How heavy one's thoughts can be
When one's mind pulls them out to sea,
And floods of emotion spur the gale,
Cracking rudder and battering sail,
So fissures in the way one thinks
Widens as ship and psyche sinks,
And the cargo one is forced to bear
Drags them deeper into despair.
What was made clear by surface light
Shall fade in the depths of starless night.
Ever down into the cold and dark,
Crushing pressure shall assail one's heart,
And monsters from nightmares well known
Seek the intruder within their home;
As one tries in vain to hold one's breath,
While terrors consume 'till nothing's left,
And a hollow husk shall reach the bed
Who once was captain aboard one's head.

Although I am driven
   Loony by the very
     Existence of the double
       X-chromosomes that live
          Around me, I shall
            Never forsake those most
               Dear to myself, who in
                  Relation are more
                     Intertwined to one
                       Another than DNA.

                     Sometimes there are
                   Altercations which
               Maim our connection and
            Afflict onto us great
         Negativity, rotting the
      Tree we stem from.
   However, this bond shall not
Altogether disintegrate.

Sentiment throughout our
   House of blood helps to
      Alleviate countless
        Nights of conflict, which
           Never cease its constant
              Oscillation, even though
                 Nature has granted fit.

I met my love on a cloudless night,
Her face held features plain and pale,
Yet there was something to her glow
That held my attention in full;
I could not escape her radiance
And felt at once the world shift:
Her gaze could move the tides,
Yet she choose instead to drive me mad;
She left for her home to the west
As the rising sun cut short our time,
Will I ever see her again? Perhaps
If I return periodically, so will she.

Constellations twinkle red,
Bright sapphire crawls the grain,
Antique fibers crinkle dead,
Ashes, ashes, all the same.

Once build for conversation,
Fallen from it’s glamour days,
No tilt towards restoration,
Broken down by clamor blaze.

Center stage on warehouse floor,
Heavy price to match it’s weight,
Limb from limb the field mouse tore,
Fading fast in catch and grate.

Valued now as fuel for flames,
Piece by piece to fit the pile,
Atmosphere feels cool these days,
Burn the past and sit awhile.