In the corner of my eye,

the rabbit runs.

While in the corner of my eye,

I am confined.

Stomp, stomp stomp.

All I hear through the wind,

Beneath the boot of regret.

And as my eyes begin to dance,

it doubles,

triples,

again,

and again,

and again,

until I am blind.

Stomp, stomp, stomp,

is all I hear,

all I feel,

beneath the boot of regret.

Stomp.

Stomp.

Stomp.

Beneath the boot of regret,

it never stops.

Stomp


Stomp



STOMP.

I lay alone, dreaming, hoping for a dream to fly.
So I can finally reach my sacred place to die.
But still! I'm blocked by Fate, who feeds me all her lies,
preventing me from reaching, my Castle in the sky.

But this tiny sheet of love, for all the things who die,
stops the thought of thought, hiding in the tide.
Yet all the shades who say they love, who turn on me my side,
are stopping me from reaching, my Castle in the sky.

And still! this curse I hold, is keeping me alive.
In the cursed earth: the Devil's best disguise.
But I've finally found a path, where I won't ask "why?"
Where I'll be seated in my Castle in the sky.

All the words I learn,

           are lies.

Until all the words I know,

           are lies.

And now the poem I write,

           is a lie.

Caught in a three way exchange
where only two exist,
where each card played,
is an attempt to persist.
To break down a wall,
fortified by lust.
As the top card lays showing
the mistaken face of trust.
And in the middle
I'm all that's left,
mistaken as nothing
but a silhouette.

How I see myself,

how others see me,

I often wonder,

"How," "why."

Why pass The Gavel

past something

faint,

small,

shallow,

scared?

After all,

you seldom see

beneath a mask

worn to hide

that same

faint,

small,

shallow,

scared,

soul who can't find

his balance

in some other's world

where he can't even

judge himself.

And in my body I feel no pain

from the emotion that anyone can feel

unless I subscribe myself to that level.

To feel or to love

something I wish to obtain.

But how can I tell?

When I feel what is love?

Or when blindness of my mind

clouds judgment as I am still just a man.

Hungry, eager to feel what the gods called “love,” “lust.”

Where all this mind, this body, wants to feel is wanted.

Desired.

I am still just a humble person.

Shy,

Shallow.

Living in my own world,

not yours,

but you can see me as I pass through this earth,

as we share the same home,

but different worlds.

Will I ever find someone who

is in the same world as me?