Such disturbing themes
invading my dreams.
So callous it seems,
As I wake up in screams.

Future wild, not benign
It’s my will, it’s my time.
So don’t call it a crime
When I walk the thin line.

Nothing more here,
But panic and fear,
As I feel the spear,
stare at me in the mirror.

Not joyful, not proud,
Not excessive or loud.
Just a willowing shroud,
That’s out lost in a crowd.

A rose is a rose.
So they say, as it goes.
It dances around
as the artists compose.

In the garden in rows.
Quite at home, I suppose.
Why do we dream of a rose?
No one really knows.

It moves and it flows.
It changes and grows.
As our secrets expose
the soft scent of the rose.

I just saw you.
I just hugged you.
I just smiled at you.

I just thought
of all the fun things we'd
for the holidays.

I just thought
about that cruise we'll be taking
next summer.

I thought about all
the memories we would make
in the years ahead.

Now you're gone.

And I can't think of anything
but the hurt...

We are constantly told not be scared.
We are taught it's better to be fearless,
than give in to wanton emotion,
and our primal instincts.

But given the choice between
a dry and emotionless existence
or  being truly human,
I will embrace fear.

It is an inescapable part of who I am.

If I were to suddenly disappear
into this growing madness that fills my soul
I could enjoy the satisfaction
of completely erasing
what I used to be.

I would have freedom
from silly moral things.
I would dance in the face
of my opposition.

I would give myself over
to any pleasure I found.

Everything would be ruined.

I know I've done absolutely nothing
to prove myself worthy
of receiving anything remotely close
to a second chance.

But I hope
if there's any part left of you
that remembers what was
you might give me one anyway.

Lest I fade into dust.

What are we tonight my dear?
Except for echoes of our dreams
floating in a magical sea.
Surely as the sun sets each day,
I'll be there on the shore
Waiting for your ship to come in
and then we'll dance together.

There are so many things I had to say.
That I never told you.
But maybe I didn't need to.
Maybe, in some distant, soulful way
you already knew.
And you already loved me for it.