A Wreck, a Drunkard, an Angel, a Prism

They crash in
Each situation,
Uninvited,
To everything.

... Gave me
A prescription,
And
Persecute
My abuse,
Of an inanimate
Thing.

When I
Rectify
The accident,
That a gun
Is in the
Car
With them,
My appropriation
Of the newly-discovered
Negative,
Caffeine,
Will leave
Them,
Passed out,
In their car,
While
Police peel their
Fingers
Off the prints
To their recognition.

The pet store's
Cage-window,
Is broken
Open,
Maybe an angel
Was the owner,
But now,
The lights are on,
And their face
Shows derision,
From the holiest
Of gods,
Play authority
As a fool!

The concept is
Negation,
Numbers,
You cannot cheat
Equation,
Only answers,
Live like a dying
Hospital patient,
Sharing your room
With someone
Who really is one,
And,
Can be sensible,
Some pride to show
For their injuries...

But,
You will not
Rise up
At me,
With that gun.

Humilified, You Wait For Me

There are two
Ways to look at
This,
As there is
to everything,
The pessimistic,
And optimistic,
I equate to meaning,
The black market--for pessimist,
And,
Free market--for optimist,
Negative and positive,
Scientifically speaking:

You want me,
So that you are depressed
Over this fact,
Or,
You do not
want me,
Causing a mania to you,
Bringing yourself harm,
Unable to take care.

Un-shame
myself,
Don't have a weight
Upon my shoulders,
I should know
Who you are,
And you,
Me,
We're lonely.

"Admittedly Have Been Depressed"

Depression can indeed
Fall depths,
Though the bottom
Is ridiculous,
Less than far,
Beneath the surface
Of happiness,
Absurd
That one should be there
When just a small effort
That does not exist
Could strike down
The abuse,
Inflicted by laughing stock,
But nonetheless
Obstacle...
What the depressed
Cannot be,
Until overcome.

It closes in,
Like a jail cell,
One cannot be comfortable in,
All too simple
Do the handcuffs slap on,
No comfort,
So adjustment is merely
Made in your spine,
Abrasion between the vertebrae,
The spinal cord,
And closes like a steel door.

They say it's like a
Crime,
Though,
There isn't any shame,
More toward a scar,
Like "tag,"
Running as a kid,
Life as though
It is a game,
And who was tapped by a hand
Removed from it,
To break a heart
For the fun of it,
Contends with
A conditioned person
Who can embarrass them,
And love it.

"Nothing to speak of,"
It is proud,
The persecuted supersede their abusers,
Embarrass,
It has the most to say,
Although not to boast,
Must behave,
But I will not lie about it,
Let alone be lied about,
By another,
There is no point,
It is superior.

You could say it was
All the day,
Or I was sunken
This afternoon,
Though it wasn't long,
I can tell you,
Compared to the most,
Just a job,
And an enticing one,
To the depths,
For an article necessary,
Of course,
Inconvenient,
But at a very high salary.

What Addictions Shall Do

What mismanagement,
Of a deal,
An opportunity,
So able to be
capitalized on:

The way is paved,
But for a
Sacred heart
that lie upon it,
Something so
easily removed,
The time of
years,
Passed to do;

The masculine-
man,
"Can fend for
their self,"
"The problem
may need help,"
The man's work
done preciously,
Now he has
no pay,
Energy all spent,
He must stare
at the problem,
who burns through money,
Like it were trash;

It's addiction,
The lifestyle of the world,
All the communication
done in all
history,
Is interpreted
to mean,
"Do not kill
But let die,"
"Do not die
but let kill;"

It is weak,
The supernatural
Have paved the way,
Only the
fleshly mortal
let's in it the
Bleeding heart
lay...
Despotic.