I want you to know
I'm sick of the way
I treated you back then
And wanted to ask
How have you been?

I had a dream
Where you were my friend
But you had to learn
How to trust me again

While the dream is fading
Details don't survive
The storyline is missing
But I remember very well
The ocean of turmoil in your eyes
And I remember very well
How you lingered
When I said my goodbyes

A hint of blue lit up her hair
Who was this dark beauty
Who just stepped out of nowhere
Who was this punk creature
A pierced face, so fair?

She tries to look mean
But she doesn't know
What I have been
The things I lost
The things I have seen

My gaze passes hers
And a moment I am paralized
As I know
She too realized
I'm in awe

This secret we now share
Me and the beautiful,
Punk, mean looking girl
And her blue hair

I do not evade
Nor shun
Visions crude
That come to aid
My drafting pen
And chaperone
To creativities den

Cause I know
Yes I know
My darkest thoughts
Will form a poem

The clock was ticking.
I sat waiting for a miracle from God.
At the end of a lifetime, it dawned upon me.
It was the ticking of the clock.

There in the belly of the city
Way down there where it's dark and gritty
Lives a very complexe man
There in his Window he stands
Watching the atrocities that parade down his street
He's seen the dealer's and the junkies meet
The homeless that set at their feet
The thugs that prey on the weak
Children abused that turn them meek
It plays out every day of the week

He's seen it all
He's watched humanity fall
It's hard for him to digest
On this life's problems his mind rest
He knows there's not much that he can do
He watches and writes it all down, he's one of the few
Sent to bear witness to the inhumanity of man
To make us think of where in this life we stand

Yes he is a poet
His watched it all and wrote it
He has a big heart
Which makes it hard to play his part
Of watcher in the tower
As those below cower
But his calling he is sure of
To watch the dying of love
To watch the darkness closing in
To watch all of man's sin
To sound the alarm
Of humanity going wrong

He stands at his Window and cries out
But no one pays attention to his shouts
So he soaks the page with ink and tears
Hoping that at last somebody hears

she checks her teeth in the door glass of the oven.

the egg is dropped
and the owl
******.

My therapist always tells me that one day I will be grateful for the fact that I can empathize more than the typical person, assures me that the need to place myself in others shoes is a privilege, not a curse. But how many miles can you walk in other's shoes before you collapse from always being on the move? How long does it take before the lines begin to blur between support and codependency? How many people do I have to help before my existence feels valid? Will someone else please take a turn bearing the cross because I've grown tired and it's time for me to rest.