Black piss and vomit trickle through your hands.
Clouds and black stars rule above your gaze.
You will salvage nothing from your entire life.
Grieve. Spit coal. Learn to love yourself again.
Weep. Drive yourself headfirst down.
The axis of occulted night terrors and the infinite yawn that lies behind.
The rot of old jilted lovers begging, digging for the warmth in your arms.
Never felt so useless before. My flesh is gravel and my kiss makes sores.
​When I am dead I will expand, ensorcell and consume you.
I only hope I leave a scar somewhere to blight your path.
All else fails. Hail Nibiru

United In Guilt
So frail and full of sighs, the tornado stumbles and subsides.
Fathomless. Nuclear. Unclear in aspiration.
Pinned to gravity's weeping gears and presse against the glass,
we see it is just like us. Full of piss, wishes and dust.
Holding the head heavy and the hand in the vice.
Running every red light on the empty road home.
Like you it needs warmth to expand.
Like you it is decrepit and scarred with distance.
Like me it needs you to love.
Like me it will only crush you and spray your name across time.
In accretion. In algorithms. Like sand. Like rain.
Sigh and smile. Look away

Track Marks
I am the last day of the rest of my life.
Frostbitten and suspended in half slumber.
Cold and devoted to the final page of the chapter.
The destination. The short drop with the sudden stop.
I've found no solace in the shadow of these lonely gods.
​And I cannot shake the weight of these words and dead worlds from my shoulders.
I will devour my sons to make them tame.
The witch opened her black hole veins and I drank.
Grey fingers clutch grey roots and shake the dirt from beneath.
White lips kiss blank marble and shatter their teeth.
Black eyes haunted by bleak tidings; black sails bestilled with no wind to guide them home.
Venerable and venereal, the ghost of future days stood dwarfed among his machines and wept.

Black Hole Fetish
Fear and ceaseless cold keep us drawn together. Like gravity. Lycanthropy.
Distilled and poured. A Lovecraft hex cast deep.
A lust for event horizons our souls will never reach.
And your smile has grown so much larger than your mouth these days.
And my distance has grown so much larger than my frail limbs.
And when I hold you it's like a blanket of nails that scratches and stings and drives its hungry ends into my ribs.
And when you talk it could stop time- a slow tinnitus ring like the bells of angels that make birds fall out of the sky.
I can feel myself rot.
I am laughing all the way down.

Long Night in Hades
​Sick and yellowed, they writhed and sight absurdly like a porn actress in her final curtain call.
Shuffling on numb legs. Leading the long walk into winter.
Limbs spasm and convulse like the camera flash at Jonbenet Ramsay's wake.
A black-handed King Midas laughing at the sick and the stranded,
pulling them headfirst down below the ice.
Crown of tar and coal holding the devil's tongue between his teeth.
Hunger clawing its way out of the hole in between.
Disconnecting the bones to make room for foul air.
Missing the point.
He whispered in my ear "you shall love no-one. Sleep forever in the shadow and the cruel grin of the future's shroud."
I'm forever unclean but I will rinse my vulture's beak in the water pouring from your blue lips.
For every hour the stars fell silent. Those failing pale cataract eyes from a million miles away. The sun perished and every colour ran within another.
The child, the babe and the wheat rotted where they lay.
The outline of a thousand graveyard cities in silver gelatine.
The ice settles into my snow-blind hands.
I will make your days as dark as my dreams. I will swallow you whole.
My venom will wash the world clean.

Out of Your Reach
I am a victim of abject sexual tension pulling my love in spirals like roman rings.
The gears bear down twice as fast at the top of their arc of descent.
The loneliness never subsides while everything around it dies.
I distend and unfurl with disgust and hatred.
We connect bone to flesh like a double helix hit and run.
A cosmic ritual fuck on the grandest scale. Like a cattle truck flipped and its quarry dragged across a quarter mile stretch of highway.
Like a hospital collapsing and entombing its patients with rock and their tools of immunity.
I'm afraid- I no longer trust my gravity for it has lied and dragged everyone around me down.
Do you know love? Do you fear death and its emptiness bearing down?
Ever glaring. Its weight is overbearing and crushing me atom by atom into a singularity

Hands locked around syringe in rosary grip.
Praying for mercy and the methadone drip.
Yellowed papers on the floor bearing bad news.
This grey world is decaying and so are you.
Saying nothing, declaring naught.
My love is for sale and my life has been bought.
Wasking black breath on cold windows.
Carve wet hieroglyphs in  the spit-laced fog.
Hoping bright outside eyes will fill the room with light.
Some song said it long ago. Only the dead are smiling.
Drooling down on us like god

Nothing Changes
The men in their white coats grew an ear on the rodent to listen to their wasted words.
Then they bloated it with pharmaceuticals and bore it down with tumours.
With that weight eternal it was driven into the ground. Mute.
Numb in the feet and far away from home.
The lives forgotten by the lives forgot. Somehow.
Every day I get the feeling that we are the butt of some cruel joke only the dirt and the worms know the punchline to.
No wonder roadkill grins so wide. No wonder lemmings throw themselves into the sea.
No wonder heavy hearts beat to a dirgelike rhythm.
Beating slower like the fist to your chest as it dawns that all your anthems are worthless.
All exits are closed.

Grinning Death
Desperate. Monochromatic.
Time watches on silent and cruel and fate hangs its wreath down low.
Rigor mortis is my name. I am long in the tooth and eager in the jaw.
I setle down in your bones when you're feeling alone.
Down right and deep like the birth rates in towns hit by fire and disease.
Watched by born again god squads and their coathanger's sneer.
Like the stare from a red girl in a red summer shroud. Macabre.
Highly sexualised.
When they pray to themselves and say "darling I just wanna feel dead inside."

 Copyright © Jack The Stripper