my head is sick

mY hEaD
iS sIcK.
++++++

damn,
My head
is
sick.

achoo!
achoo!

and
the madness
seeps
in quick!

(heart choking
on
memories of
you.)

+

reason tells
me
indifference is
the
cure;

but
how do you
cure
the unreasonable
with

itself?


Souls like Yours
are
Perfectly Impure!

(and
turn sad heavens
into
happy hells.)

+

damn
my head is
sick;

(but
Her eyes
are

The
Remedy.)

and may
Love
seep in quick!

(so
that madness
won't
remember me.)

jsh

the destitute angel

the destitute angel.
+++++++++++++

The Destitute Angel paces
madly
back and forth across the
Library's Main entrance way
proclaiming
her
Angel-hood to the masses 

in a loud voice
nobody
pays much attention to anymore.

Well, (I think)

She damn sure does a lot
of
ice for A Divine Being,

but perhaps
the
Vices of Men 

are the 

Virtues
of
An Angel?

and

really

who 

am
i after all

(a

fellow speck 

of 

Cosmic Dust)

to
question such 

things?

+

The Library's Security Guard
rushes
out after about 5 mins and tells
The Angel
to clear the entrance way in a
voice

of 

authority that doesn't match
his
youthful appearance much, 

but 

it works nonetheless.

And pretty soon the Angel saunters
over
to 

me and says (in a much softer
voice)

"pardon me buddy, do you have
a
cigarette you could spare?"

"yeah sure." 

I say, handing her
one from my pack.

Lighting her cigarette, she 

exhales
a

large plume of smoke from her

Blistered Lips and says:

"thank you sir. your reward shall
be in heaven...

I'm an angel you see."

"you're welcome." I reply.

"but don't worry about it. 

I like
it 

down here most days."

+

With a confused expression on
her
Face,

 he Angel walks back over
to
the library's main entrance
way

and

resumes her word-salad -spewing
manically-pacing routine, 

as I go back to
reading
Arthur Rimbaud's:

A Season in Hell. 

Thinking to
myself
how wrong he was.

Hell (for most)

isn't seasonal here.

(it's Every Fucking

Day.)

J.Stephen.H.

the rant of narcissus

the rant of narcissus.
+++++++++++++

he had a personality
which
always spoke of itself
in the 13th person;

hows that for a numbing
brain twister?

(but
how the eff does he live
with
The lies, and eyes, that
reflect mere
shadows of themselves?)

down here we've all
got our own shit to deal
with,

and so (aside from
"share time")

its every voice and/or
personality for itself.

+

damn im drowning
in  life...

someone throw me
a death-line and help
me sink further.

(i need the sleep.)

ive blinked away these
last few centuries in
a matter of seconds.

(so that
one free minute would
be a rival to my hearts
eternity.)

+

shit.

hes...

falling in love with himselves
again.

diggin that ol grave
we dig and never crawl
out of.

must be nice to be so
certain that...

any of this is real..
with the precision of
revisions a dead (for
now) poet once noted.

as for me,
livin or dead...

im drowning.

(and angels have
snapped
my death-line.)

JSH

fear my shadow children

fear my 

shadow 

children

+++++++++++++

i dont fight sleep..

sleep fights ME.

because it knows

the shit I'm capable

of.

(when i step into

it's dreams.)

don't fret my 

friend..

or show any

fears..

there is no 

pain before the

end!!

(tis those Lies 

we

live which bring 

us

nightmares.)

+

i don't fear 

death..

nor does 

it

fear me.

we are the

SAME

aside 

from 

wretched

breath!!

(which shall

cease eventually.)

+

so

say your 

prayers hard

old flame,

and...

pray harder

something up

there

hears them.

for neither

death nor

sleep shall

be to blame!!

(but fear my

Shadow Children.)

jsh

a jester in denial

a jester in denial
+++++++++++++

love,

you fed me thorns,
but the roses in your
eyes

assured they went
down gently.

i'd kill , or die for you
if i thought it'd help
anything.

but
can sweet tears mend
your wretched (cut on)
smile?

i seemed like a
God
to you once upon a
time!

(but have since become
a jester in denial.)

jsh

the theatre within you

The theatre
Within You.
+++++++++++++

Coming soon
to
The Theatre Within
You : (!!!!)

A
New Way to Spend
More

Of
Eternity Dying.

Believing what you
Made
Your Truth.

(Though you knew
Then that your
Head
was Lying.)
+

Expect a star
studded cast...

One

From Many.

An
Immortality
without
Present or Past!

But angels?

(I doubt there's
any.)

a theatre absurd

At times I think
God in true,

Is A Method Actor


Playing Diverse parts
In
This Theatre Absurd.

and woe to my pleas
For Truth unheard!

( but
May
my Season
Be renewed.)

+

Welcome to
My
Beating Heart.

A
Closet the boogie
Man

Shits in when
Life
Gets Cold and
Dark.

Its
Torn Worlds
Apart!!!

( angelic Snipers
Hit
Their Mark.)

to be cont.

an unfillable void of never-self

an unfillable void of neverself.
+++++++++++++++++++++++

What if...

the whole
Of Existence were
A
mere Soliloquy

(confused with
dialogue.)

playing out in a
Series of Dreams
the
Universe has ?

(because
it grew sick of being
Lonely,
and thus seeks
to fill The
Void of Never-Self.)

And would I /we/it
(et cetera ad infinitum )
possess any
Meaning Outside of
Ourself?

(Or forever
Be
A timeless
Wanderer
Lost Within
It's Head?)

++++++++++



 (unfortunately) the most
favored of analytical methods
(that of the scientific) cannot
be applied to an examination
of that which is essentially
intangible.

So At the moment, (which I readily admit could change
given time, circumstance,
and new information to evaluate) I hold the opinion
that a belief in any god is a matter of
Sociocultural Indoctrination , and grounded not so much in
proofs, nor probabilities, as
unproven myths
exchanged between varying cultures
who share little in common.

(Other than the odd fact that the god, or gods they always
talk about, have never talked
themselves ...)

as the mirror of his soul reflected

As the mirror
Of his soul reflected.
+++++++++++++


Hear the tale.

of
A
Lost Son
dejected.

and
Sent to The Woods
To Learn
(from Wolves )
The Ways of Haunted
Men.

as
The Mirror of
His Soul reflected!

(on
 ways to break
The Glass Again. )

+

sad eyes
peek
Behind
The
Curtain...

Searching for
A
Higher Truth;

but
still
remain
A
Beast
uncertain!

(of the angels
 lost in youth.)

+

Hear now
the tale.

of
A man who
Found,

Heaven
In
the Midst of
Hell!

But
Gods voice?!!!

(It never made
A Sound.)

Jsh

the wolf of self who ate his heart

The wolF
oF seLf (wHo
aTe hIs HeaRt.)
+++++++++++++

I was normal
once
you know.

(& it was
fuckin
horrible. )

but
My sheep 

suit
concealed

a most curious
Wolf in
 human clothes.

(angrily
chewing its
way
out of ThIs
PriSon
mosT caLL
Self.)

×

Nothing made
Sense..

and
Long days
were
spent idling
away at
fickle labors,

With aLL

HoPe
Buried in 

A
Coffin
Of Ironic Smiles.

(Never to be
had Again.)

+
Now,

Here lies
ThE
MAn of MEn.

(Throw rocks
if you can.)

Upon His
Plot grows
HeAdLesS
RoSes!

(Watered
by
tear-filled
Beer cans.)

+

But..

"They"
Say
I'm a
bit better
Now.

(or at
least
Crazy
In The
Sanest
of
ways

My voices
all could
muster.)

An
Ever- Curious
Lion

living
gregariously
amongst

RoboTiC
LamBs.

While
Feigning
Peace!!

(With the
Wolf
Of Self

 Who ATe
HiS HeArT.)

J.s.h.

The Walls

The Walls are deaf
to your screams, and
Blind to Pain.

I notice
Their Indifference in
Dreams.

(Yet

Here Most Lunatics
Are Sane.)

And love cuts a
Bloody hole,

Somewhere deep
Within,

Until you feel
A
Loss of Soul!!

(You no longer
Need to Question. )

+

So long ago

(it seems to me)

I 

Was A Happy Boy;

Who 

Never felt 

A

Day

of

Sorrow.

(Or need 

to

Self -Destroy.)