I have tried over and over to mend the
broken pieces of a shattered love, rough
scarred hands cracking in the center of
chaos, twisting and turning, stretched
and stabbed, a banging beginning hovering
over nothing, as my eyes twitched back
and forth, trying to understand why the
waves of your love wouldn't settle down.
The whipping wind was beating my soul
into submission, drumming its slashed
rhythms upon my frame, dizzy vowels
smeared and struggling in black cold
rivers, while I stared at the ripped
portrait painting of us hanging on the
stained wall, smoky hues running off
course, crashing and undone,
unrecognizable negatives shifting
beneath wronged worlds.  I could see
your rusted brown eyes in my mind,
how every single shape sifted inside
blackened light, blurred, flooding gray,
a dying moon lingering in the sky.
I thought I could paint over your scratchy
surface and turn you into an astonishing
masterpiece.  But the more I gazed at
the scarlet blazed brushstrokes,
how their shadowed existence diminished
in the dark, how hard its surface stung
my flesh, I knew that everything between
us had vanished over the horizon.

I thought I had buried the pain beneath
the clouds, half-naked and floating,
a terrible vibration exploding into
immense hurricanes, savage knifed
thoughts drowning my flesh, saw
gashed, whip slashed, a ragged beaten
roadblock falling in drunken depths.
I could feel the cold splintering blade
slicing my neck, a suicidal slain beat
filled with swelling flames, crazy
unchanging borders broken, hammered,
shoved, a damaged ocean bleeding
in strangled waves.

Time is fleeting
Winter is weaving
Coming and leaving
Stunning the seething
Gunning and bleeding
Running from needing
Honeys for breeding

The rabid and bitter
Look for a babysitter
But find Hades’ River
In a shady grifter

A timeline
Sidelined
By bribe buys
And tribe lies
Of pride cries
Decides why
Defiled guys
Have wild eyes
And exile ties
With bile tides
Of vile vies
For a piece of the pie

Those who worship aggression
Follow their idiotic impressions
From charismatic rally sessions
Of one-sided lessons
Based on dejection
Contracting an infection
Preventing self reflection
Halting their progression
With thought deflection
For emotional protection

So the recent challenger
Is the event calendar
Becoming a pal ender
For the scowl senders
Who’re foul lenders
Or growl at tender
Tower menders

My debt’s share
Of fresh air
In death’s snare
Is best spared
But pests stare
With test glares
So I get scared
And let blare
My fret fair
Nightmare

This emergency
Of an inferno sea
Must be urgently
Purged from me
So I can see
The way to be
Hate free
And not flee
From interacting

But the clients and buyers
Are tyrants and liars
While times are dire
The pirates set fire
And hydrants retire
As the world perspires
And starts to expire
The heart of the empire
Has parked the choir
And sparked this mire
Into a funeral pyre

So I can only hope
This lycanthrope
Likened trope
Will not poke
The bear we host
Who cares the most
Of the scares of ghosts

This reason to sell
Season of hell
Treasonous spell
Deletes the smell
Of seeds that fell
Who need to tell
Their creed is well
Yet we see the intel
Warning they’re bitter incels

The dimmer mention
The sinners’ tensions
And interventions
As an interception
Of their own reflection
Not passing inspection
Like a class in detention
They mask their perception
With political inventions
To explain the inception
Of their constant deception

Alone without friends
They follow the trends
Of political bends
As they like to pretend
They’re here to defend
But our country descends
Into a dead end
Of a red blend
When the ref spends
All his time deafened

I think of a soul
consisting of many fragments,
all bursting to be released
and letting millions of thoughts
shine vibrantly.
They don't all have to make sense,
they don't all have to be original,
they just have to be true to me,
the me I chose to be,
the better one, the best one
out of all of them.
I have grown in many ways
and found amusement
in things I once shunned or thought against,
for instance, lying to myself
that everything is okay
but it's alright to do that because
if you make yourself believe
hard enough, then everything is,
and sometimes,
that's all that you really need,
having faith in a dreary, bustling,
forgetful world,
full of people who leave you behind
and people who pick you up
and take you to their
warm homes.
Bit by bit,
I've learned that change
isn't always a bad thing,
that some things are meant to happen
no matter how hard
you will them not to,
because it's your way of growing,
a forceful action wrenching open
clenched hands and
eyes squeezed shut, head afloat
ears trapping out all sounds,
then I realize
it was me all along
dragging myself down to lay on
a blanket of self-pity and isolation,
and change was
the only factor
with the ability to wrench open
closed doors.
Now I hear sounds that in turn
make me see, and seeing,
makes all the difference,
not just in black and white,
but also in vintage, sepia,
color.

I thought I could escape the dark
addiction inside my mind, like
all the drug and *** addicts in time,
lounging around behind closed
doors blazing a blunt to suppress
my inner thoughts, trying to find
my way in a room of grinning smiles.
There was a ghostly depiction crowding
my escape, the way it sunk inside
my strange shattering soul, letting its
creepy creation brainwash my frame,
letting its ragged surface crumble
my sweet escape.  I could feel the
pressure amplifying inside my diminishing
eyes, lost in empty worlds, conflicted,
torn, diverging between sexuality
and truth, existence and chemistry,
physics and philosophy, psychology
and physiology, all changing and tilting
in dangling rhymes.  I stared outside the
stained-glass window at the faded
faces passing my home in stranded
shadows, how the innocent lovers
walked in harmonious tunes across the
deep grey pavement, how the father
and son played basketball in such
exhilarating laughter, every part of
my heart sinking as I continued my gaze.  
There was a tangled rhyme inside
my leaking lips, blinded, silent,
swallowed in scarred crevices.  
As much as I wanted to escape
the pain inside inner being,
there was a strong sensation
pulling me back
into various worlds that
I could not let go.

Back then, when it was
just you and me cruising
the streets on a summer
escape, the radio blasting
Biggie Smalls song, Juicy,
while we bopped our heads
to the beat, hypnotic hands
waving in the air, sunlit skies
smiling in sight, upbeat vibes
surrounding the landscape,
as I breathed in the afternoon
breeze, beautiful melodies
dancing in stardust dominions.  
I gazed over at your gleaming
depiction, almond bronze skin,
a magnificent mural beyond
my emerald heart, sweet rosy
cheeks a world of many desires,
ocean eyes a midnight wave of
poetry in sheer perfection.  
How was I to know that you were
the bright beginning in my existence
that would unchain the flames inside
my frame, the one shining star that
saw beyond a fading shadow,
a blossoming beauty waiting to
rise out of the ashes.

I remember the day when you
stepped into my life and
changed the bitter memories
into something new.

Back then, all I knew was
anger and pain, relentless
painstaking music sinking
shattered beings.

And I could feel the thickened
beats thumping inside my soul,
smoky flames reminding me
that I would never escape the pain.

But when I thought my life was
over, you came in and made me
a brand-new person.  You will
forever hold a special place in
my heart.  You are my hero.