House maid
I was told that a house maid was someone that you paid.
A person. A stranger. A worker.
Someone that you don't really know.
Someone that you are estranged to.
Someone that simply cleans up after you.
You can't really complete sentences to them,
because when you look them in the eye, you only see a worker.
Seeing that honestly this person is beneath and worth only your filth.
That treating them decent would make them more.
That's not what you want, you want to see them as your servant.
While lying that you think of them as family.
Coming in and out of your house daily.
They only have time to clean up after your family.
When they come home to their own mess, there's nothing left.
Energy they used to ease your life, was the energy to rebuild their own.
Without energy all they have is the ability to rinse and repeat the cycle.
Now while I act like your house maid.
I no longer see you as the family members I maybe had.
but the estranged owners that now I have.
You are not simply my boss, but the people that own my life.
When I come and go out of my room to clean yours.
I see only the people and things that belong to strangers.
I am a live in house maid.
The only difference from me and a house maid is that they get paid.
You owning my life and all else, simply reminds me that I am no maid.
That simply put, I am most likely your slave.
and what a difficult place to be,
when I used to be your son.

You speak in volumes.
Volumes of loud, loud, and a little bit louder.
You speak these volumes only when I come around.
I heard you speaking to your family,
and **** that is heart breaking to hear.
When your voice echos around my ears,  
Why you sound so lovely it's hard not to fall in love with you again.
When you speak to me it's hard not to be heart broken.
Because with each word you bite your own tongue.
Some how screaming out other words is only what you can do.
I speak the same words as I always spoke.
That's who I am a master painter of vocabulary; that never left his creed
Yet the artist whom I fell in love with only has 2nd rate living room-- pieces to throw around these days.
I'm building works and conveying such honesty that I can only find. While I'm in the gallery with you.
No matter the beauty I can build; some how you never see me build it.
I construct such things right before your eyes.
Although you only tell me they are lies.
Maybe the daunting shadows of last gallery shine too bright.
That when you compare the two.
My best lines obscure the ones orchestrated before you now.
I open our last gallery for a viewing,
and you shine so bright.
You become my sunshine like you were then,
and your glow blazes childish hope into my veins,
but then I realize that, our past is all you see these days.
That the future doesn't hold special things anymore.
As the gates close to our viewing, obviously the sun no longer shows.
I sit amongst our living room art; you have created once more.

Each day is drowned in frigid waters.
Never able to dock against real land.
Little bubbles ripple to the surface of the ill-fated.
Riptides of hate and disgust slam the high towers of this mighty hull.
The icy cluster plunges into the depth of our core.
Defiantly this mighty bow of ours shrieks from its deathly hollows.
As if some ghostly being is wailing it's final departure to the sea.
Monotonous overtones creak inside this inlet;
as life and death flood to it's harmony.
Brimming with animosity and subjugation.
The majestic's heart yearns for land one last time.
Our innards displayed,
as our two halves fatally sink to their final depths.
Never reaching our idol port.  
Never finding what was Solely ours to find.  
A sinking Ship.

Every time you spit these words around me.
You spray them out with such anger.
Every time you speak these lines.
I can't help but see you breathing fire.
Hearing the snarl in your voice.
I don't see family, I see a monster.
Some creature that lurks within my own home.
Someone that likes to call themselves a parent.
I may be too old, to be the one you shout out and hit.
But I can't watch a beast lash out at the ones around it.
Your frustration taken out onto the ones that beg for your love.
The people look to you for care and guidance.
Not for you to spit venom and strike them down with your bloodied claws.
You call yourselves people.
But I only see devils disguised as monsters.
The brief moments where you stand tall as a father or a mother.
Do not come often enough, more likely.
You fall hard onto your more instinctive traits.
Of gnarled rawrs and slashes across those who you feast upon.
Become people not monsters,
and treat your children as equals.

Happy birthday little guy
You are now 4 years old.
Welcome to the age of comprehension.
Your mind will now belong to the development,
and warped world around you.
Telling you what is right and what's wrong.
Be a good boy, okay?
Everyone is here to see you blow out your candles buddy,
and they all brought gifts to celebrate your life.
"Nod, Yes daddy, thank you soooo much"
Now blow out your candles!
Welcome
The phone rings
You are now 21 years old
Hey, I just wanted to tell you that I miss you
and that I love you buddy, have a good birthday.
A big birthday this one, don't go crazy, haha.  It would of been nice if you were able to have come home today, but you must be too busy with college today.
Well I love you; you'll always be my little guy.
Bye-Bye
*I miss you so much buddy, why did you have to take your own life last year

I wish we could write life in pencil
maybe my life is the white board of life
Can I please at least be a chalk board
maybe they don't erase the things that rub off on them perfectly
but at least they get to rub something off
I am more like a tar pit of a life
Where the things that touch my life will forever stick to me
You see the monsters that have come and died, leaving their remnants here to rot
Why Can't I Etch a Sketch myself a new beginning
I was sick two weeks ago; went to this terrible place of pins and hell
Then I realized the pain in my body
was nothing compared to the pain in my soul
I wished for the pain to come and eat my body whole
Today I feel that pain again, maybe this time it comes forever
then my soul can be put to rest
and Etch A Sketch itself into a different reality

Dream of dreams
But never dream of life
Do not put faith into the life you want
Do not put life on this pedestal of hope
Please do not dream of life
Please dream of dreams
Dream of the things that do not exist
Give me creativity and express with colors never seen
Light that never existed
Because when you dream of life
You will not be living
You will be dying
Just like me.  You will not be living
Dreams only lead to despair
So I beg you, please dream of something better than life
Grant yourself that gift.  
The greatest gift you could ever aspire to
Something better than this life.
A Dream of dreams