Some days I tread in the madness of my head.

Squirming tentacles of loathing with staining black ink.

Skittering crawling legs of anxiety darting and buzzing.

Black oily fog of depression chocking and weighing me down.

Whispering racing thoughts babbling and overlapping as a crowd.

Swollen infection of frustration gummed up and fit to overflow.

Stinging rash of anger rasping my throat with silent screams.

Dull heavy ache of resentment weighing in my chest making me weary.

These are the fiendish ingredients of my mind's cauldron, my stew of madness.

Some days I can bring fire inside and burn it all away, but the charred remains fester and come back.

Some days I can find a friend and shine a light inside, but this only halts the rot and reminds me of everything there.

Maybe someday I'll resolve this malady, answer the question.

Find someone with light to see, fire to burn, and care to sit by me as I heal.

Or grow old enough to take it all with ice and salt for my husk.

Those who look at me would be surprised,
by the hunger that I hide,
the hunger of my lust.

A daily want, a desire, a need,
to hold, squeeze, and please,
the burning under my skin.

The craving to touch and caress,
the yearning to kiss and bite,
the ache to engage over and over again.

The sighs and moans like a sweet melody,
hold her through her high a pleasure,
making her know the hunger of my lust.

To trail my kisses and seize her breath,
to worship her body and pleasure repeatedly,
to make my name her prayer.

A bite to claim her,
a mark to remind her,
a night to undo her.

Tongues entwining and *******,
hands roaming and massaging,
hips grinding and declaring the hunger of my lust.

My fingers inside her pumping and pressing,
my mouth stealing her gasps and cries,
sending her to the peak till she shakes.

My length spearing her and burning her from within,
on her back, her front, and under her,
rubbing and filling her until she cries and I release yet still crave.

My want to please her and make her shake and gush,
my desire to give and thank her for satisfying,
my need to sate the hunger of my lust.

Sky of steel, dull grey,
polished silver, and aged black.

Rain like cool tears, morning dew,
letting go, and washing away.

Veins of lightning, powerful yet brief,
explosive like thought, and pure like fire.

Roaring thunder, ringing hammer fall,
echoing in bones, and sudden like a gunshot.

Nature's wrath, world's fury,
untamed by man, and carrying us away.

There they wander,
lost, mourning and weeping.

Under a red sun ever-bleeding,
under a sky veiled by smoke,
under a dull moon without luster.
Over everburning cities and thirsty fields,
over blasted mountains and mired seas,
over dark oceans hiding twisted wrecks.

Drifting in burning wind on ashen wings,
over bones long-since become dust,
tears like rain, salting the ruins.

Abandoned angels on a dead world,
guardians with none they could save.

What you see is my mask,
so who are you to judge me?
Do  you feel up to the task,
of puzzling out what you don't see?

Your kind are confounding,
never staying the same,
your ways are disturbing,
atrocities and puzzles too many to name,
your manners are vexing,
chattering and spreading unable to tame.

I watch you to try and understand,
silently questioning and trying,
to suit the norms and meet the demand,
mimicking the behavior and the talking.

I don't fit in among you,
doubt I ever will,
though I meet my due,
and continue to try still.

My appearance is an act,
my smile and grin fake,
so much I forget the fact,
it is of my own make.

So tell me what you see,
when you look and think,
what kind of person I must be,
though the answer may make my heart sink.

How would you describe me?
How do I seem to you?
Do you understand what you see?
How much of it is true?
Is it my true face?
Is it what you thought you knew?
Does it match your taste?

Do you see me?
Do you see the toll?
Of who I must be,
and the truth of my soul.

Do you see me,
a glance or a trace,
of my heart free?
Of my real face?

I wish I knew,
Who I was,
to me and you.

She was my first love,
someone I thought came from above.
Her arms made me feel alive,
filled the hole I have inside.

Her kiss was sweet and eager like fire,
it consumed me and filled my heart with desire.
She was my air and made me feel whole,
after empty lonely years jeering children stole.

I joined a cause and way of life,
to provide for her and be worthy,
not for respect or to stop pointless strife,
to be strong and make her happy.

I gave her everything I could with what I had,
jewelry, flowers, poetry, dates,
more than admitted to receiving from her family and previous mates,
affection, desire, and someone to care when she was sad.

Many times I had to leave,
to do my duty and earn my keep,
on an isolated ship and over vast seas,
with aching heart and restless sleep.

Weeks of silence from her constantly broke my heart,
I craved her words and attention,
I thought she too hated us being apart,
that she too missed touch's sweet sensation.

Many times she tried to end us,
said I wasn't what she wanted anymore,
that us staying in contact wasn't a must,
that she was busy and I was something she had to ignore.

I was blind and young,
thought I was at fault and to blame,
that she didn't mean the words that stung,
thought that mine and her feelings were the same.

I always convinced her to stay,
thought I could fix the hurt,
until that one horrid day,
she confessed to never loving me and thinking I was lower than dirt.

I was empty again and full of pain,
consumed with despair and flickering anger,
thought the loneliness would drive me insane,
and after a while I began to hate her.

Time has passed and I have healed,
we don't talk anymore,
no more attempting to revisit a time lost and sealed,
my heart is scarred and sore.

After all of it I thank her,
she showed me the worst I have felt,
what I can withstand and endure,
and I've learned from what I've been dealt.

I have what you can never buy,
a big and strong heart,
so I will survive,
no matter how many times it is torn apart.

Today I feel nothing for her,
she is silent and far away,
I thank her,
there are no more words left to say.

Come dear friend I must take you away,
to a place beyond sorrow and dreams.
Come dear friend we should not delay,
in this place of ephemeral remembrance.
Follow me dear friend I'll show the way,
past all the confusion and grief.
Do not weep dear friend you cannot stay,
or you'll be lost in your despair and pain.
Quiet dear friend you'll see them again someday,
when they too find their eternal piece.
Come dear friend we're nearly past the grey,
and soon you'll want no more.