Sleep Be My Vehicle

Lonely for the lack of like-minded individuals.

I am soon to enter my inner metropolis;

The center of my psyche.

There are places in my mind that are more ancient than I could have ever imagined.

Sleep be my vehicle,

outrun the pursuit by the time police.

[23:46|30.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Fluid Syntax

written in fluid syntax

on the waking dawn of a dream;

on behalf of undeserving,

to her who oft covers her brow in colorful linens

and whose smile is generous;

I myself in this need, so that I may smile as such,

once again...

and exorcise demons created by my own fissures;

I feared to send it,

for I have often misunderstood and missed understanding

[21:21|31.5.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Your Mental Engine's Machinations

Hardly holding it all in,

only for the inevitable release.

Suicidally sharp exhaling of every word

in no discernible order

Your arraignment,

a secret stab to the heart.

Cold-cuts, cured, sliced singularly thin;

phantom fuel for your mental engine's machinations...

On,

into the intrigue.

[21:55|30.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Mint These Coins

Incharitable heart,

adamant to the hardness of stone,

repeat offender,

lesson never learned.

Begin ones again,

follow a two-cent charge;

difficulty of mentation,

'heavy metal machine.'

Mint these silver coins,

dually placed on cold eyelids,

for the price of an everlasting

one-way journey.

[17:46|29.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Conduits of Flowing Comprehension

Conduits of flowing comprehension

horizons of thought disintegration

scaled bodies of water featuring seeping foundations

Dynamic heir

I am no trouble here

Place your years on 'hear'

Listen to the sway of memories

Twisting ladders and fatty folds

Crystal under the skin

For the duration of a moment I understand,

to only have it dissolve in the sea of the mundane

[17:09|29.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Reorganization of Retrograde

A shift in data,

one forward for processing;

a rising generation,

an expunging of excess debris,

a reorganization of retrograde,

"He calleth for Elias!"

the stone of the well,

the silt of the clay,

the water of the wave;

blood of the arteries pump my oxygen,

and let me push out words worth watering.

I read your voice.

Did you ever see the note I left for you?

C'est la vie...

Just another unobserved blip on your radar

[23:30|28.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Swim in the Synchronized

Elder fire burn in my eyes;

the thousand-worded trope of my sight;

Lights begin to flicker

as I swim in the synchronized.

Pay for the poor unfortunate souls,

again and again...

so few so sure;

fewer still fully populated by their entire faculty.

[23:11|28.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Ardent Meditation

Fiery zone of intense contemplation;

Needles piercing the eyes of interest;

We engage in ardent meditation;

Vehement in the stress of

forging metal with bare hands

and piping lungs...

Your smile is chiseled in granite

My warmth is blanketed by snow

Always this barrier between us;

painted with blood and scratches

from broken nails and fingers.

Vanity in the screams of frustration.

[15:53|28.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Chance Subliminal

Fighting for a few seconds here,

struggling for a chance subliminal

to tie your eyes together

in a covetous stare.

Park your view in my wayside,

pay the toll

for the journey of a lifetime.

Stay here in this

infinitely stretching road with me...

forever into the sunset;

'below the threshold of conscious perception'.

[15:33|28.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Derelict Memory

Without this broken glass I cannot see.

Interrupted, the waters no longer flow steadily,

and sedated thoughts of you fade into sinking,

derelict memory.

My head is full of your old dreams; constantly

reminding me of a face I cannot clearly perceive.

I hide the addictions that fill the void you once

dwelt within; and with ease I repeat the

injuries to my psyche over and over again.

[19:30|24.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Blood and Lost

Sinking in her striking dialect,

the words take their costly toll;

heart-strings pulled tightly,

and deftly strummed in haunting melody;

I am left to be sublimely mesmerized.

I accept her cold knife to my chest.

The blood pools at her fair feet

as I grow pale and feeble.

As vision darkens, and shock sets in

My last thought dims my mind;

Better to have blood and lost,

than to never have bled at all.

[21:10|13.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

We Live in Rooms

We live in rooms

all of humanity

all with their doors

to other rooms

with other persons

among us walk

people who have the force

of an event horizon

rearranging reality

changing names, changing perceptions

changing entire personas

surgical instruments on society

invisible for the precision of the cuts

or the breaking down of barriers

[22:43|09.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Chronological Thoughts

Do you have the time?

I cannot find mine any longer;

too many spilled seconds you see;

And the chronological thoughts of my being

are now but frozen particles in the wind,

dancing to and fro;

over the painted lines,

drifting over the concrete of the highway.

I lift my eyes up to heaven,

to see that Sol shines

above the darkness of the clouds.

[21:56|09.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Searching Memory

"Are you high?"

"Did your friend give you drugs?"

It was the sole purpose I went down there for.

I lost more than I ever knew.

The walls defining the boundaries of reality melted,

and the ghosts of madness invaded my broken realm.

::searching memory::

I scared them you know...

the people in that hotel;

as I went round and round the table in the lobby.

It was in that moment of oblivion,

where all thoughts became nothing,

that I discovered spiritual death...

...the mutilation of my senses;

the 'gift' of the abuse of the substances.

[21:44|09.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Climby the Stairs

They climby the stairs

they ridey them down

they up the sky

and round the ground

It took a long time to come back to the realm of sanity.

[21:19|09.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

A Chore of Indifference

I burned down your house today;

I gloated over it...

a smoldering, smoking triumph

to my name.

I wiped your face from my memory

with such ease as if it were

drawn on an etch-a-sketch;

a final motion.

::scratching eyes::

Leave these leaves

lying in the gutter

for the rain to wash away;

a chore of indifference.

[18:14|09.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Let's Build Power-Lines

Flushed organs;

fluted pipes pushing puffs of atmosphere;

a dying record of melody

losing life in an aged brain;

the stain of a life lived to the brink

of eruption

of deduction

dividing ions...

...the purge legitimizes

the addictive electron;

Let's take pockets of anarchy

from the derelict corners of our minds

exchanging their constituents

for plastic chips and diamond salsa.

I bleed light from the edge of the fray.

The wound?

A lack of faith,

a lack of humility,

a lack of reverence.

Let's build power-lines;

the evidence of an expansive conquering border.

Licking snake-eyes to pay for

serpent-skin boots.

Throw me one last disastrous smile.

Show me my thoughts are meaningless.

[22:21|08.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

A Drunken Playground

Vitriol dresses after death;

putting away ashamed anarchy,

closing the record of

our gibberish beside a drunken playground...

::erase the chalkboard::

the genius experiments into careless variance;

fostering contravention of 'absolute' arguments;

lilting the head back for half a laugh...

while I drain the effect on behalf of silent gumshoes;

searching for the culprit of the crime of consciousness;

breaking the son of Jacob,

wearing musical vestiture.

::cracking ribs with sticks and stones::

Leave these bones to bleach in the sun;

Trampling on the body,

after the firing of the gun.

[15:56|03.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Fruit of Luncheon

Back in the olden days

We wasted the fruit

of our lunches

by hurling them at breakneck speeds

against brick walls

Crisp apples were the best;

for they exploded in every direction

[13:31|03.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Death Mask of Mangled Friendship

a cheering invitation

dirty jazz in rote

for a forgotten legend

of

one-handed

red-fingered

blood-blistered

thievery of bloated

wallets

and loaded embossed

magnetic plastic

Words condense

in this

pressurized compactness

of the fine-printed

contract

signed

in invisible

jocular ink

an extract of our skin

sink

sink

::blinking the sidereal vision::

We traded mangosteen blood

for green substance death

Mixed and distorted

broken and contorted

breaking the glass of my eyes

the clock went forward

and it went back

stood still

did jumping-jacks

jammed thumbtacks into fingers

and the memory still lingers

there in trope

the death mask

of a mangled friendship

now counting leaves in an eternal sunset

for the fifth time

by way of sequence

[13:14|03.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Ode to the Stickiness

A fine evening of breathing in tasty air!

The stickiness (O, Stickiness!)

of my mouth of cotton

makes me

cozily sleepily slumber

in the hammock of your head.

Listen to the exchange;

You're fired!

What?

You heard me!

::ignites the gasoline::

I'm in the fifth fraud!

Applaud

Man of fire

Man on fire

Torch the trees

Nuke the whales of inquisition!

Nobody suspects the Cetacea!

Drifting through the hex

Ex-Federal Agents to themselves

chasing purple perpetrators

Bar none...

the iron is soul'd out

[21:25|02.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Silken Kindred

I lurk on the left hand;

A stare; a blank,

devoid of the spark;

Ark, Arc;

lightning striking

the ghost of Tesla

Silken kindred

acid burns

as a catharsis

for the dead thoughts

it churns

One Witch

sandwich

burn you [BEEP]

switch...

gamma

theta

pi

[22:45|02.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Devil's Lettuce

The effects of the burning of

the Devil's lettuce... inhaling the

smoke... it broke the foundation of

my consciousness;

A trap,

A trap door to fall into Chaos and

be lost in an incarnation of the

Chateu D'if within my own cells.

Such an adverse reaction that my

sight was opened to the hosts of

hell; and I became an open gateway

for their warmongering.

Those I afflicted still remain on

the other side of the chasm; the

rift between opposing factions.

[22:08|02.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter

Pickled Cynicism

I set the spikes outside the

field of my experience; casting out

nets to fish out pearls of thought,

hidden in the sewers of insanity.

The smell of the death-of-mind

brings back memories of lifetimes

long past... Trapped in the core

of consciousness; alone with the

demons of alternate identity that

dwell in every subconscious

metropolis.

I endure in a fractured

countenance; unable to reach back

and seize the source of the poison

which spices my individuality...

the memories sealed in a place I

can no longer discover.

Hence I hear flats in sharp

progression, and now the unlikely

combination of Seroquel and

caffeine put my faculty under the

avalanche of cruel cowardice; and I

take my repose in pickled cynicism.

[19:22|02.11.011] ©c.thomas.carter