I feel myself being pulled in every direction.
I don't know what to do anymore.
The girl who has all the answers
is breaking under the microscope.
I realized the other day that I lie to myself
more than anyone else.
"Everything is fine.. I'm fine.. really don't
worry about me.. how are you?"
I'm lying.
Everything's not fine.
I'm not fine.
Worry about me.
I don't care how you are right now.
I'm ******* dying.

When Ghost girl comes to call
She walks through the wall
Which can be a shock
If only she used the lock

It must be hard being dead
When she loses her head
She can't take any more
Of staring up from the floor

copyright 2011

Those who enter here
Consumed by the darkness
Where the coldest touch
Finds their very soul
They keep searching
For the heat of humanity
That stays out of reach
So they keep writing
To escape their pain
Embracing unreality

Some live forever
Their immortality claimed
Like some hungry vampire
Seeking their own need
The purpose to exist
Their words flowing
Finding hungry readers
Devouring all that they see
Where the poet is haunted
Releasing their own anxiety

Like those from the past
Writing of ravens and night
A new breed has come
Embraced in torment
Looking for release
Setting free their inner self
Poetry born in flames
Of the forbidden imagination
Forever to be remembered
In the club of the ******

Today I saw you, my son
You had tears in your eyes
Visiting me with your mother
Five years old, my boy
I wanted to hold you
Then you both walked away

Now you are eleven, my son
You have grown so much
Visiting me on your own
Telling me how you missed me
How you wished I was there
Then you turned and walked away

Sixteen and almost a man
I am so proud of you
You want to be just like me
But you promise to always stay
My love is there for you, my son
Then you turned and walked away

Twenty and in your uniform
You joined the army, my son
A soldier as I used to be
Soon you will have to go
You promise you will always return
A rose on my grave, and never walk away



copyright Chris Smith 2012

This desk is my island,
This pen; my sailboat,
My mind is the captain,
Exploring the world,

But,
I can never get far enough,
To know myself,
There’s too many miles,

Words can’t cover them all,

I barely know who I am,
Or even what I want,
Or if what I do; will mean a thing.

Though at times,
I am alone,
Others; I am not

I am my own worst enemy,

And my own best friend,

I could sail forever on this pen,
To a sea; misshapen and insecure,
To try and be sure,
Of an answer which may not,
Even be there.

But of this; I swear,

Whatever ship carries me,
To wherever you may be,
Whatever treasures,
I have to bare,
However adorned,
With all my scars and tears:

It’s all for you,
I reveal my insides,
I sift through the oceans,
And clear the skies,
I sail for you; my dear,
Until my last pen dies.