exhausted with crying
obsessive thoughts of dying
these tears
will eventually
run my soul dry
in this drought called life
I am destined to die

A group of friends,
A gathering,
Overlapped
And away,
Persists
Where all know all
With,
"You think you know me?"
In the all too honest background.

An answer to the above –
Our assumed empathy exists,
When truthfully
It truthfully eludes -
"You think I know you?"

"I"
Or rather the
"We" in the "here"
And "now" -
A lesser form,
And not our truest,
Hides the "real" and deep within.

Each has a pain,
Relatively at least
And perhaps our only concrete notion
Of who the "other" is.
A non-biological truth
Founded upon
A shared organic ancestry
Where
The skeletons in the closet
Translate as -
Lacks of ambition,
Ambiguous futures (at best),
Swept away addictions
And tears in the night,
Torture.

We shed our daily frown,
For a fake smile,
A facsimile
And play for the pains we do not share.
It’s a place
Where the hidden words,
The bad words,
The blasphemous words
Slip -
"Help me!"
And just as quickly
Retract -
"Never mind."

We hide it deep
And hide it well,
Because it's when it's
Shared
That we become what we try to
Avoid -
Attached
And in fear of losing
Each other.

Thus remains –
The ******* of perception.
As we hold to this
State of confused,
Or concussive,
Happiness.
And only later will we all cry,
As we've all gone home
And alone.

Without a shielded case surround his head
The revving world would never say what’s said.
How sweet he lives beneath a clouded lie
But laughs and writes and shuts his mother’s eye.
In blackened caves and cracking creeks he’ll speak
Of God and all that shares a curious peek.
A creased lovely nose points to dragons, toads
A day he’ll know as he plugs in sharp codes.
Almond eyes search for a will to mean
Peach doors compose the thoughts and glittery sheen
Of winter. A waxing sled moves, becomes
The symbol of his wild broods, his beckoned drums.
Dear brother, know that spirits may be guides
Toward murdered praises that the earth betides.
What will he have in place of past sorrow
A heartache of untouched grace thumping through
He’ll leave beside the road curved up above
Whispered dirt and moonlit walks, cloaked to shove
The speech buried around his head, uncased
The memoir of his name, once known, erased.

A dog is a dog is a dog,
And of the dog is for the dog.
But if one is of another kind,
Who to the lion spirit his soul bind,
Then this one lies, as if in a fog,
to the discriminating eyes of a dog.

I’ll take two minutes’ time,
A dare to make a rhyme.
I don’t know what to say,
But somehow I’ll find a way
To grab the words I need,
With all good speed.
I don’t know why I care,
Or why I take this dare;
Turn my brains around,
To make a lovely sound.
It’s just a game with me,
I do it naturally.
What better thing to try,
To keep my mind spry?
I only had two minutes,
But there! I did it.

She walks alone, defiant
in clothes as black as night 
hiding her heart in shadows
never seeing light
she kicks at life and lovers past
and picks at healing scars
she'll talk to you in riddles
and hide behind her 'art'
she fears the darkest deeds within
her  blackened, broken heart. 

She has need of nobody
that's how she makes it seem
and only few will ever know
the glory of her dreams
but if she lets you come inside
she'll beg you not to stay
as love is never hers to keep
and every heart must stray

She'll push you to your limits
as you sink into her skin
her passion overflowing
with sweetest velvet sin
but when the game is over
she'll lay sated on your chest
then lock her heart away once more
at her haunted soul's behest.