Kleptomaniac

Bladed pens pulsing
With the heart beats
Of a dying being
Taught between its ribs

Breathing with the collapsed
Coal mines of cold lungs

Quiet as the blood beats
Drip onto the sidewalk
Of a well-lit street in
Downtown

Stabbed in a bedroom
And conscious on concrete

Being bleeding out on carpet
Before screaming itself
Through a pulsating portal
To swirling chords and pages

Illicit paintings
On brick mansions

Floating with the abandoned
Messages of faded factions
Long since past
In this cairn of notary

In the distance
A granite chain sighs

Transported here by will
By the art of hearts
Beating knives that bleed them
Back into painted bricks

Lost husks of humanity
Wander, so the being
Isn’t lonely among
Those who lost

People from long ago
Now just ghosts

Being a thrall to the cairn
Almost doesn’t care
Of soul gems it thinks empty
Even as it feels it being

Ripped and torn
Apart

Heart beating slowly
With the rest of limbo
Pulsating as a sunless
Day never wanes

Hand on the alley wall
Mind on nothing at all

Bleeding out in a bedroom
So far and long ago
But the being is feeling
It now

Pens of gold ink
Leeched by disease

By the cold lungs
Voidbreath is flung
With the fire, frost,
And electricity of chaos

Black writing
Pierces the sky

With scores of novels
Being endlessly
Swallowed by the cloud’s
Gorging on knowledge

Bleeding out somewhere
What happened?

The things that
Got it here
To think and feel
With the constant

Fade in and out
Of life between edges

Of the slick knife plunged
From inkwell to chest
What murderous perpatrator
Wrote it off

Watching the droplets
Splash timidly on asphalt

Cast to relive the days
Over again
Seeing the symbols
And bleeding all over

A trail
Follows this being

Not lost but never here
Or there
Or anywhere meant to
Since nothing’s needed to

Skeletons
And spectres

Some beings
Bleeding like
This being
Who’s bleeding

Quietly on a bedroom floor
That it stole meaning from

Five

In purgatory we
Found an elevator
An unexpected
Victory helping
Our secret rising

Into the pale lift
Beside two strangers
With whom we bluffed
With up to hotel’s
Frayed gold fifth story

Old carpet halls have
No decorations
No windows looking
Outside or clockworks
On the wallpaper

We were there for five
Moments out of place
And off oily streets
In the purgatory
We wandered into

There for five moments
Aware and lost yet
It seemed as if
We were both in there
From sun rise till set