Helltone You

Hold promises like fragile new born infants, support the head- the thoughtbox/ that which people may see/ seize up in aftermath/ figure monthly expenses and sense/ strangle strange feeling like being felt up, slowed down, and then crunching down on ridilan tabs/ Hold on to the door, do not let it swing shut, bar it locked if the apathetic start to give a fuck/ fuckless givers/ fruitless tress in these groves/ grooveless souls in these holes/ we dug to the bedrock, splintered the shovels to steel shavings/ no more treasured thoughts hidden/ you are a liarboy, a wolfcry toy, a cyanide fiend/ you mumbled pretend love under the covers when you were after of the lightning crack outside/ or gunshots/

Helltone you, concealer

These muscles in my back hurt-/ the ones I strained when I carried you from the site of the accident/ the slip of your sloppy tongue/ you knew the consequence/ and sequence of events that would follow/ the threatened your goodtime laugh track with weapons that would hollow out your rib cage/ but judging by the ones you fucked you never had much heart to start with/ cocked channel changers for audiences with my straight talk that ended in anger/ hymn slipped into the afterdinner drink/ you tried to poison our zygote/ I’ll rip the confidence you thought you had in your backtalk from your fuckin throat/ blood choke/ kids clown call you pavement face since I dropped you off the top for a greater gain/ and you still call in the night, hoping I can save the day

Helltone you, concealer

Ghastly shadows haunt your walls/ there are bodies in your closet/ cum yet to be relieved from our fuck notions/ you claim my glasses are camouflage/ you tits taste like salt/ I can’t jonny cash your last chin check in this all black ensemble/ you scoffed at my interpretations of Sartre/ pardon my honor and my narcissism/ pardon the way I took my scissors to the nape of your neck when I found out you were with him/ fig tree, mustard seed- you have neither growing in this garden/ the way you managed your water supply has left the pregrowth starving/ you fiend my ignorance/ you killed yourself before, I saw you walk from the window/ and the red tip of a laser sight catch the corner of your skull