The frustration you get
When you wake up in the middle of the night
And can't fall back to sleep.

You look at the clock,
Hoping,
It'll soon be time to get up.
But then you realize
It's not even near that time.

It's like the sun knows when you're awake and,
Just to be a ******,
Takes its time coming up.

So you lie there...
Trying to get some rest.
You squirm and change positions,
But still...
Nothing happens.

You begin to think about
Your life,
Your future,
The world,
Everything...

Then, all the bad thoughts become worse.
You think...
Maybe something might happen,
Or something may already have happened.

You try harder to fall asleep,
But you can't stop.
Can't stop thinking.
And you feel...
Upset...
Overwhelmed...
And you can do nothing
to stop all the horrible thoughts from coming through.

Then you're at the stage where now,
Your thoughts aren't coming in patterns anymore.
They scatter...
Like a nebula.

So you lie there.
You've given up.
You feel hopeless...
Like no one could ever help you.
So you just wait...
Wait for everything to be over.

One night I lay my head down to sleep the night away,
I wake up a few hours later to the sound of heavy breathing,
I open my eyes and all I could see was my father blinding me,
He was on top of me,
Twisting me,
Turning me,
Thrashing me around,
It hurt me to see him moving up and down,
  I tried to shove him off but he was to strong,
Tears rolled down my cheeks as the pain went on,
I tried to scream but I could not,
He shoved a sock down my throat so deep to the point that I almost could not breath,
  But then it happened I felt it too,
His ***** was in me he better just **** me now,
Cause my teen years are going to be hell,
Pregnant with my father’s baby my life is over now,
He will be in jail,
I will be in therapy,
My baby will be messed up,
All because my father is a sick ****!

Kissing
and clawing.
Is it possible to devour a person with only your fingertips?

we're loving we're fighting we're feasting we're struggling.

We're pushing.
We're scratching the paint from all of the walls.

we're forgetting we're losing we're crumbling.

Confronted by reason,
we fall to pieces.

It's funny.

We were so convinced
instead
we were supposed to pull each other back together
again.

Young One tries to hide her frowning face
I see the scars, the open sores,
Her hair hangs such away in place,
The world sees what she ignores.

Reality.

It has been a while since she had a fix,
Hood up, Eyes darting right and left,
Just looking like she'd been  in a conflict,
Width birth achieved, looking possessed.

Anti-society.

The other Older bends around to light her smoke,
head shielding the wind,  straggled hair showing,
She steps off the curb into traffic,  without a hope,
But the cars don't stop, loud honking and horn blowing.

Climactic.

Leaping back to the curb and looking up at the light,
in disbelief, swears a blue streak that it was her turn,
Defiant waves her smoke in her fist, it was "her right"
Paths about to cross, Past and Future, would they discern?  

The two come face to face, not recognizing, looking stern.

Anti-climactic.

Come toward me, seeker of fate, come,
And listen to my words as they flow,
Wrapping themselves around your being,
Singing the notes of the days to come.

Oh, seeker of fate, tell me,
Do these words entice you?
I see the cleverness in your eyes,
Surely you must understand them?

Think now, seeker of fate, of my words,
Do they bring you pleasure? Euphoria perhaps?
Or do they cause you despair? Possibly disappointment?
Could it be a little bit of both?

I address you, seeker of fate,
Who I, teller of fate, am genuinely curious,
Your fate, now written plain as day before you,
How does it feel to know?

The old man at the hospice
was in a world of pain.
His sight was gone,
his heart grew weak
and not much time remained.

I don't recall who asked the question,
but I was struck by his reply.
It contained a world of wisdom
from a soul about to die.

Someone had asked the dying man
"If wishes were for free-
and I could grant you one last wish
what would that last wish be?"

He didn't wish for fortune
He didn't lust for fame
He cared not a whit for money
or to escape his gnawing pain.

" I think, if I had one last wish
before my times gone by-
I'd be a babe in my mother's arms
and hear a lullaby."

" That would be a good way to pass
- not soaked in urined sheets-
but comfortably in Mother's arms
and gently rocked to sleep."

That very night the old man died,
He passed on in his sleep.
I hope he's in his mother's arms
with no more cause to weep.

We are bent, but not
broken.
Our bodies are old
tree stumps cut
down long ago,
but our hearts and
minds will stretch like
branches, reach towards the
stars that we'll
wear like late
cherry blossoms.
We are dried and
withered from years of
harsh words against our
skin, and battered
fists into our guts.
But, you and I, will
join together our
hands and intertwine our
fingers into limbs
a hundred strong.
We will stand taller than
they, upon hills and
mountain tops, higher than the
clouds that once blocked
our eyes.
We are the underdogs,
while they sit among their
riches and animosity.
But we are the ones who
will change this
world, dig up the
soil and plant the
remains of what little
good is
left in the
palm of
our hands.