She Comes.

By way of storm.

the waters winding
in a fury of death.

And She. is painting
the sky

Black.

For now.

Don't listen to that voice
The one within your mind
That tells you everything is going to be okay

Because it's not

You know it's not

You struggle every day and every night
Always tired of this fight
It draws you in and lures you too far
Then you're trapped and there's no going back
So why bother?

Why bother?
Why care?
It's not like anyone is there
To hear you cry out for help
Or to see you reach out desperately

So you sit there and you cry

Until the one you truly love comes along
To pull you back from the depths of the hell within your head

If you fold up your paper,
turn off your radio and TV,
sit on the steps and sip your tea,
watch the birds and speak no words
as the sun rises yellow and round,
making rainbows on the dewy lawn,
you could fool yourself into thinking
there’s no ****** war going on.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.