The night's cold.
Cigarette smoke's silken silhouette
on the steam trail
off my breath.
Defiantly shivering-
no, I will finish it
the cherry- red
down to the last futile drag
and me,
the only living thing
in earshot, breathing on
and godsbedamned
I sit
despite winter's frigid grip
just like snoop dog said-
smoke til the last hit
but I fired and missed
and there's something I missed here
though the air is all clear
and I can't hear anything
but a heartbeat-
beat-
beat-
under the empty stars
I penned these few bars
to keep my hands warm
to make the blood flow-
everything's hallowed and hollow
especially me.

I fought hard and saw my skin peel back
From blows that thundered, screamed attack
Sweat poured and mixed with blood and mud
It fed the thirst with gore and crud.

I felt the rips of tendon springs
With fainting pain that numbed my limbs
I burnt, beating down my fists
Drummed the knuckles, broke the wrists.

I heard the whisper of a song
That burst from anguish, from every wrong
I heard it and nursed a growing laugh
I heard it: I am free at last.

The tundra forgave me with watered ice
And cold, I cracked my lips and smiled
Dancing in circles around no hearth
Frozen blisters thawed with death.

I sung to her, I sung to myself
and promised I'd never be silent again.

*And I am free at last
Winter comes dark and I laugh
I fought long, I fought hard
And I am free at last.

**** that noise.
Forget about her.
She's full of ****.
You don't need her anyway.
I can't believe this terrible **** happened to you.
It was all so unfair.
It's been like 10 months. Why aren't you over it?
**** her. Move on.
Wow. What a ******* *****.
Isn't it finally to the point where you just don't care, where you finally say "**** her", and move on?

take my hand and give me your power to do something
I'm tired to feel hopeless, I want to feel fearless
crying like a cascade, never stopped over a decade
it's going to be worse, so please stay close.

take my hand and promise me the moon
so we can both smile at impossible abduction in the sky
look at me and tell me that I count
or
it will be fine, love
therefore, hold my hand and don't let go.

mystic chains that keep me tight and strait
are now rusty and down my bare feet.
freedom that I start to feel
it's more present in my chest, then in my inert limbs
what have I done?
I'm free to go?
involuntarily, my gaze goes high
questions are directed to the sky
filed with hope, and shy cry
maybe was the truth and open mind
that free me from cage of no hope.

Interchangeability.
affixed to loss, affixed to
     loss of limb, or
             worse.
                                              She has the
                                              wildest hair.
                                      So wild it almost makes
                                            her look tame,
                                                   by
                                comparison. and she talks
                                            of magic,
                     no,
                         she talks magic.
                                      she speaks in smoke rings
                                             and with the light of god nestled
                                                            in her bounteous hair
                   those smoke rings float up to form
       halos
                    cresting her brow

                                           shining inner light out.
                                              she is lost.
or I am lost.
       either or, but not both.
we are interchangeably lost
                        and it is not that we are less lost together,
  simply that we are together,
              and that means
                     no matter
              how
                                                      ­    l
                                                           ­                                                              o
                              s
                               ­                                                     t
       ­  we become,
    we are found.

    I
          am:
Lost in liberation
                    in victory
                    in security
                    in madness
                    in
                      her.

I'll be a broken record until the day I die,
I need to move on but I just won't try,
Though the day I die I'll learn to fly.

Let me tell a story about how to be crazy.

So its 3 AM.
You're dreaming in the past, but wide awake. Stomach unsettled, tears rolling down face. Its been forever. Months. Coming on a year. Maybe more. You've been here before. All alone. Various locations and times in your life, but all the same result. You cared about someone more than you thought you could care for anything, and they deserted you, turned their back on you, or decided to hate you. Parents, brother, sister, maybe best friends, or this time the love of your life. That person you found yourself infinitely happy with, who you never thought would leave your side. You question now for the ten thousandth time, why? All over again, the flashbacks cycle through your head. Good memories, bad ones. Ranging from wonderful euphoria to feelings after grave mistakes. A mental rollercoaster ride you strapped yourself into for no reason at all. Things they said, things you said. You find that your head is a broken record which never falters in recollection or account. All these memories, a timeless and photographic archive kept for no other reason than to torment you for the rest of your life. You relive a once familiar face spewing terrible factoid after factoid after factoid, which depending on perspective, or if you must be God or not, are either completely baseless opinions, or maybe totally true. You hear that loved one's voice talk terribly about you again, that same one who once whispered in your ear with such a tenderness of care and love. You go ahead and remind yourself that they now almost act like they never loved you or as if they were only the victim of your completely heinous crimes. As if it were ever news to you. You remember that just before that time, you'd already confessed before the conviction. They wouldn't let you take the blame at the time, but then threw you completely under the bus as if you all of the sudden, needed to be punished for being so absolutely terrible. You had already suffered enough. You were going nuts, you put yourself through so much pain and got so low over things barely of your doing because you wanted things to be alright. You remember confessing to them, owning up to every mistake you could think of, and even things you couldn't control...apologizing for things people said you did, but didn't even do. Promising and pleading to make things right. Promising yourself to never leave their side. That you'd always have their back. But now, you go back to remember that the things you promised were seen as nothing. If they meant something to that person once, they mean nothing now. You remember how their parents talked to you like you were worse than trash, forced a breakup. When you had only tried to piece it all together and came back to your love, they were tired of your "excuses". They even wound up thanking their parents for driving you to the edge of suicide and left you to die when they were the only thing you had left. Did I mention that only weeks after telling you they'd wait for you, after their parents forcefully broke you up, would always think the world of you, would always love you, and always want you, they decided they don't even like your gender? Now, time goes by. Those things are gone. You recreate them in your head over and over because they never did turn out alright. You try to find out what you could have done to change the result. You never got your closure and you became nothing but bad memories and the topic of gossip. The last time you tried to talk to the person about it, they told you they were tired of having to explain themselves to you, but they didnt explain anything at all except reminding you that you treated them like ****, that they're never coming back, and that they're gloriously happy with someone else. They are tired of you shifting blame on them, and telling them they almost killed you with the things the way they dumped you. After all, you almost committed suicide a dozen times. They reiterate to you for good measure, that they don't like your gender. It makes you feel disturbed as you flashback to things you did alone together. You question what was real. They tell you they could never have had *** with you, and act like it is a big deal to you. No matter what you say you can't get them to budge. Its odd to you because you already had a form of *** with them - multiple times, and they appeared to like it. Going down on her was a bit of a one way deal, but what made you happy was being able to pleasure her, and you were satisfied with that. There was never any real craving for more. Besides...you loved them, not their ****** anatomy. You thought it was mutual. You thought you were clear. You thought they were honest. Somehow now though, in their mind, they finally stomped you down. As if you were some terribly controlling brainwashing freak... they finally got away from your control and were proud to do so. The control they and their family and friends all made up for you in their heads. Just like how their mother told you that "you never did anything except **** with her head". You know you genuinely loved that girl. You know your promises were real when everyone told her you were full of ****. You remember in the last of the better days, pleading for that person to just be honest and be themselves amid so much ******* and chaos. Meanwhile people including the love of your life are completely moving on because they couldn't care less than to stop for your ****. Your life is whizzing by you. That person that hurt you, or lets say, you hurt, may never speak a word to you again, yet you continue to dwell on things you couldn't change. There are millions of fish in the sea, and you're determined to starve yourself dead before you let that one get away. Little do you know it was caught by someone else months ago and you'll never get it back. You'll just keep trying until you die because then you can pretend it isn't suicide.

In a peculiar, far off, world, time and place,
The trivial past would be irrelevant, chased away then erased.
Contrary to the reality of distorted lies in front of my face,
These eyes cannot mask fraudulence or disgrace.
Chasing them down with a trace of a defaced case of toxic waste,
I pace as my thoughts race of the time that’s left until I dissipate.
Looking into the murky vase with dying flowers desperate to be replaced,
Misplaced to the one who’d obliterate the beauty I once embraced.

Within my sorrow I woke, shattered love replaced with a heart no longer broke.
Soaked with what I could never cope, I felt passion and choked on my once false hope.
This vision evoked a note; a call of duty for you, my eternity to devote.
Instinctively I knew, the words stuck in my throat, but blindly every incline eventually has a *****.
Surrounded by mirrors shielded with smoke,
As we stared we shared yet nothing we spoke.
Your presence was felt but disguised with a cloak,
Confined in your skin, comfortably lost afloat, for your soul I searched to perpetually stroke.

With blurred vision I envisioned, stood silent, anxious of your condition,
Division of indecision was nothing less than your frightened inquisition.
A hallucination on a mission of who was out to hurt you with consistence,
I understood as you tried to piece together the suspicion of our composition.
Guarded and in position to react upon intuition then the smoke disappeared and you saw our reflection.
No longer was my presence an imposition now in recognition you accepted the ignition of a united evolution.
Successful revision disposed internal superstition,
Our collision created a premonition for our future decisions of precision.

The past’s paths we chose were restricted to our addiction and careless indifference,
The assistance of negative influence stripped us of our innocence.
Blood shot eyes, negligence of appearance, abstracted resistance only creating distance.
Ambiguous and inexperienced, taking shots and hits in an instance,
Distorted images, lacking clarity, the abuse of substance left an absence of existence.
Building tolerance whilst sabotaging resilience, guilty and unable to admit repentance,
Without a witness, secret and safe, no justice to serve and no one to listen.
A mission incomplete and persistent,
We continue to envelope in our disappearance.

In the seam of my sickness I submerge within these contaminated nerves,
Fearing the silence with thirst not to be disturbed,
But absurdly I yearned your unhealthy and perplexed words to be heard,
My tender nature reserved an exclusive place to keep you conserved,
Unstable but concerned I’d preserve you like an herb,
I slurred for forgiveness but observed perhaps this was my turn,
But with your freedom you turned away and flew away like a bird.
Now relentless and pure I burn the surface of my figure, no intent to return.

Yet once we were young, wild and free,
Conducting our train with no fear of where we’d soon be,
The sweet breeze guaranteed the destination with ease,
Imagination without knowledge, amid glee and degree,  
We’d dive and rise above the salty sea,
Later meet beneath that tree with belief the starry sky we’d seize,
Through the debris you still held in your hand the key,
And we’d conquer our dreams, what we sought and believed.

But as I’ve grown within my questioning dome,
My home of stones has nothing to be shown,
Prone to disown my weakened skin and bones,
Candidly I pacify the clone I’ve never known.
In hopes to be flown far ahead of this zone,
I’d hover above in a whispering tone, draining my disease as it’s blown.
My soul will glisten and roam, looking down at my new golden throne,
As I’ve postponed to recognize the beauty of the Earth & my own – No longer shall I be alone.