Those entryways, the abrupt angled hallways, the familiar loose doorknob,
no longer feels like a home, but a hulking shell of empty memories.
The once shiny portraits of smiling kin are now caked with grime
while the coffee table is layered with dust denoting the time.
Cracks litter the kitchen countertop as if in reference to European trade routes.
The walk-in closet is still busted, just how Father intended.
In a past life time, the blood stains were thought to be wine,
but you can’t expect someone to consider that the house is covered with spills.

Eventually, they came..
Standardized outfits. Golden stars. Ranged enforcement. Stone cold faces.
They abducted the younglings, on the premise of humanly love,
fully expecting the backlash of threats, screams, and tears.
That was when the memories began to fade; the ties to bloodlines had all, but evaporate. A new last name and a new house,
but nothing could resemble the home that was lost: the various “wine” stains..

They were the closest thing I could remember of my Mother.

I should've seen this coming; I guess it was an inevitable moment.
The time has come where my most trusted friend,
my pen, refuses to listen. It's booming, vibrant voice soon turned
to fearful whispers and from there, only a solemn silence.
I stare at my Pilot G-2, longing for extravagant inspiration,
but the sudden rush of ideas only completes a stanza.
It's desperation at its most figurative finest; a hand reaching
out into the void, fully knowing that nothing can clasp your
callous laden palm. This is when the blank sheets sing victory
for they no longer have to feel my ritualistic, linguistic carvings
upon their soft skin. It's a bittersweet feeling to desire defilement
on a clean page, all on the premise of conveying my *******, since
it's the only "person" who can listen. I'm sorry, Paper. It's not your fault that I dump my problems on you.

I'm just a sick ****.

Relax your mind and let your muscles unwind.
You mustn't feel inclined to sexually grind,
for despite the unkind gestures from most of mankind,
my hands shall be resigned until the heart knows.
Only then shall my wrists be unconfined to hold you close.

The waves that crash amongst cliffs is music to my ears,
as if this is the personification of your beautiful mind.
where your years of tears meet the innermost fears.
Still, I shall adhere to sailing in this severe frontier
regardless of how unclear the storm may be.

We don't have to suffer from materialism or extravagance.
Add a spoonful of simplicity, a dash of altruism, and finally,
mix in two-thirds cup of realism: bake to happiness.
Now, serve to one another in the most private of occasions
to avoid any tampering from any alien perversive invasions.

The Night we met overlooking a city of technicolour beats
all past experiences; everything prior now undone.
I found that I'm not another hero lost to martyrdom,
and that this is what it feels like to step into the light of the sun,
for I see how the force is strong with this one

Am I the right piece that fits your life
or was I merely misplaced in the wrong box?
The shapes are starting to spread thin
and the puzzle is nearing completion.

There once stood a beautiful meadow where the tulips grew,
but the vibrant colors have wilted to a palish gray.
The appreciation for this natural serenity still exists,
but the love...the love is questionable.

Have you outgrown the nutrients that I provided
or is it simply the necessity to spread your seeds elsewhere?
I cannot and will not know the truth
for all I am left with is memorial remnants.

Questions were inquired as answers were sought
for you thought what you may have caught,
was a pseudo opportunity; a fraudulent jackpot.
With each of the prospect's responses, you formed
your own interpretations, determining which fits the slots.
You were relentless with curiosity; a mental onslaught.
You wanted to make sure you weren't caught in a blind spot.

Board games fill the mind to decipher if it's all a ruse.
Is this Monopoly or Risk? Checkers or maybe Chess?
Issue "Stop and Frisk" for the detainment is familiar
and it allows you to access and address the fears you have.
Profess your worry, express your stress, all in the name of progress.
All the while the prospect shall not digress.
Let the questions and answers compress and coalesce
so the faithfulness may fluoresce.

Cracks of past signs shall now align,
as if nature intended this design all along.
A straight line through the benign land mines,
a possibility you couldn't seem to define.
This juncture doesn't have to be on a fault line.
Dispel the notions of fear and embrace uncertainty.
The night is dark and full of the unknown, but it shall decline,
for your fires burn bright, little sunshine.

Within the deepest trenches of a mind so haunted by past failures and juvenile decisions,
I find little to no solace to ease the insanity that wreaks havoc on my psyche.
Innocent scapegoats to former lovers, a lack of accountability to an absence of courage;
Visions stroll past my eyes, reminding me of my inadequacy of responsibility.

It started with a dream, and it was swiftly confined.
Next came confidence, which slowly declined.
Thus, the hope who always dropped by, inevitably resigned.
It’s typical for people to pass the blame onto others,
But I like to remind my state of mind that it was I
Who left my friends behind.

I’d ask for forgiveness, but I don’t think such purity could be applied,
for an apology may equate to an excuse in the ears of the bruised.
It’s why I hide my words behind closed lips seeing as how
I can’t build a bridge over this great divide I ratified.

I’ll never forget you.
You, the one who I troubled with such pain.

Conversing through a brew, amongst neon lights
one would say shooting the **** about past fights.
There were cries of laughter and of sorrow.
All the while the night becomes darker
and yet, there wasn't a sense of tomorrow.

We decided to drive to the beach to unwind.
The stars were bright and endless; a way to unbind
our tangible selves from the frivolities of life.
It didn't matter how insignificant we really are;
we'll heal, we'll grow, we'll walk the north star.

Separate, but equal beds, we laid.
Asking the most random of questions,
a fetal vulnerability began to be displayed.
Ultimately, we solidified the charade that
in the next life, I'm a dolphin and she, a mermaid.

The following day, I was awoken by a pillow hitting my face.
I didn't want her to leave so I suggested lunch, she agreed.
Lesson learned: it's easy to pick a place when you erase your birthplace.
Initially, I thought our little muse would then diffuse,
but as fate would have it, we oozed blood from fresh tattoos.

I could divulge more details about our adventures,
but I'd have to ask how much time do you have
because condensing the stories won't do you any justice.
Instead, I'd rather discuss my emotions I didn't think were possible
for I have sailed motions of uncharted oceans.

There was once a time where my heart turned icy.
Even though life experiences shot me the **** up,
the "beating" trophy only seemed to thaw.
I picked at straws to apply a healing salve
to revitalize the tender, raw tragic flaws.

I've done plenty wrong in what I consider another lifetime.
I try to make amends for what I've done or what I might do.
Perhaps it's the guilt that's deeply rooted
or maybe it's the love I have for humanity to be saved.
Some would say idealistic, others call it being depraved.

Despite it all, she saw right through my thorns
and thus her walls soon became worn and torn.
My heart wasn't mourned, she held it close to hers,
to be forever adorn. That's when I knew I was home;
for she is my Unicorn.