Stared at a clock today
   it was broken
it ticked slower and slower
until it's time seemed to be frozen
     Even in it's current state
It would be right twice a day

                                                *  I was reminded of lie I was once told
                                               it had left me broken, bitter
                                                          ­    battered and cold
                                                        But even this lie would've been made true
                                                     if it was left to sit unfixed
                                                                ­   and I let those emotions brew

I stared at the clock, unimpressed
the clock had stopped,
         twelve o'clock it read
but I knew that it was taunting, teasing
   and I believed what it said

                                                        *Th­ere, I stood, alone and naked
                                                           ­    debating with myself if I stood
                                                         broken      and      forsaken    
                               ­                                  or if this was the start of the new
                                                           the beginning of the path less taken
                                                   for whichever I stood to believe, this I knew
                                                            ­where I stood then, that was the catalyst
                                                       and where I will be next can't be presumed
                                                        ­     but for this moment, this second in time
                                                        is the only time it will be my center, my middle
                                                         ­                   my noon

And with a taunting tick, this clock
began to move again
tock, tick; tick, tock
     and without a show of face
I stared in surprise
the clock began to run backward
         began to mock
Turning back time
  seconds, hours
     whispering, shimmering
tempting with the ability to rewind
                                                   time
                                                            ­              
                                                                ­           *   ...and her face began to focus in my thoughts
                                                        ­                                      the ringing in my ears became clear
                                                           ­                        became screaming
                                                       ­                                                    and the pain I had wrought faded
                                                           ­                  and the scars done to me dissipated
                                                                ­                   just for a second, I was watching myself
                                                          ­                                          holding her, touching her, * despising her
                                                           ­                         
                                                                ­                                                           ...and I awake alone
                                                           ­                                     sweating                    ­
                                                                ­                                                                 ­        yearning                
                                                                ­                                            scars burning                   
                                      ­                                                                 ­                                                 stomach turning
           
*And   down   the   hall   the   clock   can   be   heard   with   it's   ominous,   taunting   tick-tock   ticking   into *    
                                                      ­                             *oblivion

mashed a ****'n 'n my shirt
had t' sew 'n an'ther 'ne
mashed a ****'n 'n my keyb'ard
n'w I'm a v'wel sh'rt

I'm the air that escapes through quivering lips
the shiver in the bones beneath heated skin
Distant is the gaze from a soul behind dark eyes
Dismissed are my actions behind veiled sighs
But you have no idea what my dreams can show you

The kisses of death; so gentle, so sweet
The laughter of the poor, the beaten, the meek
Wind spills, pouring from smoke filled rooms
Fumes, as love's anger explodes into blooms
And darkness is fading in; and in darkness I lose

I am the whisper among the valley's trees
the venom in the waiting of passive bees
Behind me is hurt trails winding away
In front, a heart so passionately splayed
This is where the wind pauses; what'll it choose?

On silver platter, polished and proud
sits a rusted ring that screams so loud
I am that voice that gently pushes your hair
that violently moves these obstacles of a feeble stare
Breathe in, and let my sound consume you

I am the words unspoken on violent breath
the shivers of a spine when there is nothing left
I am the smile that impresses itself upon your tongue
and the whispers of love that've gone unsung
Ever so softly, let me wrap breath around you

To the woman...

He was a hero in silver armor,
driving the abusive man away,
save for the brusies, she was safe
save for the house, it was okay
He wore a golden buckle
and she didn't know what to say
when he presented her a ring
and asked if he could stay

To the child...

He was a villain in silver armor,
driving his loving father away,
save for the crying, he had a hug
save for the mom's brusies, he'd behave
He wore a golden buckle
that reflected anger he just couldn't stave
and when his mom happily showed him a ring
he decided to run away

Slow pace quickened to keep balance straight
hum of motors masked by the ominous green light
Feel knees buckle slightly under new duress
as the belts grab at shoes and hold on tight
Look ahead along this predetermined path
for book-bags and luggage that block your flight

Do you take steps to make the blur of slow moving sidewalks
appear to be a neon lit sprint in the streamline?
Trudging patiently towards the finish
where yellow paint on the ground mark the line
Or do you stand to the side and let the others pass
as you enjoy the sights and sounds of your effortless ride?

Maybe the sky is falling down around us,
Maybe the world has turned against us, my Love
Maybe fate has another plan for our heart, a direction
Maybe we'll fall back in line with the constellations
Maybe the vultures will fly for our love, circling skies
Maybe we'll cry, just cry

Or,
Maybe we'll be rebels and fight the clouds, Love
Maybe the stars yearn, burn for our love
Maybe we'll burn the world in its tracks
Maybe fate has given us a test of the heart, we'll pass
Maybe the doves bring with them a fig, a sign
Maybe, without you I'll die

Maybe, Love, I'll be there the next time you cry
Maybe, Love, I'll clothe you in skin the next time you so desire
But there is no maybes, my Dear Sweethearted Love
That you hold in your hand, gentler than the grace of a dove
My pounding heart, and all its beating love
And I'm hoping that maybe you'll understand, Dear Love
That I want to charge through this with you, hand in hand

Spirited Detective, finder of souls lost deep
place pen to paper and let the burning stokes seep
etch your place among the dead and dying
Let the ink become your words, your command
And let the paper become your action, your hands
Write their death, 'O prophet!


Become! Become,
  the finder of hunted men gone
  the hunter of warriors from depths so long
  the warrior and tip of the Angel's Sword
Let your pen become your weapon
Let your paper become your tactic
Let your wisdom be your shield
Oh, Seeker of Men, save the Angels
And never let your pen yield