The old forgotten unwound clock
                                                         is still at least right,
                                                          ­                                twice in one day.

Like a white sheep she bleats for her Shepard.

Look me in the eyes and tell me I am not already dead.
Look within my soul and tell me, all is finally at an end.
Look with your silver eyes, which reflect my very own.
A chaotic wind right before the deadly storm.
The redden horizon, fading into the coldest of blue.
A will of a way, left to burn within the goodwill of our mortal souls.

I see you Dear Brother...
A man shroud in the facade of a devils red clothing.
But men, we are not...
Are we, O brother of mine?
Two hidden lies, masked within a mould of our own demise.
A shell our mother has bestow upon her demon spawns.
Masqueraded truths smeared, until all came crumbling down.

I spoke of my hatred as I slipped from your grasp.
I fell into Hell with a malevolent wrath,
a curse befalling my tongue;

I hate you

Another lie, another sin.
Added to a pile of our transgression,
shadowing us in its path of our own destruction.

Look into my heart and see my love.
A love, which has not commenced into something dark and malcontent.

Look and see another me, (mirrored in your stare.)
Look and believe all is fine.
Look and tell me my blue coated wrath,
is nothing compared to the inferno of a burning Dante
while playing the part of your savior, Virgil.

Two souls, forever intertwined.
Both born under the sacred son,
but destined to fall under baited spikes.

When will there be rest, O Brother?
With my blade in your chest?
Or the indirect request of your blessed reprieve?

Look, before all is too far gone...
nigh is the time,
Look and you might just see...
Me.
but alas just yet,
maybe,
you shall see a piece of yourself as well.

It all came to halt...

The battle cries;
The swinging swords;
Cleaving halberds;
Even death's opening doors.

It all came to a complete stop.

Enemies from both sides, frozen in time.
All looking towards him.
The man shining brightest with hate and honor.
No, not the hero.
Instead the mighty warrior,
With an ode to a king to claim the sacred lands.

Arrows arching, painting the sky black.
Red rivers running, beneath the bodies of the fallen.
Burning; burning; burning smoke, filling the air.
The smell of death hanging near.

He changed that day.
The day he turned on his rage.

Legend insists to say.
He was the reason they won the war that day.

This feels so wrong.
Living on a respirator,
healing from love's infection.

I use to have a pulse,
right before the insanity struck.

Thump, thump, my heart sung.
Finding comfort in my own breathing.

Then I saw you...
heard you.
felt you...
and I breathed you in.

My heart skipped in it's beat.
And my breath was gone.

Wrong- is it wrong?
It feels wrong.
Beyond all reason,
I have fallen in love with you.
And I know that
your taste is such a thing-
Such a thing I'd die for...

You're all I've ever wanted.
Now you're all gone.
Thieving my breath
and stealing off into the night.

Even though I love you,
you couldn't wait to leave me.
So, I'll whisper with my last breath,
about how much I miss you.

I can't help but close my eyes
and lay my body back down.
Letting the machines keep me alive.
Till the day you'll be back
to breathe life into me.

Immune to the depravity.
Enslaved to the creativity.
A weaken soul, to the artist brush.
A becon of burning coals, in the artisans stove.

Two sides of the same coin.

We are writers.
We are painters.
We are smelters.
We are dancers.
We are singers.

We are art.

We are, us.

Your screams always cut the deepest.
Like a hand scolded under the hottest of water.
Cold to the touch as it tricks the nerve into believing--
A sheep in the wolfs clothing as it drifts into searing.
The watery message relays the misery.
The detail all there lain before my eyes.
My skin battered and marred--
Torn asunder with merely your voice.
Thick with rage, smoldering with pride.

Words intended to be used as a weapon, will always wound the feeble.

My love is like a stone,
strong & sturdy,
and like the rock it is,
It will always find away to sink;
disappearing to bottom of the depths of the waters.

My heart is the water,
Free flowing & nurturing,
but love, (the stone)
strong & sturdy,
in its own way.
Will always
find away to descend--
The decent, into the abyssal.

The abyssal is my longing,
cold & wanting.
And this stone will always-
find away to the bottom of my cavern.

The cavern is where my stone is lodge.
Forever alone with the water washing the hurt away.
Down into the abyssal of longing.
Forever caught within the deepest of cavern.

I condemn you. I condemn you.
One; for the pain you brought.
And the second for the continual shame.

**** you. **** you.
One; for my severed heart on the ground.
And the second for the boot stomped across it.

I hate you. I hate you.
One; for my dignity.
And the second for my pride.

I shall forgive you. I shall forgive you.**
One; for the pity I feel for you,
And the second for my own self-worth.

My heart has many rooms,
I occupy but a few.
The rest go unvisited.
Till the light began to flicker on
and I've discovered a new part of me.
Take my hand,
lead me through the mazes of hallways.
Show me the rooms,
I've constructed for you.
Inhabit it.
Feed it with your passion of life.
Till my heart is lit ablaze from it.
Light each room with your warmth.

Make my heart into our home.

I hate this feeling of dread creepin through my soul. There is no reason, other then I'm falling off the edge into shallow waters.

The lady in white turns and my gaze runs over her, I was taken aback—

This mysterious woman was like the missing puzzle piece of the black and white picture lain out in a lack of color. She is a classic beauty. Her face has all the sharp angles and the perfect pout of her red up-turned mouth, but it was her eyes which captured me.

They are actually… Actually, the color of a persimmon fruit and like a persimmon fruit; which is very flavorful if eaten at the right time of year but very astringent if eaten wrongly. This woman’s redden eyes churn with a sweet taffy, a chaotic intent bubbling below.

The sound of her mystical voice drifts towards me like glass wrap in sensual silk, poised to strike but yet a feminine edge to it.

"Hello..."

Reaching
                 as
                        I am
                                falling
                    up­-wards              
              into    
          the      
   Light.
                                          Blinding...
    ­                                                     Gleaming...
                                                     ­                      Shining...
                                                      ­       Swinging
                                               towards
                                                                ­ the  
                                                                ­          bottoms-
                                              ­                      facing
                                    ­                        the
                                     ­         dark-side.

A
    downwards
                    plunge.
                              crossing-
                        ­                   over
                                     into
                      forwards
                             ­         as
                                            the
     ­                                              world
                                                           spends
                                               onward.

when
Will
this
Ever
end

                       ­                               This
                             ­       downwards
                          dance...
             ­                             
on
And
on
It
goes...
                                   ­         A
                                                  never
        ­                                                    ending
      ­                                           spiral...
which
Path
have
You
chosen?
                   ­                                   The
                                                             blinding
                                                        ­                    twisting
                                                                ­                         dance of
                                                                ­         forgetting?
                                                     ­             Or
                                                 ­            the
                                                     hazy
                                             path
                                                      of    ­        
                                                        ­   remembering?

its
Your
choice.
                           ­                                             *Speak:
            ­                                                                o­r
                                                               ­             it's
                                               ­                      annihilation.

I'm bending at an impossible angle.
Over backwards,
to appease such erroneous behavior.

An implausible feat,
to gain a few meager feet.  

Eye contact
As our bodies touch.

Once again,
I've become the malleable traitor.
Bending over backwards,
placating your itchy trigger finger.  

That's why I'll take you back.
Oh no, that's the price I must pay.
With nothing else to give.
I'll spread my confession.

I could almost taste the anger,
lingering on my tongue.
A paper thin relationship,
ripped with a flick of the wrist.

I should leave you with nothing,
instead I'm giving you my heart on a silver plate.

Oh no, that's why I'll take you back.
Oh no, that's the price I must pay.
Oh no, it will be alright...
if I give you nothing to shake off...
I'll be alright.

Just have to remember,
your words cut like knifes.
Into my skin, carving lines.
Ownership marks.

MINE

There's several ways to thinking about.
Deriving it according to principles and theories.
Remembering there's tomorrow,
and a day after...

No matter what happens, will you take responsibility?

Oh no, that's why I'll take you back.
Oh no, that's the price I must pay.
Oh no, it will be alright...

Fading into a blue ball of anxiety...

I am not your maid.
I am not your personal cook.
I am not a butler for you to boss about.
I'm not your employee...
Your slave, nor am I anything of the such.
I'm not a *** doll.
Or a pillow to cuddle with.

I am a person made up of water, blood and flesh.

I think.
I feel.
I bleed.
I cry.
I laugh.
And I live.

Please don't confuse these things.

For I am real.
And you shouldn't take me for granted.

The holy pages burnt slowly as it drew you closer into a darken rapture of sorts.
Ashes and soot crumbling from a wayward vessel, down into you, the sacrificial lamb.

You burnt the sacred pages. The fluttering flecks of a religion scattered around your scarred and bleeding feet. The enlightenment you sought was nothing but a false ploy; a world of innocents to crumble and deploy.

Balefully cries linger on the opening of trepidation. With the wingspan of purgatory, wrapped in nefarious black silk.

You!

You, virtuous martyr...

Abbadon's gate, with it's scaly arms, stands open and wide, deceitfully at the ready.

*The question is; Are you willing to pay for your deceitful sins?

The past hurts like an ocean made up of opaque glass.
And you asked me to exist within the shatter-jagged fragments.
An amphibious creature,
Breathing the pain through shredded gills.
Numbed, bruised and bleeding.
Wounds are what they called them.
Battle torn from a thousand different edges.
Don't you feel them?
  The watery shards wedging into your sides,
  Piercing your lungs of the will to exhale.
I feel it, like rough hands upon my neck;
  Tearing through my flesh.  
  Slipping down my throat.
Till I'm choking on red.

You asked, and I confessed.
My passions, the black and the blue.
Inhaling the wine-water,
I want to save you.
Even with an ocean of glass standing in my way.
I want to save you.
Swimming and swimming, until this agony bled away.
I wanted to save you.
Even though I knew I couldn't.
*I wanted to be the one to save you.

“I’m here for you. Where ever you need me. I there.”

I smiled up and held his glistening stare. I realized then and there, his eyes weren't dark brown like I’d previously thought but instead a deep ocean blue. So blue they were the color of the black night sky.

I was five when I asked my mother,
while holding a box of crayons,
"What color is me?"
She smiled and explained I was the color yellow;
radiant and life giving.

I grew, and grew, and when I was ten I asked my mother again,
"What color am I?"
She leaned really close.
Looking me up and than down.
"Blue," she spoke.
"The color of the skies and sea's.
Vast in wisdom and deep with honesty."

When I was fifteen
and started to come into myself,
I asked my mother again,
"What color am I this day?"
She looked at me, reading me as if I was  book.
"Red. You are the color red.
Unshakable with passion but uncertain in your strength."  

The year I turned twenty, my life was barely beginning.
I was filled with such trepidation about moving away from my family.
I asked my mother, standing in the threshold of our home,
"What color am I now?"

My mother paused in her answer,
her eyes seeing something I never would or could.
A smile spread on her tired face,

"My darling little girl,"

She spoke touching my cheeks.

"You are the color of the sun, yellow; radiant and life giving.

You are the color of the skies and sea's, blue; vast in wisdom and deep with honesty.

You are the color red; unshakable with passion, and most certain in your strength.

My bright and shining daughter,
you are a rainbow for all to see.

Her body only existed where he touched her.
Twisting and writhing to his hands upon her flesh.
The rest of her evaporated into smoke.
             Dispersing into the nights air from a masterstroke

His hand wrapped so fiercely around my heart,
a five fingers imprint.
To which will never go away.
Even if he wants to go,
the marks would still be there...
Mutating my heart until it ached.
That boy had left an everlasting impression on me,

I will never be the same.

Dream as if you will live forever;
endeavor to rise from the ashes.

Live as if you'll die tomorrow;
devise a plan because there will be
an invariable end.

Tomorrow might rise...
and hell, the world will still be turning,
but tomorrow might not come...
and today was all I had.

I knew I tried my best
and dreamed as if I'd live forever.
and lived as if I'd die tomorrow.

Tonight is the night.
When the girl and the sea can atlas become one.
Her flawless legs blending into the wet sand.
A thin waist, which is clouded in white, disappears into the frothy foam.
I watch her go, her blue bodice rolling away on a wave.

She doesn't look back at me standing on the shore. The sun cresting on the hills.
I will always miss her, and her mint green eyes swimming in tears of loneliness.

The lost-girl who vanished into the sea without me.

I died last night.
A stain of red upon the sheets.

I died last night.
Without a sound leaving my lips.

I died last night.
And I'm still lying there.

I died last night.
Without a care.

I died last night,
to live for today
and to grow for
tomorrow.

I died last night,
to live.

Its all a fantasy-
                         or was it all a mystery.
                                                        ­Have I lost all sense of reality,
                                                        ­     ­                                            all the while,
                                                          ­                                                                 ­ slipping down the banister?
                                                       ­      ­                        ;joke cruel all it Was
                                            .magister the to listening          
              -thing every While
knocked up-
                  backwards.
                               and then,
                                          **əpısdn-uʍop

There's an ***** missing in my body.
Right between my heart and lungs.
An empty space filled in by bone and blood.

It should be there,
Instead,
it pains me that it's simply not.
A missing section of myself and my fellow humans, lost to evolution.

There's an ***** missing in our body.
An empty space between the heart and lungs.
A vital piece of something important,
That we've all mistakenly forgotten.

There's a piece missing.
The section between heart and lungs.
An ***** that can compute the pangs of lust and lack of oxygen,
when falling in love.

My fingers laced a crown,
as you carried me into the lapping water.
I drew a breath...

And you tucked me into death's bed.
Water filled my lungs
with a slip of your invasive tongue.
--A goodbye kiss.

You left me there.
Slipping down into the icy waves.
Beneath the rising water.

My breath gone as you dissolved from my bubbly view.

The party's over.
My makeup left fading, the remembrance of something beautiful.
My black dress is on the floor, replaced by your warm arms.
I shared a bed with you, a surface not made for two.
Snuggled under the same blanket.
A single pillow for our heads.
I felt your warmth through the night.
A strong presence at my back.
Your nose crowning into my hair.
We slept pressed together, our body twining with one another.
I slept with you last night.

The party may be over, but I'm still here with you in a bed not made for two.

For all the poems
written on the subject
of unrequited love.
There are far too few
discussed on
being the desire
of the affection.

A difficult topic
to build a
foundation on.
Considering,
you're suffocating in
debilitating silence.
How could I know
if the words were
never spoken?

Like counting birds
against the blaring sun,
its almost
an impossible feat
to accomplish
battling a massive
lack of knowledge.

--and with the
cataclysm raining
down on your shoulders.
Do you feel cold
and lost in desperation?
A silent hope built up
into a concealed bonfire.

Standing alone.
Burning alone.
Impossibly alone.

I didn't know.
The words never
left your tongue.

No promises made
No catharsis expressed.
Only lustful secret
clutched to your chest.

Sometimes solutions
are not as simple as
they seem.
If only I'd known,
If only I'd been told
long ago;
then maybe
this wretched ending
could have been
something beautiful
instead
of a juvenile mess...

The first rays of the sun were peeking over the green tree tops. The sky masked in shades of rich oranges and amber as they fought back the depths of the dark lonely night sky. Deep shades of reds and pinks collided with colors of the coldest blues and blacks, leaving a beautiful display of purples and violets bursting through the heavens above.

The lingering stars twinkled dimly and were fading fast with the sun rising brighter in the colorful sky.

It had been one of those warm clear peaceful summer nights with the stars and moon full and round, shimmering beautifully high above.

You could still hear the grass hoppers chirping their sorrowful tune as the night faded into twilight with the morning fog hugging everything it could reach.

The ache is deep inside. There, just where your knife resides. Didn't I beg for your mercy? My throat screamed raw from wailing for my surrender. A barbaric answer, I did receive. Your concealed dagger buried within my left side. I stumbled and fell to the ground and watched you walk away, with a whoosh of your dark cloak. My vision blurred within deaths grasp. Left to bleed on the cold granite. Pale-white stone smeared amber. Oh, God. That awful color.

I couldn't help it my love, even with your fervent betrayal lain open and exposed. My waning eyes traced each strand of your ebony hair as the manic winds whipped them around your unhinged-grin.

"What a vision you are, my god." I whispered my ****** words staining my teeth.

You glanced back then, with the greenest of green eyes. A swirling ball of chaos with a deadly smile. The gold of your curving helmet reflecting; what could have been; what should have been between us. You looked back at me, right before you vanished in your clouds of illusions and smoke.

"I worshiped you..." I spoke to the dissipating air where you stood.

My god. My king. My lover. My killer.

"--and I trusted you." An empty echo of words ringing truth within my ears.
My time is fading in this realm. I am merely a red smudge on the ground. I question myself as I drown, lost in my sea of blood.
'How did I ever come to trust a deity of mischief and lies?'

Nothing is happening...
I may have lost my ability
to form words.
Still nothing is happening.

My pen is empty.
My fingers tied in knots.
My tongue has wrung dry.

When will it all being anew...
I ask.
When nothing is happening,
with this heavy block crushing my hands
of any progress I might have brought into the light.

All because nothing is happening,
when you have The Writers Block.

There was the time before you. When I was free in my endeavor's.

Then the time during you. When everything became unfathomable. And I  wanted to spend every waking moment with you.

Then there was the time after you. When? It does not matter, because you are gone.

And I am done.

I stand before the walls of a glorified failure as it tumbles beneath itself.
The nature of a grave danger, labored with a dire wager.
Plunges and crumple, into a pile of rubble
and to continue forth into a hidden tunnel.

Dirt stain fingers and my inner winner;
The only tools left to dig a way out of our rapidly crumbling puzzle.

You delivered me my unfathomable killer-
A ineradicable form of justice.
My sacramental, misjudgment of
a thrill gone astray.
Leaving me feeding the birds which prey on saints most days.

I stand before the wall as a simple thrall.
Dirt and grime painting my nails.  
I stand in my hellish pit readying to climb.
Ready to rise from the plague surrounding me.
To fill my lunges with air, not lingering with death.

I am ready.
The bringer on the rise.

Your love is like a forbidden fruit at the top of a tree;
I could strive for the juicy apple,
reaching out; standing on the tips of my toes,
stretching my body as far as it could go,
only to have my straining fingers graze the bottom of the redden fruit,
for it to slip out of my starving hands.

A love like yours. Girl, it's too good to be true.