If creation
were simple,
it would be boring.

Contradictions,
internal and  external,
the garlic
of existence:

Pass me that clove!
- mce

I'd steal and I'd bleed,
for a couple hours rest.
I'd probably **** a man,
for just one at best.
And when I say rest,
I don't intend to describe sleep.
Rather just a night,
without ghosts in my dreams.
Sans ominous themes,
I'd even be pleased,
if tomorrow never came and the nightmare would cease.

Shameful a past, often reminded
Lest she forfeit the pain that's behind her
How can a Mother hear so much?
Of her mistakes instead of her touch
Love runs so deep for the child she bore
The one who scorns and slams the door

No way to change what's been done
No way to stop, no where to run
What is the reason to see me burn?
What is to gain but making me squirm?
If I could change the past then I would
Take it all back and make it all good

But all she can do is what she did then
Cry these tears and live it again
Forgotten were the days of a mother's care
Of baths, and stories, and fixing her hair
The nights spent with fevers
Now she has trouble to remember either

Surely her tears will never wash clean
The words that were meant to cause her such pain
They are etched in her heart forever to stay
For all those mistakes this is her pay
To spend her life, the rest of her years
Attempting to redeem a Mother's Tears

Unto you, my only love, I bestow pearls laced with spider's silk.

the time spent wishing my past was written in pencil
cause this permanent marker ain't cutting the ties that wrap around my throat like tentacles from the darkest parts of my mind choking out all the light with the suction of a black hole, or my mothers love that shined so bright through those beautiful lips, but fell short with action.

If I make the statement “I want to die”
Would you even bother to ask why?

“Why not die”
I would reply

There is no reason I should stay
Just to suffer one more day

To live in grief and misery
Pain and anguish smother me

It doesn’t seem so hard to choose
Either way I’m destined to lose

I think I should just take my life
I need to make sure I do it precisely right

One mistake and here I will stay
If they find me alive, they will put me away

Here comes a nurse, where the heck am I?
Am I alive, or did I already die?

I am seeking
a Mechanic
to mend my heart.
She must be
adept, versatile
and competent.
Hopefully,
she will listen
to Scarlatti
while she works.
She will need
to carefully
disassemble the
damaged vessel
and be able
to reassemble it
whole and intact.
Can't pay much,
but other benefits
are available.
I have tried
Craig's List, Ebay
and the yellow pages.
So far, no luck.
Oh where have all
the Mechanics of Love
disappeared?
Call me,
if you know one.
  - mce

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind
  As man’s ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
  Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh **! sing, heigh **! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
        Then heigh **, the holly!
        This life is most jolly.

      Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
      That dost not bite so nigh
        As benefits forgot:
      Though thou the waters warp,
      Thy sting is not so sharp
        As friend remember’d not.
Heigh **! sing, heigh **! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
        Then heigh **, the holly!
        This life is most jolly.