My bedroom is the most peaceful, and my all time favourite place.

Yeah, I am growing old.

there used to be a time that when people asked me about you
i'd turn into a tomato, blushing when i talk about you
my lips curve into a smile
when your name
leaves my lips

my stomach turns and my heart pounds
people could see my eyes glisten with joy

you made sense to me then

yet now

my stomach feels empty
when your name leaves my lips

eyes filled with tears instead of joy
my heart aching when i talk about how much
i love you
wait
how much i
loved
you

now

after two years
im still hung on you
waiting for the chance to be seen
to be loved
by you

once more

- a.l.

at anchor
now

anchored
shifting sands

moving
with tides

tied to
a moon

for love
and succour

wrapped around
a sun

too hot
to touch

up anchor
move on

sail into
space

The tender warmth
Small kisses, just a taste?
Warmth begins to singe
Soft safety holds you down
Tearing at flesh
Grit, sand, dry- all overwhelm the senses
Skin peels away
Muscle burns to ash, blowing away in the wind
Skeletal contraptions, lurking.
Only one left.
Ribs cage what words could not
Concrete and cold
Nothing to Nothing.

I torn between to parts of myself.
Ones that contradict.
One that believes in beauty, and love, and hope.
Another that holds pain close and a blade even closer.
If someone looked at me they would never see the later.
When I see so much good in the world,
why can only write poetry and sing songs about the hate,
and fear, the anger, the dread, the haunting Voices of the night.
What part of myself is real,
and if i was addicted to happiness instead of misery
would it still matter?

Vine grows through the cracking stone
and vibrations form the runes in bone
The mist that gathers on my sword
Calls my eyes to the valkerie songs
Whispering to my dripping blood
I shall see my forever home

The earthy smells are rich and aromatic
I quake as I call for wisdom and strength,
My right eye burns and I see
My leather is worn and comfortable
the fire crackles and sparks fly
with every stoke beneath the spit

A pair of wolves in the distance look in my direction, entering an ancient forest. I don't notice the raven pair in the distance watching. I shiver as I feel the green energy growing in me and eolh is calming as I carve it into wood. I am the fire.

Me;
With my too-tiny to look intimidating frame,
but my picture is so much bigger than any wooden cage
you could try and house me in.

You;
With your blank stares and too-cool-to-care attitude
brushing me off, sweeping me under the rug.
I will not take a permanent place collecting dust.

Us;
A scratched record that is loved
for a favorite song that lasts long enough
before skipping over the damage.
If only you hadn't been so rough.

people who use their religion to work 'miracles'
on the bodies
and end up dying
do not understand the reason why we have science.
science is for the body, the world, building and medicating
religion should not be applied to any of those things
religion is the medication of the mind and heart
it is the cure for the soul,
the formula for mental stability
the chemical balance of self-control
it is not a treatment for cancer, polio, or ***
it is a treatment for sadness, hatred, and confusion
both religion and science are:
correct when used correctly
lethal when used inappropriately
violent when misconstrued.
science can damage the soul like nothing else
and religion can destroy the body
they are both useful and good in their own right,
but terribly, terribly dangerous
and should be treated as such.