Not the thickest canopy
of the deepest forest
can stop the sun
from seeping
for the bark to root to a spot of soil
to be lit by the morning sun
and for it to cry when the dusk be slipping in
no canopy can stop the mighty star
but remember now
as the sun comes down
the canopy stops most of its warm embrace
only a measly amount of the sun lands down
but alas when the rain starts pouring down
every drop of it will seep through to the heart.
and make the woods soggy.

silently being drowned in the sands of the broken castles
silently being torn to shreds by roots ripping to its core
as rock withered to sand and seed grown to its limb
like a cancer it slithers through the bedrock and body
the streams are her teardrops quenching the parasites
paralyzed by her generosity she sits on the molten
when the rains try to wash her and and the winds try to cool her
we men try to rid her right that was born before us all
to be in her peaceful slumber and let us live on
we Gush out her blood and use it for our motors
we nail her in cruxifixction with our tall nails of concrete
we tear her and mine her flesh for our beauty
and in time slowly dying she silently bares the burden we rested
upon her body as a master would do
why must we enslave our mother who forged us.
and tortue her for our amusement

the slender knife between his eyes
and the dripping crimson dew
flapping of the ravens feather
drenched in the sound of silence
as the thunder echoes what she cannot speak
his hands tied together
in prayer to the empty heavens
whom no one has set foot upon
his eyes open but his sight has been seen
and a secret to his grave-less burial he shall take
who did he see in this burnt paper town
and why did he die for its cause
and in his hand his paper blots
to the river of sewage beneath the street
to the heavy cries of the dark clouds
that bare no more a silver lining
where his paper bleeds not far different
from the man who is losing his ink.

I cannot tell if my heart is unjust
I cannot tell If I am alive
I cannot tell if I have a choice
I cannot tell if my words are worthy
I cannot speak although I have a voice
is it fait that I was given
a faintest of a chance to live
for I have not done a difference
and my words are undone
by any fellow that claims he's me
Do I have a personality
behind this mask I've been hiding behind
im scared the mask is my true own self
and once I remove it
I wont be alive.

I tilt my head in reassurance
for the flowers wilt and die
yet another will be risen tomorrow
and the birds again will fly
through dusk and dawn this cycle of life
predictable yet we are surprised
when I am born I didn't ask to be
and tomorrow I might die
but all is well for tomorrow
will come
and then the birds will sing again
and the flowers shall bloom in fragrance
and the sun will fill my heart
but the sun lived its last breathe
and its last flicker of light shone
as a mirage of a typical sunset
and a death with a hope for a life
and the planets crumble
and the moons decay
and tomorrows bud that will never bloom

I am frustrated.
I am at fault.
I am not at fault.
I am trying but
I am wasting away.
I push forward
But you push back.

And I am so confused
Together? Apart? What do we do?
Place blame
Take blame
Ignore the fact that it happened?
Continue forward
Move on
But together or separate?

What is deserved?
My wallet
My livelihood
My cigarettes and gas money?
My heart
My feelings
My emotions
My body?

Push it to the limits
But what for? For us? For you? Is it worth it?
For you. For this.
Why?
Your worth?
Your heart and mind and soul?
Can we make it
Or will we break?

The emptiness
It consumes me
Like the dark consumes the light
And the sadness consumes the happiness
As dawn turns to dusk
And the nightingales sing their sweet melody
I pray to God
That one day we shall be reunited
Six feet under the ground
When my Inner demons will have taken over me
Just as yours let you slip away on your bedroom floor