives
together, we ventured to and from close and a far.
Never to cross paths with the reality of fact,
your eyes sparkled with a slight glimmer of hope.
An eye catching a ray like cancerous ventricle's
streaming through my veins with carbon monoxide.
Pulling all the life from me. A hush is put upon
what was done, not a hint, not a word, full of
laughter the halls fill and over flow, the sheets imploding with stains.

In the night we seek terrors or phantoms and ghosts
of millions of spirit's the days and nights of
haunting on the ground we step upon. The shadows
follow us he walks through the corridors drenched
in his own lies, taped to the truth he can't escape
me, spinal cord releasing stress into blood curdling screams. He floats down The river into the channel no hopes or dreams left to surface from this, he will
have no tomorrow and no day light to view. The war
is between the lines now nothing left to say. Men
are shallow, vain, sneaky, greed ridden assholes,
the scum you walk upon that also kiss on the lips
of angels those sparkling pair of eyes in front of
you, yes, that is him. Don't trust him, don't
believe him, he speaks of no truth just covered
up lies hidden beneath pretty eyes and faces, he
fixes his hair, mists himself with his choice of
fragrance of the day, in your eyes he might be
amazing but he knows what he wants and it's not
you, or your heart, it's your blood. A lonely silly
girl with a heart, since when did that matter?

Eating away at the ropes strung around the wrists
of the forgotten children, cage to cage we compare
bone with blood the solidity of one, the density of another make a flat line across the monitor. I'm
trapped within those days of lost appreciation
amongst the clouds a slight inclination of whatever.
It's in our blood to do what we have performed
it's our sins, and our lives we are condemning to
the God's. The infa-red dye burning on the pages
of our tattered scriptures. It's burning my eyes.
Become what you hate it's the right thing to do.
Love what is this we speak of? A game we play
amongst ourselves betrothed in our own depth of
self loathing and obsession, another playing the
same cards that we play with ourselves. So all in
all we are face fucking ourselves over into
thinking that another piece of flesh blood as whom?
We eat our own destiny through tiny force feeding
tubes, breaking jaws and returning to the grave
with teeth in hand.