Sorry, Mom and Dad.
Sorry, I'm introverted.
Sorry, I'm sad.
Sorry, I'm a layabout.
Sorry, I'm bad.
Sorry, I don't want children.
Sorry, I leech off of you.
Sorry, I'm a slob.
Sorry, I didn't go to college.
Sorry, I cannot hold a job.
Sorry, I have no direction.
Sorry, I take you for granted.
Sorry, I fight with you.
Sorry, I'm ungrateful.
Sorry, I disrespect you.
Sorry, I shed these tears.
Sorry, I know someday i'll miss you.
Sorry, I love you.

The lips of night are delicate,
cusping our ears gently.
Provoking thoughts madly.

As she allows you to stay,
her touch; looms and sways.
Like the coming of the sun,
her emptiness evokes warmth.

Decades, it feels.
As you roll up your sleeve,
her addictive gaze strikes eagerly.
Irritated are the eyes that follow.
Seemingly, filled with a ghastly hollowness.  

A whimper suggested,
as you condemned faith itself.
Yearning a simple sleep,
victory arise between stars.

Stuck in a different plane,
night calls out like a siren.
Echoing shrieks,
she hints of Orion.

As ink touches skin,
you become dreary.
Stuck in shambles,
a sense of catastrophe.

Supported by none,
layabout I may seem.

Delicate in approach,
cheerful my theme.

Sad as my soul,
anguish keen.

Crippled introvert,
romanticized fame.

Care for every man,
clouded my judgement.

Sick as cancer,
judas may suffice.

Troubled today,
tomorrow I fly.

Primal tendencies come fleeting.
The most logical apparatus in nature,
yet senses are first to be culled.

Something of a storm, striking without warning.
Kindling becomes flame, growing wildly.
Praying to be ignited, grieving to be forged.
It's seemingly pointless to resist.
You give in, and it's something terrible.

Humanitarian virtues completely ignored.
As the fire swells, oceans of flame erupt your belly.
Brilliantly orange the aura lurks around you.
Intoxicated visions become reality.
Blindly you roll around, lunacy takes hold.

As your hand made into a calloused fist, you feel
benevolent without self doubt, yet ageless with strength.
Striking the name, even god himself -
had he shown toe to toe with your flame.
You now burn with stalwart devotion,
you cut deep down somewhere near integrity,
yet so blindly.

Ventricles of youth gaze upon you.
Ludacris with insanity, your veins boil with red justice.
The ancient tendencies foster the child inside.
Your calloused hands shake with no disease,
only a pumping chest.

In a instance, you awake.
Never dreaming, but never truly away.
Dizzily, whispers of morality soothe the skin.
Recalling the love for humanity, and logic.
A chill breaks the mold.
You realize what you've become.

Shaken with fear,
sabatons tarnished.
Metal singing a glowing sheen.
Shining sanguine red.
Imposing all who had seen.

Victor, we've fallen.
Parrying and glancing.
Terrible force riddled steel plate.
Morningstar chimes,
flung with hate.

Three held the ford,
gleaming silver cloaks.
Duality of mud,
brothers endured.
Morality seeps.

Hand and a half,
too heavy to bare.
Splintering buckler.
Oak; shred and tear.
Ripping and bludgeoning,
all shock and scare.

Metal meeting flesh,
sounded sirens became aired.
Spectacle turned glee.
Our banners, lastly reach.

The man out of time, walking in silence along the lines.
Parallel as we all travel.
Problems inherited of decades old.

As the "out-of-place" mind progresses and becomes blackened,
he slowly becomes adjacent to reality.
Only through a kindred spirit can we find perspective.

No latency, no compounding mixtures; of facades,
or gut-wrenching quarrels of hatred and jealousy
in which are succeeded only by none.

As the man is fixed upon the stars, he only can wonder;
of what could have been and what was.
Through the eyes of the greatest beast can we feel chances of grace,
and grimace.

When the problems of our fathers' and mothers' draw near.
Conflict grows stronger between the epicenter and our devotion.
Will we truly be able to justify our existence?

The man, in the end, has to deal with crossing the river.
Looking for shadows that are under the skin of the water,
while guiding through life with no reference to measure.
Truth becomes a blur, only readable by love and spirit.

Remember when;
the knife was so thin?
And, you vanished,
just allowing it to stick
within?

Those screams;
the burning, mind-numbing pains;
and those gorgeous migraines.

You probably can't recall,
you were too ****** up to realize.

Time hasn't done much.
Made this sad soul realize how;
they've played the victim over something
so unconventional.

"Expendable" is the word.
That's the one.
The one calling to flourish the rest;
the rest of those "flawless titles".

By now, that knife you've
seem to ingested; bestowed upon me.
It's kinda grown -
taught me; maybe it's my turn.
I can pass that knife on.

But; then again, I'm not you.
I give too much time; too much energy -
to see the greater good.

It's whatever; you and that knife.
And, those ******* migraines.

Beauty marks across an ocean of skin.
Hence a time, I adored to drown in.
For once, I would love to be lost,
and always; forgotten within you.

Those eyes constantly blooming,
always consuming.

The things I would do,
the words I would say,
just to hold you another day.

The Sun arise, our time calls.
I want to be a fixture in your eyes,
a breath, even a heartfelt pause.

Always dear,
and yet mindfully clear;
I will always be, such a delicate friend.
So lucky, yet special.
I will always forgive,
and yet profess, you within me.

Our path, long.
Your mind stays.
Our hearts, they convey,
just to hold you another day.

Before you, I always knew;
those eyes, confined a warm place.
Like a time lost, across the ocean of skin.
Where our beauty marks are sprawled within.