I sat not really sure what was on my mind
Was it the cold night with shivers threw my spine
Or was it a bunch of things going threw my artistic mind

Now I realized I was overthinking such a simple question
But there so much I could mention

I could talk about the stars I see out my window
Or maybe that movie I watched earlier with the widow

But instead I over thought and soon forgot
What original was my penny for thought

She is trapped in her head filled with dreams and nightmares.
Sometimes she falls into a deep despair.
A life of happiness is what she craves;
Before she’s dug beneath her grave.
What was once a reality is now in the pass;
Yet it still suffocates her like a thick toxic gas.
She screams out in silence for her Utopia.
Hoping to escape all her phobias
Her dreams held so much potential.
But her nightmares were more confrontational
If only she knew what she was capable of
Maybe she would be able to fly up above
Up above all her nightmares
And conqueror all her fears
But instead she’s drowning
Drowning in tears.

Have you the slightest idea of what
It's like to have a person you love
dissolve into madness?

He dove in head first to a bottomless
pit of insanity.
& no matter how much we try.
We can't even send him a memory of
what the sun used to looks like.

Let's say you have a different outlook on life,
& the people you love most tell you it's not real.
That you're demented,
and everything you see as real isn't.

Then arises the question:
If perception is key, when does it become a reality?
What is real?

& if physics is correct,
this is all just a probability.
If so, then why does it hurt so much?

he was always told not to be afraid of the Big Bad Wolf;
the big bad wolf and his big bad claws and his big bad fangs and the wicked way his eyes would gleam r e d in the dark.
do not be afraid,
                           liebling, his mother would say,
brushing his hair from his forehead before kissing him goodnight.
he would curl under the covers,
                                                         ­ curl in,
                                                                ­        curl in,
                                                                ­                     curl –

oh, no.

do not be afraid of the big bad wolf, he tells himself,
staring at his mother’s coffin as it is lowered slowly into the ground.
(it was not an open casket. could not be an open casket. her lip was split and swelling and the bruise over her eye was too dark to cover and his father’s knuckles are still red and raw to the touch.)
do not be afraid of the Big Bad Wolf,
but when his father lays a meaty hand on his shoulder and squeezes,
                                                       ­                                                                 ­   he shivers.

“i am not afraid of the big bad wolf,” he says into the mirror,
staring at his own split and swelling lip.
he meets felix and loves felix and does not bring felix home with him –
until the day that he does.

“he’s not the big bad wolf anymore,” felix says when he tells him what he’s done.
his clothes are rank with smoke and burning flesh,
                                                          ­                                and he remembers his mother, and the closed casket at her funeral.
“i know,” he says, straightening his tie.
(this casket is closed, too.)

there is no such thing as the big bad wolf,
not now, not today, not when the time for fairy tales has long since passed.
now, his hands itch for a gun,
now, his fingers itch to pull the trigger,
now, he is restless and he is ****** and he is a criminal.
(who’s the big bad wolf now?)

“my father was a monster. and so are you. and so am i.”
his funeral will be a closed casket, too. he smiles.
                                                                ­                       kala weeps.
he sticks the gun in his back pocket and thinks of his mother.
do not be afraid,
                            liebling.
i am not, he wants to tell her. i am not. not anymore.

(but still he sleeps with the gun beneath his pillow still he dreams of retribution from hands dripping with blood still he wakes and forgets that he is safe still he breathes and is afraid, deep down, is afraid of the wolf he has become.)

Shards of glass, they are pieces of The broken past.
All the while, my brain is disintegrating.

While love has a lack of radiating, it sure knows how to sedate you.
Stage one of figuring out, is learning how to levitate off the ground, no need to come back now.

Raised up, aligned with signs warning me I'm far behind.
Reaching for other sides, because so far it is too black and white.

Diamonds are a girl's best friend
Right.

Cut like diamonds
Slit
Grind like diamonds
Smack
Take like diamonds
Rush

Driving in like a hammer
Your pick into my skull
Jaw split, Achilles rip
Fall to the ground
Then you are crowned

Diamonds are a girl's best friend.

My blood is racing.
Dancing hot and lacing
Drugs with love and then facing
What it means to be
A diamond.

Diamonds are a girl's best friend.

With each deed
I die
With each bite
I lie
With each breath
I fly.

Why are diamonds a girl's best friend?