They look like good, strong hands...

I felt like a beast. She said I was a kitten.









A bit sleepy. Things have been up and down and always hanging to the left.
I hope all is well with all my loyal readers...
(Whoever the hell they may be... nobody ever comments!
Even "Your shit sucks yo" is better then nothing.)
So I am now done of yet another book of poetry and prose...
this one is titled "The Tide and the Sin and the way you broke me down".
Start on the next beast tomorrow night, title as of now unknown.
Oh yeah due to Frank and Ryne's super mutant powers we all (Frank, Ryne, G-Machine and the good Ol' Captain) are going to the free show of My Chemical Romance.
Write again soon... as I know you all hunger and thirst for every precious new drop of shite writing.

Captain
PirateFace

"They look like good, strong hands... don't they?"
Rock Biter to Atreyu in "The Never Ending Story"




on with the Ugliness.....

she asked would I burn for her.

I felt my blood wet on my pants, right under both knees.
Kneeling was respectful and it could show that I was hers.
My head bowed, I could never catch her gaze…
Those brown eyes deep and penetrating looking through me.
I would feel a small electric shock run down my spine at the mere touch
of her fingers running through my hair.
She asked me to do things that I question to this very day.
Things that would cut away little pieces of my humanity.
But for her I would do anything.
Would I burn for her?
The answer will always be yes, I already am.

words fail me

in a dark corner
poked by the stick
in the heart
I cry for the problems I can never escape.
The crowd stares past me and I can hear the laugh track on playback in slow motion.
My legs refuse to stand and my spine keeps curled.
They call me freak and I call me devastating.

She always loved the strongest when I was not there to love.

I could feel her in my bones.
Like rotting my marrow.
Taught me tricks that drove me mad.
Let me show you.
She would whisper in my ear.
If only I wasn’t chained to this bed.
I could run away.
With every pained glance, I could feel my blood boil.
I could feel the little boy in me sweat with fear.
I am just another little piece of meat plucked from her teeth.

I am dreaming

The piano is pounded hard by bony old lady fingers.
We jump up and down and hop and strut like lunatics.
The yard smells of hot, wet, recently cut grass.
We smile gigantic for her as she smears big pink lip stains on our cheeks.
We win today and the song repeats dangerously in our heads.

What do I have to fear?

I care about you and Atomic war and bad 70’s porn and Star Wars toy’s I will never own.
I care about that smile you use like a fucking weapon and sea monkeys and horror films where the monster gets the girl in more ways than one.
I care about the little pat on the back you gave me when we embraced in a hug and when I see little kids screaming through tears in frustration at the parents who refuse to even look at the rotten little bastards.
I care about you crying in your hands through sobs begging God for a little hope and music without words and laugh lines on old folks who refuse to even try and smile anymore.
I care that we are broken.
I care that you don’t see me looking out for you.
I care that your kindness never shines through past your power trip.
I don’t really care about all the things I lied about through honest eyes a million times before.
I care that you don’t know what happens next or what to do.
Do you?

Wondering

She wonders where I disappeared to after high school.
She wonders if she missed a funeral for me I may or may not have had.
She wonders if she should have worn underpants today.
She wonders if bad Karma follows her around due to her lack of good luck.
She wonders if the guy at the record store will look her in the eye while she asks numerous questions about shitty music.
She wonders if her best friend is putting the moves on her father and planning an early death for her mother.
She wonders if she wonders too damn much.

when it’s time to give up

it’s time to hang up the good suite that you never wore.
It’s time to laugh off the last 25 years that have been so damn unkind.
It’s time to write letters to people you will never meet, bottle them up and launch them into any near body of water… using your good arm to throw of course.
It’s time for one last glance from afar at the girl you love but never had the guts to tell.
“It’s just about that time” is what you will have to repeat over and over again.
Ending the night with going home and shivering in bed under cold thin blankets while contemplating the giving up you will do the next day while refusing to put on the heater.
===============================================================




Thanks and Good Fucking Night...

She wishes I was Super... I wish I was enough.

Captain PirateFace