the architect of this place

the architect of this place.
+++++++++++++

i knew she
had lost
her grace...

from the moment
that she
washed those
angels
from her sad,
once smiling
face;

but never would i
judge.

(everyone's a
victim of this
place)

+

her story isn't
a
common story,

in
face it's quite
unique,

she made
a
Heaven
of
Purgatory!

(until She Lost
The
Will To Speak.)

+

we were together
for
a Time,

but that time
has
come and passed,

much like
most other
"Times
of Love".

(which never
seem
to Last.)

+

She knew
immediately
I
never had
grace..

the moment
that
her bright eyes
saw
The Shadows
In
My Face.

but...
never did she
judge!

(though i was
always the
architect of this
place.)

jsh

the sad clown

the sad clown.
+++++++++++

tonight the moon
is
a sad clown with
craters
on it's face

caused
by tears wept
after
coming
to  realize

the sun does not love
him
Anymore;

and
the stars mock the
clown
with their joyous
smiles
and shining eyes
that
seem to always look
onward
towards some far off
paradise
exclusive only to
them and others
of
their happy kind.

+

and i
wish that i could
save
the clown from the
burdens
of it's crater-heart,
but
it is impossible for
me
because we are the
same;

two sad clowns mocked
by
happy little stars who shall
never
truly KNOW!!!

(what
it
means to
be
unloved
by
The Sun.)

j.stephen.h.

the madness of ourselves

the madness of ourselves.
    +++++++++++++

we didn't drive one another
crazy...

we walked there
slowly,

taking in the shadow-sights,
and

wishing upon those weeping
stars

for something better than
the
madness of ourselves.

j.s.h.

A new set of lungs

a new set of lungs.
+++++++++++++

if the universe were
to give a determinist
who smokes a new
set of lungs,
they would (by
an unchangeable
nature) just smoke
them
all away again;

same
for pills and livers,

greasy
food and arteries,

and
countless other
mechanistic
atrocities.

so
i ask
humbly
dear
universe:

are you for
or
against us?

are we free
to choose,
or fucked by
fate?

and
do the gods
laugh at,
 mock,
or
weep for us?

me?...

ill never
quit smoking
or
questioning!!

(and that i think
is a
freedom in itself.)

j.s.h.

with a soul no hell could thus surpass

with a soul
no hell could
thus surpass.
++++++++

and...

the devil
lit my 13th
cigarette quite
merrily with
his little pinky,
trying to look into
the shadows of 

my haunted 
eyes without
much

victory.

you can't beat

me.


i hide behind these

Phantasmic 

Windows with their 

Oddly Tear-Stained 

Glass;

.

so be
Gone with 

you !

be gone

Thou
Devil-ass!

(and then
i lit the devils first
cigarette quite
 merrily with
a soul no hell
could thus surpass.)

jsh

What the molehill said to the mountain

what the molehill
said to the mountain.
++++++++++++++

without me?
thou art naught!

a
mustard seed
without
the
grains of
faith it
takes
to
grow a field
of
shit.

you were
built from me.

you ARE
me,

and WE
are
THEE.

(eternally
thus the Nothing.)

j.stephen.h.

the door to your hell

the door to your hell
+++++++++++++

if the key
to
my heart opens
the
door to your
hell
my dear,

what business
do either of us
have here?

keep that
starlight
in your eyes!

and I
(in fear)
shall
abandon
Love's
Paradise.

(which
was
likely always
the devils
cheer.)

j.s.h.