Psycho, American.

-An ode of sorts to all of Bret Easton Ellis' (author) main characters. The quotes are from American Psycho.

Throwing coins into a jar:
"Abandon all hope ye who enter here".
A lifetime of suffocation, dust and death.
You can choose whichever adjective you see fit.

You’re a bit of a coin
Passed around, dented, dirty, deluded;
Surrounded but so alone.
The cities of choking loneliness.

Dressed in your best, white of whites.
How could you live without hope?
Eyes not blue nor brown nor green.
There’s a displacement inside.

And in your dreams you have a soul.
The laughter is gone with the winter.
Searching through thin forests of fairytales
Instead of a prince: “this is not an exit”.

In Absentia

Why not eat dinner on a couch, in front of a static television
that shows news more relevant than any of that media bullshit.
Picking peas off the plate and flicking them through air,
Cutting through spores and the lonely insect.
(Complaining of the brutal light,
Unforgiving the air of wrong vs. right.)

When eating is a chore and keeping it down, even more,
Your body is just as uncaring as your mind trained it to be.
Crack your toes on the tiles treated like speckled stone
skies in the morning, the shepards warning settled with me.
(My bed whispers lies to me in the night,
Between the dreams there's static plight.)

What is it that makes the tiny bugs appear in the afternoon?
The suns angle? But the morning sun angles the same.
Perhaps, just maybe it's instict that cannot be erased:
Like dogs being put to sleep, horses become lame.
(I'm living out a cardboard fight:
Eyes so clear but free of sight.)

Beauty in the Beggar

There's a stray dog crawling up to you,
Timid, somehow timeless, treading heavy,
You don't know how to treat it, but I do.
You don't like loneliness now, do you?

High-maintenance dreams
The glamour the city will take away,
Such a beautiful face, so it seems.
Such a place for sour worm dreams.

The timeless notion of give and take,
Sitting on the streets, you're up in the air,
Glitter and grudges are all you make.
Some freedom and ethics you'd never for take.

Captivated by where the sun goes;
I remember being a child,
Fascinated by the gaps between my toes
Wondering where the space below goes.

The grays' decided to climb some trees,
Delivering home some much needed closure,
But for what? A beggar forced to his knees,
Meditating to the sound of falling trees.

Tricks and Drones

The tide rises and it falls,
Tame, yet escaping through wrinkled floors,
Making its way between the hands of clocks,
Slipping through fingers and landing on rocks
That will turn into tiny specks, so coarse.
Time drags on with an immeasurable force:
Past the child in a cradle, lady in a chair,
The establishing, the growing, the graying of hair.
Tiptoe past my first pet's grave, lined with fish of gold,
Passed the For Sale signs that quickly turned to Sold.
Now the trees' silhouettes are showing in a way
That it is impossible to decipher night from day.
Just like the tide falls and rises,
Time itself has no surprises.

Sun and Moon

It is impossible to escape you. Your exhale has to be my inhale or else you’ll try to pull me back. Are you sick of getting what you want? Is it really compassion that I lack? I am Melancholy and you are Euphoria, we dream the same dream but in different angles in different light. And never at the same time. We sleep in different nights. Sometimes I want you to step in my arms, away from that stinging sun. Sometimes I swear I’m insane for always coming back to where we begun. In vain attempts I took six from seven and never have been left with more. I told you that I want to leave, and you echoed “without me you’ll never find what you’re looking for”. I will pull your body over my head to hide beneath the moon. Now I’ve ceased my breathing and you’re complaining I’m leaving all too soon.

“I never called you in the morning to simply say hello. I was making sure you wouldn’t cry, you wouldn’t scream or go. There have been times I couldn't stand you, there have been times I wanted to scream. All the times I split hairs and crying 'you're never what you seem'. The flowers started shrinking, I just blamed it on the cold; but then the trees started creaking and I knew that they would fold. Your home was written within these walls, so why are you drifting further away? You will always be the same, Melancholy, but change from day to day.”