The worries you spout,
As we lay together in bed,
Possess no foundation but for those inside your head,
And the seemingly low self confidence,
How that so angers me,
Because your beauty - in and out - is all that I can see.
It isn’t your personality, either, that bothers me so,
but your refusal to accept yourself - to bow to the will of others so easily -
And I hope that the independence of university will give you the will to see.
The will to be...You - The Best Person In The World.

Now, don’t think that this is me criticising you:
I’m criticising me.
My constant big-headedness, self-importance and ego,
Doesn't cast a shadow upon you because you are part of myself.
And self-improvement is what I’m about,
Because you were part of me I started my task,
But as I went about trying to raise your self worth and rationality,
My mind came across something that implicated Me:
By trying to lessen your peer’s control,
I had already forfeited my role.

I had become just another judge, another parent. A Dictator.
I had become what I hated,
But you didn't know.
I was just trying to help.
I did not realise that I was acting the sculptor.
And I promise I did not think of you as clay to mold.

And don’t forget my stubbornness, laziness and fear.
They’re important too.
I was too stubborn to accept any other view,
Too lazy to even consider voicing my thoughts,
Too fearful that you would want to start anew.
Because without you, I don’t know what I would do.

So let this be the first day of the rest of our lives,

Let our conversation never end, but twist and turn and change us into better people than we could ever be alone

February 2013

Kneel before the noose
With roars in chest
Learnt the humility
Abuser wasting his zest

Cry at tomorrow returning no sound
Frightening silence becomes too much loud
Voices of future singing song of the past
The Now is broken and the hope lost it's trust

Cleching rays of light by stale hand
Rotten pride has been betrayed
Ravaged shell will be healed again
To lead you trough circles of undiscovered pain

Blinding light throws me into darkness
Prisoner of malice
Break your knees
In prayer for justice

Last breath will take away
This painful torture
That hates my days
Last breath will take me away
From this endless learning of pain

In morpheus embrace
I can dance with saints
I was granted new chance
But it can't reroute me from hell

Endless hopes of salvation
Avoiding self-meaning
Pray hollow tides for echoes of noble
Decomposed spirit

Swallow all colors
In the search of the path
Look back to the forward
Beyond the lifetime

Rejecting pure energy
Forced to escape
Innocent memory
Will be ravaged again

Trotting along,
Narrow dusty trails,
Under a black sky,
It's not like the city,
The stars don't illuminate the cold, empty dessert,
Here they just forsake you.
Lantern hitched to saddle,
All it means is you can't see more than three feet ahead of yourself,
Just deep, pitch black, inescapable darkness.
Praying for safe passage,
Armed for knowing better,
It's not fear of the dark, of course,
It's the fear of not knowing what lingers in it,
Coyotes, wolves, maybe a mountain lion,
None of 'em compare to bandits,
It's reminiscent of Twain,
Nothing like a coward using the dark to his advantage.
Red on the horizon,
Anxiety begins to sink as peach seeps into the sky,
Survived the night,
Hope to survive another,
Under a black sky

She was in Mexico visiting her father
whom she hadn't seen in eleven years.
I was at home,
falling in love with her
about three weeks after we had begun to know one another.
She called me before she left.
Scared.
Uncertain.
I could see her on the other end of the phone,
sitting on the corner of her bed
in her half-lit room,
pondering over an open suitcase.
I spoke to her every truth I knew,
every caring thought I could think,
as fast as they could be born.

By the time she got back,
I knew I was in love,
even if I couldn't quite find the words to explain it
to her.

We had spoken once about our obsession with birds
when we were younger.
So I prowled around the day before she got back,
in the woods behind my house,
through thickets, brambles,
up the sides of leant trees,
in the remnants of abandoned nests,
for a feather
or two.

She got back from her trip,
and we sat in my car,
before the modern saloon where
I told her I love you
My hands moved for the door
She said wait,
I have something for you
And she pulled out a long, brown quill.
Her cheeks florid,
beneath the thin light of the street lamps
that leaked in through the window.

I laughed,
and she grew redder.
Then I too produced a feather
and I saw in those eyes
something I could not possibly explain.
And even if I could,
I'm not sure I'd want to.

'Why keep a cow when I can buy,'
Said he, 'the milk I need,'
I wanted to spit in his eye
Of selfishness and greed;
But did not, for the reason he
Was stronger than I be.

I told him: ''Tis our human fate,
For better or for worse,
That man and maid should love and mate,
And little children nurse.
Of course, if you are less than man
You can't do what we can.

'So many loving maids would wed,
And wondrous mothers be.'
'I'll buy the love I want,' he said,
'No squally brats for me.'
. . . I hope the devil stoketh well
For him a special hell.

I want my name tattooed on your lips
stars tattooed across my back
my name to be a star
I want you to hold me on your tongue
to leave stars in your hair
when I run my fingers through
I want you so bad it’s driving me mad
playing on our radio
I want your lips so bad on my stars
-want stars when you taste me
your fingers to taste my tattoos
the stars to taste our fingers
when they wander through our lips
I want our fingers touching lips
by the stars that bathe our tattooed names
in the music of the madness twixt our hips
I want our ink all over our skin
A stellar map to lead us in