just think, on the day of
reckoning, we all get ******
down the void, as one.

You're in my head
You're on my mind
I think about you all the time
I'll pick my heart from off the vine
And turn it in to a fine wine

Days go by and I wonder why
Our lives got so intertwined
I play the tape back on rewind
Not sure of what I expect to find

Some might say I'm walking blind
Into the darkness of the night
But you're the sunshine in my eyes
That guides my way, no regard for sight

Even on a cloudy day
In drenched clothes caught out in the rain
And my entire life in disarray
You're still perfect in every way

My reward for being me
Is the sweetness of a jellybean
Or the softness of a puffy cloud
Awaiting me in my dreams

How on earth could they not have known
All those who tried to bury me?
That buried I was not, but sown
Only to grow stronger daily!

How on earth could I not have grown
Fed by their negativity?
Which was fertile enough alone
To both nourish and strengthen me.

They could have just left me alone,
There was no need for it really!
Now they must reap what they have sown,
Must take responsibility!

Aimless.
Can thought run.
To nowhere.
Neither leading or following.
A stalemate has become the  norm.
What is real.
Inspecting that strange figure in the mirror.
Has grown tiresome.
For if there was any resemblance at one time.
What would be the point of validation.
Creating.
Driving.
Movement in general.
Is now a chore.
Does one keep smiling..
Even as these words come out.
Darkening the mind of each new reader.
Muscles move to form the desired action.
Each pair of eyes that look upon.
This mangled form.
Can see.
exactly.
what isn't.
Because of what was.
The stigma was born through the devious means projected.
Branded.
With pain and nostalgia.
Then in an instant.
It all fits grotesquely.
Perfect together.
What need is there for inspiration.
For all that was ever truly needed was imbued into the very soul.
Tempered solid through the years with torment and grief.
Sealed every crack and fracture that would come with anger and self preservation.
Weapons that were kept sharp and ready to use.
And now.
They etch their existence in any corner of the mind available.
Ready to take the next victim.
With.
Or without consent..

I'll just never
understand
why he wasn't
important
  enough to you  
to try and save him...
The same question
could also be posed
  to you,
concerning your Self... Your own inner and outer health...
wealth...  
discipline...
As above so below.
As within so without.
All of life is a mirror.
Our experiences are
A Mirror.

Frogs— suddenly dive,
Blocks of flesh crane to the sky,
Heron holds head high.

And the bell rang, the time of closing
of the nine doors of entrances,
he is glad,he did read much, experienced
imbibed, felt elated,embraced effulgence
but the unmitigated sadness is unforgiving
the heart, heavy; a feeling too painful to take home.
"I haven't invented even one word
as my firm claim to immortality,
words I 've only seen, read and heard"

As he quietly lays waiting, these words
rush to mind,"A solitary pilgrim  am I,
a song sung when an audience was all ears, applauded
beginning from a thought, I am left behind as one,
the rest from dust goes to dust.Finis."