I'd offer my soul for one more moment.
One more heart warmed of nothing at all.
One more evening drive until the sunrise.
One more piece of peace in each other's arms.
One more memory made for tomorrow's hope.
I'd offer my soul for one more moment.

What it must mean to softly be in love.
Truthful nothingness lit by candlelight.
How I must wish to hold hope's hand in mine.
We sit, we stew, we stare, and storm along.
Your sympathy, your sorrow, your smile,
all grace the fetid plain of my mind's eye.
I wish you joy, a brighter tomorrow.

Alone I'll sit, alone I'll sing this song.
Alone you'll rest, alone you'll find the dawn.
A goodbye, or perhaps a new hello.

Moments flicker, circles begin and end.
A past's future will let you start again.

Farewell, be free to greet your Severus.
But please, just let me act the Damien.

I wish I could hear the whisper of the wind.
I wish I could witness one last smile's smoky stain.
I wish the colors would not fade in the fall.
I wish for the peace found in your voice's call.
I wish to remember that opossum's grin.
I wish for the love to drown out the pain.

I wish for everything.
I wish for nothing at all.

Sob from the **** sticky with stolen saps.
Look her in the eye and scrape off your skin.
Weep for yesterday, descend, and collapse.
A taste, a sampling, a whisper of sin.

Dull the blade, dipped in blood, entrenched in rust.
Swept away, hold the memories in your arms.
Wash away the pain, and remain focused.
Know no ill will, treasure love, do no harm.

Wait. Moments, hours, days, months. You must wait.
The lavender light will return poor child.
Clutch your promises,  and do not fixate.
Soon you shall see your pains have been exiled.

Please, do not forget the life that you lived.
Please, do not forget, you'll be forgiven.

I learned of the blade's dull chill on my wrist.
It differed from before, but red is red.
I wonder when perhaps, when will I purge.

I call the buckle's mark my hickey.
But you and I both know the kiss it holds.
I just need to lose a little more weight.

Look up at the branches of the surrounding trees.
Hold them in your hand, hold them in your gaze.
Whisper words of worried woe, and take a leap.
This is the end, this is the beginning. So it goes.
Speak my name, look down, and swallow my soul.
If it's true, then perhaps I will get to survive you.
Thank you, I'll say goodbye at the end of the world.

I did not believe the shadows could sing.
Echoing cries, oblivion pressed to my lips.
A swing into ink, a shot of the past.
Cuts pressed against the veins, scars start to form.
I wander now, where no static remains.

Never speak of this again.
You must not whisper of our love.
Do not smile at my grin.
Hear my name and walk along.

Some things were not meant to be.

Still, I find the urge to say,
I love you. I always shall.
I'll say goodbye if it's true.

I will always see your eyes,
when mine are closed to the light.
Your passions will carry on.
This home will always be yours.

Please, cherish the life we lived.
Please, do not forget my name.

The scarecrow sits marking on his ledger.
The grass is pockmarked by his grease-filled tear.
He recalls a moment of time long gone.

I want to pet the rabbits George.
I want to hold them in my arms.
I want to feel the warmth inside.
I want to feel their love in turn.

Six years survived, six years solace.
Six mistakes made by the sunset.
Sixteen years spent. Six siblings by my side.
So it goes, so it goes.

I can feel your weary muscles beneath my skin.
I can taste your everlasting heartbeat.
Wrapped up with a bow amongst my sin.
Your mother would be proud.
Your father would offer a Cheshire's grin.

Alone, written with charcoal and sweat.
Glance into a foil-wrapped mind.
I know it, your eyes grow wet.
You slice voraciously into your flesh.
We shall find the root, until you forget.

Show a dove your hat trick’s hand-shake.
Wrap your qualms tightly with a bow.
Pierce the heart with your lover’s stake.
Eternally put on the show.

Whisper to your hard heart’s content.
Love the mother, and love yourself.
Take a dip, embrace the warm scent.
Enjoy, evolve, enchant, love itself.

Untouched, untarnished, alone with your thoughts.
Symmetrical whispers tickle your ear.
"Tell me, what makes you the way that you are?"
"Tell me, do you mean anything at all?"
You're in agony when the clock strikes twelve.

You cannot remember how you came here.
You see your face reflected off the wall.
And yet, is it you? Perhaps, perhaps not.
A dangerous cold aches into the walls.
You look to your left, the wallpaper peels.
You look to your right, and are licked with flame.

You're wrapped up in the billows of it all.
You taste the chocolate pouring from the mug.
You hide from the stares, peering through the glass.
The covers a fortress around your face.
The air grows stale, then warm, then sweltering.
You whip it away and embrace the ink.

A smokestack tethered upon my greased brow.
Your hands mangled, twisted, curved into claws.
Ripping and tearing at the dollhouse seams.
A spark in the eye, a leap across time.
Offer a charm, offer your heart or mine.
Or don't, and cast aside this petty rhyme.

Scream my name into the chapel's old walls.
Grow this rosebush, let it bloom forevermore.
Do not hide the whispers, do not hide the blood.
Wear it upon your sleeve, cherish its warmth.
Do not throw the sunbeam into the mud.

If you are reading this, come say hello.
ask about the weather, ask about the day.
A smile, a wave, static-filled ramblings.
A chat over coffee, a smoke for the road.
Just tip your hat, shake my hand, have a seat.
Or don't, and I'll write this, bitter and alone.

Take a look at the stars in the sky.
Count them once, then twice more.
Do you see the infinite possibilities?
Can you count the endless skyways?
The numerous wonders within its depths?
Look down as the sand meets the sea,
Can you see the shifting shapes swirl?
Can you count them? Find a start and end?
Perhaps you can, perhaps you cannot but know,
it pales towards the love I have for you.

I whisper in the whirlwind,
and your smile greets my call.
Hand in hand we swing idly,
humming our tune in the valley.
Your eyes mollasses, your breath honey,
I sway to the song of your stories.
A little oak player bumping its tune.
Do you remember that Spring day?
Do you remember the words you used to say?
I knew what it meant I knew the words too.
I knew what it was that we all had to do.
So I sit now, our trials complete.
Your head in your lap, your love at my feet.
And I know what it means to be the one true
Yes my darling, I have to say, "I love you."

There is a draft by the front room windows.
It makes your old bones hollow and weary.
It drags the dust bunnies out from the shadows.
It makes all the lost memories start to subtly ache.
What a power this little wind holds in its hands.
A sign from god perhaps, perhaps a little flurry.
All I know is I hope it comes and I hope it goes.
Rip through my arm and cut from within.
This little breeze uncovers our sins.
It dances in the moonlight and runs to the sun.
It whispers her name and starts to make fun.
It rips open the drawers and sharpens the knives.
It pulls at the sails with all of its might.
It wishes well and calls me its friend.
It dangles what I covet off a string and then
I know that it has to say the words to this song.
All along it was nothing but a ghost.
It ripped out my brain cells and tore at my chest.
It offers up peace and yet it still stabs.
Over and over and over and over again.
Oh lord does it still stab.
Until finally with an oily rag the window is sealed.
Finally the draft is gone, and finally we can heal.

A satin pillowcase pressed against his brow.
Mutters, whispers, buzzing loud in her ear.
"Please darling," he begs, "Set my mind at ease."
They dance down the hall, blood soaking the rug.
She picks up the knife, stabs into the wall.
"Why won't it ******* stick? Just ******* stick."
He tumbles backwards, both alarmed and aroused.
She looks forward, a gleam punctures her eye.
Step, step, step, she approaches his body.
Slowly, steadily, he crawls from her grip.
And the scene resets, they entwine and dance.

Frost-coated blueberries litter the garden wall.
Birds hover overhead, offering silent guffaws.
Through the looking glass the ***** observes it all.
In a nosedive the bird snags the berry in its claws.
A cheer, a screech, and it begins to rise.
But with a bang and a snap, its whole world dies.

There is a certain warmth in the winter.
Born within the four walls that we call home.
Despite the frost enveloped window-pane,
I find a flush blushed up against my cheeks.
A grin spies itself upon our marble faces,
love encroaches itself within the gloom.

A snow globe surrounded by ink.
A freshly lit candlestick's heavenly glow.
A mother and father slowly swaying
A gaggle of children conspire and cringe.

We have arrived at the solstice.
We have arrived at the season of cheer.
We have arrived at the moments of unity.
We have arrived, and we know no more fear.

We all once hid a smile beneath our eyes.
Yet looking around, all I spy are scars.
From the pockmarked faces of beggars at my feet
to the curated sculpt of suits storming down the streets.
One common thread remains in the young and in the old.
They surface only pain, and burn it in the cold.
But why would a child offer such a distant stare?
I cannot understand, what demons must he hide?
If all good men are wicked, then perhaps I'm better blind.
It offers a dull anxiety, a decay of all that's good.
My candle wax is dripping, my clock has come unwound.
But still I shuffle on, still I wander past the veil of gloom .
I hold these moments dearly, let them imprint in my mind.
Despite the pain, despite the doom, one thing holds true.
I have my love, I have my life, and that will see me through.

A bad man stared me in the eye with a punctured gaze.
Oh god whatever shall I do?
Oh god whatever shall I say?
Mother wished me a happy birthday.
Father wished me good luck in my journey.
Brother sisters please just utter my name.
My wife, my beautiful wife, will we ever be the same?

I don't want to take that bullet.
I don't want to fry my brain.
I don't want to sing the chorus.
I don't want to be so lame.

Whispers in the surf, a skull at her feet.
Gently she looks over the charcoal plains.
Remorse fills her eyes, she kicks at the skull.
Turns on her feet, tiptoes away, silence.
The tide picks the bones, they drift away.
She feels nothing, she is already gone.

A fool sits and watches idly from his hill.
Unsure of the detail, but sensing their weight.
He sips at his drink, and lets it soak in.
A single tear shed, this will resonate.
A drop of blood bled, this will consume him.

Our love grows stronger, we are not star-crossed.
I hold on tightly, I hold on dearly.
My grip is ultimate, this I promise.  
Flesh and bone, night and day, still I stand firm.

I cannot, will not give up on my wife.
I cannot, will not give up on our life.
Though simple I may be, this fact I know.
I love you yesterday and tomorrow.
Our lights may fade, the stars may grow dim,
in spite of it, our outlook is not grim.

I find my words getting lost in the mildew.
Expressions lost, is my sadness valid?
Surely not, my life is filled with beauty.
But I cannot strike down this dull devil.
Watching, waiting for the cracks to appear.
I wonder, will he ever leave my side?
Or is this marriage til death does us part?
Til death. I wonder how fast that clock ticks.
Like a heartbeat or perhaps a race horse.
Perhaps the time draws near or further still.
I do not know, I am merely a pawn,
and I know that this game is not quite done.

I wore the shell of a cockroach.
Donned over my shoulders, I became king.
A wonderful life, Lord of all that is.
Close your eyes and envision a field.
It is dotted with speckles of wheat and cat-tails.
In the distance you spy a single tree stretched tall.
Beneath it under the shade,
won't you sit for a spell with me?

Let the wax of the day melt away.
My child we can be free, sitting still.
Then slash at our wrists
let the blood drain and stain the earth.
We will be white, cold husks,
our sins forgotten, washed away,
our corpses baked by the morning sun.

There is no room for God in the machine.
Between the gears greased with the blood and regrets.
A tick tock of grinding, copper and gold.
At the base the china doll rests in soot
a tear running down its porcelain cheek.
On and on, a circus of industry.
Colorblind of all but the greys and red.
A huddle of birds in the rafters pray
that perhaps they'll escape this hell one day.

A devil sits on my shoulder and asks,
"Son, why is it that you think you're alive?"
while grinning and brandishing that gold knife.
He flips it, backwards and forth, left and right.
Just waiting for that glint to catch my eye.
"C'mon boy, take it, let's dig for rubies."
My breath hastens, I find myself shaking.
"Go on boy, that's it, let the panic in."
He's drooling now, and he may be *****.
With a quiver I slowly take the blade.
He licks his lips, and looks on with dark bliss.
With the blade a pen I make my way up,
A practiced butcher, I steady my hands.
"I'm proud of you my boy," he softly coos.
and with a sigh I plunge, birthing new scars.
I know not the number, much like the stars.
As my blood cascades down, a tickling stream,
his tongue unravels, he takes a deep drink.
"Yes my son, you weak little *******..."

his thirst content he draws his breath and screams,

"LOOK IN THE ******* MIRROR YOU PILE OF ****
NO ONE COULD EVER LOVE A THING LIKE YOU."

And I tug and tear and my earth shatters,
I rip at my flesh exposing the bone.
I cry for my mother, my father, my wife.
Unanswered my voice echoes off the void.
I look down at the blade and chuck it away,
The blood pools around me, I pray that I drown,
were I lucky, today would be the day.
But alas here I stand, donning my paper crown.

The devil is gone, away with the wind,
all that is left are me and my sins.

Can you ******* sincerity songbird?
Can you hear the truth quaver from my lips?
Can you smell the ash of our long gone sins?
Can you see the water welled in my eyes?
Can you touch the love, at least what remains?

I hope they sift my name through the ashes
and remember it as gentle and kind.
I hope to God they crack a wrinkled grin.
For then I too can peacefully decay.

The cobweb crusted floorboards creak
as my leg's weight crosses the earthly plane.
I breathe in and shudder, "Yes this will do."
Moonlight teases the rafter's silhouette.
It calls my name, urging me to draw near.
The fibrous snake stirs beneath my jacket,
gently leaping from within its depths.
It twists and curves looking for its new home
before wrapping tightly amongst the wood.
It drops down, and it beckons me to come.
It whispers my name as I grow closer.
It kisses my neck in a warm embrace.
Finally it grows taut and I am slain.
Never again to cause this world my pain.

I wish that I enticed and inspired.
That your life might no longer be mundane.
I wish to see your hand pick up the pen.
Place it on the parchment, whisk me away.
But alas, this fortune I shall not find.
Whispers of the dead-end sparks only remain.
And ever cautiously I sit and stare
at the light that may have once been for me,
at the shadows that now remain in you.

I do not want the cold moon in my hands.
I do not give a **** about the ice
in your veins.

I want rubies pressed taut against my throat.
Gagged by their sheen, looking down the barrel
of your gun.

Do not waste your love on this shattered soul
I am nothing more than a bitter old
pile of flesh.

At my core I am but a sad, strange man.
I should be placed gently in a gutter
left to die.

Liars and thieves save skin for your spirit.
Take my hand and cut at the mottled flesh.
Truly I ponder, yet still I fear it.
The ghoulish imprint of his face left fresh,
burnt brightly, a branded torch on your mind.
I’d utter the names, but it’s so unkind.

A murmur and tremble unlock the lips.
Bloodshot, goosebumped, love warbling on through.
I stab and stab and through the cracks I slip,
******* it all I don’t know what to do.
Scorch the earth, salt the sea, begin anew.
Scars be ******, they belong to me and you.

At the volcano's sill sits a stone.
Etched in its surface is your name.
I take it in my hand, down to the woods.
With a sigh I begin to dig.
Blood flecks my fingertips grinding the dirt.
Yet I continue, deeper still, waist deep now.
With mounds of dirt surrounding me,
my sweat soaked body has reached its goal.
I take the stone, I place it down gently.
It is bathed in mud of my blood and my sweat.
I emerge from the hole, and release my breath.
I take the soil and push it in, burying the stone.
It is compacted with my mud, hidden from the surface.
Nobody shall know it, but there forever it shall sit,
and I will know, and now you will too.

You made a deal.
I made a promise.
Together or apart
that smoke scented taste
ensnares and enchants
my heart and my soul.

I remember my suicide attempt plainly.
A gas mask haphazardly knit in my hand.
The hiss of helium from the tank.
The flicker of light in my father's garage.

I put the mask on my face slowly.
I felt the world begin to fade.
But then suddenly the hose released
and air was all this poor face breathed.

I was so ******* exhausted.
"Ugh suppose I'll wait another day."
Then I went to the hospital.
I took the time.
I healed
and another day never came.

Love dragged me back to the coals.
With a mask of charcoal and blood.
I remember now how the blackbird
sings the song about the dead.

I wish you could hear the words
they'll sing upon my empty grave.
I wish you knew the hollow chorus
to bring my brain back to the pains.

So now I whisper a scream
and ask for just your time.
A moment perhaps, a second.
for in the end it's yours and mine.

I can taste the purity of the blue.
Soaking through my spirit.
Offering tranquility to my mind.
These old bones are weary no longer.

I want the mud to cushion my fall
and the moonbeams to whisper
inside of my bones and scream out
"MY BOY MY BOY COME HERE AND BEGONE
NOTHING IS MERRY
NOTHING IS WON"

and I will cry tears of bloodstains and crystal
and you will look down from your perch and
shriek
"MY CHILD MY CHILD THE END IS NEAR
LOOK UP AT THE HEAVENS
WHICH YOU HOLD SO DEAR
WHISPER HER NAME AND SPIT OUT YOUR
FEAR"

I sit and I say your name.
I hear your voice explain
the intricacies and beauty
of an art lost and found.

I look in your eyes and I know
It isn't a matter of if
but when
you will be mine.

I'm going to marry you.
I'm going to give you my name.
I'm going to grow old and grey.
I'm going to hold your hand every single day.

My joy, my sorrow, my laugh, my muse.
They say that all good things come in twos.

Oh how I wish you'd know what these words mean.
Nestled in stone, laced with lilacs, but yet
they wear down in time a buzz nondescript.

The gaze haunts my dreams a face smug and cold.
Terror and cold sweats marked by morning light.
I hate him but still, he won't disappear,
and neither will I, and so I abide.

A translucent blue, calmly ebbs my fear.
Released in waves from the mere existence.
Snuffing out the shadows, putting out the flame.
A single, amplified coo destroys the demons
picking at my mind, screaming out my name.
A journey of a million moments starting at one.
As long as your name remains etched in my veins.

A pinprick prods at the weary old soul,
flickering above and beyond its grasp.
Laughing and cursing, it digs up the pain.
Ripping and tearing, 'til we lose control.

Silence, then whispers, weary photographs.
All imprinted, all pressed against the glass.
Begging me to reach forward, take a look.
And in my grasp, the pain begins again.

Walk past with your roses painted purple.
Go on down with your drum and a prayer.
Who cares what they'll probably say or do.
One hundred thousand moments of pain,
and this one darling, this one chose you.

Fire and whispers pour down your spine
as you taste the salt upon your fist.
Mops and boiled milk and crows take you back
Oh my lord what are you going to do?
I suppose you'll know, so go, take your cue.

Bring me out back with a gun in your hand.
Dreary Jack stapled down to the pavement.
Cocked and loaded, smoke pouring out the frame
his head rolls gently, resting in the sand
in an instant that life came and it went,
you reloaded, looked at me, and took aim.

What is life if not a lie?
A beautiful fairy tale?
A sunrise on Winter's day?

I look in the mirror
and a devil looks back,
a stone-faced testament to the dead.

As flame licks the boots
and the noose pulls taut
I end this poem with one final thought

What is life if not a lie?
It is loving, laughing, and waiting to die.