What do you see when you look at me?
When within your eyes you reflect my soul.
What do you taste when you kiss me?
I taste the burning passions that are now cold.

What million thoughts go through your mind?
When the words I love you sprout from my lips.
What countless secrets did your heart bind?
When it was someone else holding your hips.

What won't you tell me when you hold back?
Why is silence better my dear?
What did he do that hurt you so bad?
Why do you cry or what do you fear?

What was so wrong when I kissed you last night?
You quickly moved back and covered your self,
What darkness within you extinguished your light?
You've been hurt darling that's easy to tell.

I don't expect you to share your past,
I promised to love you that much is true,
I'm not your first but I'll be your last,
know pretty girl I'll be here for you.

There's a slumber party in the cemetery going on,
yet here I am trapped in my bed all by my own.
There are dressed up corpses shaking in their caskets,
while I lay here like an apple in a basket.

The concerto of hell is playing tonight,
and in the rings of fire there's a fight.
The cadavers are all dancing till they rot,
I may as well place my head inside a knot.

To the six feet under ball is where I'm going,
tonight I let the rivers of blood start flowing.
This year's monster mash I cannot miss,
so good bye I wave you with a kiss.

You can come too and I'll get you a matching casket;
common now all you got to do is ask it!

If I could take back time,
from my chronic back;
if I could regain,
the things I now lack.

I would turn the tide,
so I could heal my scars,
and regain the life,
lost behind this bars.

If I could take back time,
and be young again,
I'd return what's mine,
all I should have gained.

I would've slowed my pace,
or walked a different hall.
So I could face the face,
in the mirror wall.

If the sands of time,
had blown a different way:
If society cared for my kind,
I wouldn't have sailed away.

I'd take that second chance,
to start again back home.
I'd dance a different dance,
and do the things I didn't do,
But know now I should've done.

The moon sideways smiled at me,
but on the harbor it reflected the sadness I felt.
The ocean looked so vast and mysterious tonight,
almost as a clue begging to be discovered.

The pocketwatch under my shirt beat to my heart;
but I knew well the batteries were dying out.
My car behind was out of fuel,
there was no way back.

I had traveled far too many miles,
too many to walk,
too many wrong turns.

I could find a ride and be home by sunrise,
may be you'd still be there underneath the blankets;
but you swore I was out of time,
it was better to forget you.

To get you out of my head.

It's too late now,
there's no way out.
The moon cried beneath the sea,
and the shore looked so vast and mysterious tonight,
almost as a clue begging to be discovered.

The metal rails were cold and wet,
too slippery now to regret:
But I think I got it right this time.
Maybe if I don't exist,
you won't either.

It happened unexpectedly,
one second everything was fine,
then suddenly it all went quiet.
Cries could be heard three streets down,
fractures bones and totaled cars captured the moment best.
Within minutes first responders arrived,
four patrol cars,
three ambulances,
two firetrucks,
one dead man.
I sat up from my vehicle,
with pain running down to my toes,
the officers were walking up and down the vehicles taking records,
meanwhile the firemen with the help of the paramedics tried to get the hurt people out of their cars.
I waited as they made their way down to my car, so they could pop this darned seatbelt of off my chest;
but they didn't stop at my vehicle,
"This one's gone!" yelled the medic to the sargeant.
I could swear that's what he said, even with the aching pain in the back of my head numbing my ears.
I watched them walk away to the next vehicle through the rearview mirror,
then I saw my reflection, I could not see myself, just a swollen ****** head resting on the car side.

They crowd us in hallways,
arrange us in chairs;
we're sheep for the killing,
brains for the mix.
We're all brainwashed idiots,
slaves for the few.

We're sat in long tables,
and fed tasteless meals;
just as prisoners do,
except theirs is edible.

We're given false hopes,
and stuffed with fake promises;
still we believe them.
We call them professionals,
yet they call us novices.

They're killers of art,
of music and poetry:
Our talents they drown,
to make us all equal,
and our compensation,
is a cap and a gown.

But once in a while,
when a free spirit is born,
they accuse him a rebel,
a free spirited fool,
they abuse him, and use him,
till he's cut up and torn.

Still we smile and bark,
like the sad dogs we are.
But does nobody see this?
What's been done is a crime,
a ******, a sin that took time.
The accused and conviction:
It is the school that killed the nation.

He sat to my right in class,
never did much,
he simply wrote through the lesson,
maybe that's why he couldn't pass.

He spoke of limericks and sonnets,
he loved haikus and free verse;
he liked talking but hated listening,
so he always failed the tests.

He told me he published a book,
in fact I saw it, placed on his desk.
I asked if I could take a look,
maybe then he'd let me rest.

He kept on talking even then,
wouldn't let me hear the lesson,
but I did not want to offend,
so I smiled till the end.

He failed the class my poet friend,
but I heard he had another book,
he goes by selling it to public libraries,
maybe one day I'll take a look.