when I began to write
poetry
all those years ago

I was amazed to find
that I even
had a voice.

It was a gift
that I never
hoped for.

I only shared light.

There is too much
darkness.

And then
little by little
I had to write
about the monsters
in the deep.

And my writing
got to be
unrecognizable.

Those couldn't be
my words.

Don't bury me
in a grave
in a big old box
I've known too much
darkness.

And so here I am
trying to balance
injury
with hope for a new future

That may be called
healing.

Sharp shards
Shine on
Cracked glass thoughts
Of you
Cut my fingers
& transcendence
Took over
I wrote us
In sticky scarlet

The sweetest pill
with a bitter coating

Get through the hard part
then you'r floating.

If I could borrow your sorrow for a day.

Every thought,
every action,
every word said,

Not just in your head.

How will you rate,
the movie of your life?

Dancing alone,
music takes me over,
no distractions,

At the right moment,
everything's transgressed,
time is someone else's concept.

I love
that you
love

The things
that you
love

Even if I don't

Could you do the same for me?

If yes

What great lovers
we
could
be....

Inhale my nostril,
Give/take life
For
From
Me.

Young Adam
Made of self

Of other,

How long
Such generation
Re-makes
A man

Lonely
Seeking to belong
But intimidated by peers
Alone was in my world
The walls were my best friend
And in the paintings do I find solace
For I am rejected
And treated like an outlaw
Even in my mother's home