Dead men suffer not
while the living rust with rot.
Streams of pain drain from my eyes,
as I too, despise this rain of demise.
Screams beam from the inside but my
outside shines somewhat bright.
Like a tempest tossing me, I’m drowning
not of passion, only despair.
Here, I cry while the night
chases away my light.
Days are bittersweet, yielding the promise
of beauty but hiding the inevitable fright.
Lucid love licks my lips lustfully, lively,
as white waves wash wildly over me,
but they can’t run free.
I wonder what is right to be.
Fury runs free, as it never clots.
My dreams twist my hopes into knots
because others do not hold the shots
from a cruel life. I fight, kick, pound,
but I can’t scream out loud.
And so I die a death without sound.

Daylight turns dark by the sight of night
and my desperate endeavors lack light.
You keep me far beyond your hands,
but my eyes still taste of you.
Long are the nights that you fall like sands.
I would right my wrongs just to reach you.

I despise the demise in the moonrise;
I just want to reach your eyes.
I try to see why,
I try to see why,
I try to see why you deny me like Peter.
You claim to accept me, but your words
so often blur together. Like birds
you lie higher than the light of the sky;
away from a dying cry and so high you fly.
Your chaos echoes too great for me.
My heart teeters on the edge of sanity;
it’s the summer and winter of Demeter.
These nights never die, they live forever.
Why can’t our time just tick together?
Each time that I look at you, it feels as if a dementor
is leeching me, as I try to see why.

Daylight turns dark by the sight of night
and my desperate endeavors lack light.
You keep me far beyond your hands,
but my eyes still taste of you.
Long are the nights that you fall like sands.
I would right my wrongs just to reach you.

I strive for your thoughts and attention
and only you can thin the tension within.
But our days just haze woefully gray.
It sets my heart to blaze,
but to you it doesn’t faze.

My thoughts of you only continue to distend
without end. But to my chagrin,
you get under my skin, you make the nights dim,
you cause me to grin. But against you I can’t swim,
I’m a fish without a fin; these nights are so grim.
But I just want to know your ways,
how do you put me in such a craze?
How is your gaze brighter than the Sun’s rays?
But to the rim I can reach with your praise.
These days are up to the brim with mayhem.
I don’t know where to go. What to do while
everything feels like it’s falling apart.
I hate this, it’s not fun for me.
Why does day and night feel the same?

Daylight turns dark by the sight of night
and my desperate endeavors lack light.
You keep me far beyond your hands,
but my eyes still taste of you.
Long are the nights that you fall like sands.
I would right my wrongs just to reach you.

I know that Heaven is so close
because all I see is your face.
Although for us, it’s slower than the snow
blowing without woe. Your
glow grows my core and sets me to soar
towards a heavenly embrace. Facing
my fears with you near, I have no foe.
But it hurts to be so close and so far;
am I stuck in tar? I want us to have space
but I just want our embrace and so
to your reach, I give chase.
I race to meet your pace;
is this a coup de grace or my disgrace?
Can my adoration reach higher than the floor?
I don’t know if Heaven is that far.
I want to forego this unblissful inflow
of the unknowing that comes from below
those heavenly downpours. But I am so poor!
Poor in my heart and alone with sorrow,
but I can be rich with your reach.
Heaven promises beauty in your mere glance.
Oh! I’m blessed with sweet deliverance!
With you, I need just one dance.
For you, I’ll take any chance.
Your reach is my future’s finance.

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

The days haze woefully gray
as I sit here, alone, and my blaze decays.
Empty promises never go away,
and so I swear to close their place
in my desperate heart. But the night
lives as long as it is tenebrous. I’ve tried
to hide, to bide my time until they see
the type of person that I can be. To me,
it was a waste; they didn’t want to be
the friend that I needed. And so I pleaded
with myself to never be so weak. But the ends
of my week stayed littered with fleeting
hopes to be included, to be one of them.

I attempted to be bold and put my fears on hold
because regret lives longer than the night.
And yet I remain here unnoticed and unwanted. I hate
how my doubt distends and bends so bitterly.
But perhaps it is my fate? Am I destined to be late
from the gaze of my peers; to be deaf in their ears?
But I can’t deny that it hurts as I am a blur
in the vision of my friends. My patience is evasive.
I am set to wait, while they are sated and I hate it.

The night is a heavyweight and I am too weak.
I strive to not be so jealous. I wish to not feel so much.
I want to need myself more. But the night is not light,
it is an empty reach, stinging with envy. My eyes
are sorrowed by such a shade, but they despise
by their lonesome. So loathsome is the blight
that comes with the lonely night. It arrives
much unlike a good knight. It lurks there despite
my might, and it is never defeated when we fight.
The white of daylight is gone by the sight of the night...

Waves of sadness make me hostage.
I’m broken down, taxed, and can’t pay homage
to the ones who love me because they won’t exist.
My determination? Destitute. My drive? Despondent.
I’m tired and tied in *******; beatings make me blind.
Fearing too much of being not enough; timidly
with flight or fight, I’m frozen and stuck behind.
Losing my hope is a snowball decreasing
my peace of mind, but increasing proclivity
for this piece of mine to knock off a piece of mind.

The terror taking thoughts as I tear a wrist.
Mentally. In my mind, I paint vividly.
Nothing. My writing lacks imagery;
temerity isn’t consistent and it’s not fair to me.
With this life, I feel disparity. Please stop the abuse,
it’s not even a rarity. I need care for me.
The blues keep playing until tears produce.
Smiles are only arriving rarely; numbly
I’m barely feeling it a little bit.
I’m neutral, where’s polarity?
Prosperity? I’m probably spilling it.
Making a mistake seems so scary
when its dreams, seduces, and reduces,
your will to go on because of the bruises.
And when I take another hit squarely
to the chest, I’ll just cry and take another hit
to the chest, until they’re enthused and I’m used.