I tell her that tomorrow
Slides slowly to meet my
Familiar night.

That the changes are few
And subtle. I am OK, I say,
Face still cold from last night's

Pavement.
Truth is I'm terrified.
Heartbroken and soaked in

Myself, clinging to the past with
One hand, fighting its demons
With the other. Terrified.

Embracing my inner
Earthling. Loathing it.
Terrified. Loving it.

I used to think I was only human.
Now I
Know.

Sometimes at night

asleep by the firelight

I dream about them

how they died

some are singing

and others saying what

they no longer see

walking fencelines

limping as if in pain

some of them handsome

and some mysterious

silent but not

for long they tell you

men scarcely know

how beautiful fire is

and old stories

they can't remember

unless you can

still look them in the eye.

I've discovered Hell, and the truth is,
It isn't a place you go, it's a sickness.
It resides within your bones
And its scaffolding is made from trauma.
The only fire you'll find is from the white-hot flashbacks
That leave you drenched in sweat that smells like smoke.
No-one lives there except you and your enemies,
And your enemies are fragments of history, unable to be killed.
Your mind is the devil that subjects you to punishment
That you can't help but be convinced that you deserve,
And escape is a notion kept only for tears;
Everything else remains trapped.
Hell is being held within the cage of your own body
And killing yourself trying to break free.

No matter what, I won't let go of you.
You make my winters warm and my summers so memorable.
The second I hear you speak to me
I scurry for a pen and let you out through the ink on the sheets.
Already written on the walls inside my head,
I let you out so that I may not be so stressed.
You're therapy, the air I breathe; they'll always hear you when I speak.
You're like calm waters for a heart that's filled up with raging seas,
and that's how we connect, the magnetism so deep that I let you do the pulling as I let the pen bleed.
There's no difference between this blood and ink, within both life is carried.
So when the flow stops don't burry me, burn me along with my word's
and throw my ashes into a swift wind,
So I can be heard across the universe, and speak to those whose inner worlds are listening.