It’s funny
On those days
Where my head pains
More than my heart,
It seems the universe
Grants seeds
Of new Hope.
On that beautiful,
Begrudging, persistent
Day, when the addiction
To the darkness—
Numbnity— returns,
You will be tested.
The threshold of
Pain in your mind,
The calcification
Of your teeth and bones,
And the softness of skin
Will be tested.  
And on that day,
You will have a
Sustantial conversation
With yourself,
Through someone else—
A lover silently
Snoring next to you,
A clerk at Family Dollar
With a gold tooth
Who laughs and says
“You like these, huh?”
As you purchase your
Fifth juice of the week,
A mirror image
You do not completely
Recognize,
God or the devil himself—
That will torment you,
Force you to ask
The difficult question
Upon the scale
Of evolution.
Those days,
Will plant seeds of hope.
Only if you listen

You're like a fungus
Growing colors among us.
As happy as you look,
I can read you, an open book.

From your flowing silk cap,
To your teeth with slight gap.
A smile to hide sinister desire,
Face ice cold, soul a pyre.

Tasting your intriguing trap
Leads only to a sour dirt nap.
Left feeling alone and dead,
Wondering where is your head.
For who in their right mind
Could be so evil as to **** mine.