My absolute worst fear,
worse than being empty,
worse than insanity,
far worse than dying
broken and alone....
is that you may one day
love me, and if I gave you
what remains of my heart
and ruptured soul on that
day, it would break you.

You've never asked what my
name means, probably because
yours is so obvious that I
haven't had to ask what
yours does, or where it comes from.

You are a Fox, English in origin
linguisticly, with a very illustrious
line, stretching back to the days
before the Norman conquest.

My name, from the Low German,
is Hemlock, and that is exactly
what I am. A beautiful tree in my
opinion, but poisonous to all.

They gave of me to Socrates
as a death sentence, and on
the deeply flawed romantic
in me, the sweet irony isn't lost.

Thus we come to the truth of
my fears, deep fears, deeper by
far than the usual ones that
accompany thoughts of you.

You, in your ignorance are
intrigued by me, as you said.
Should you eat of my heart,
and be poisoned, body and
soul, the last parts of me that
believe in all that you are,
would die with you.

They took my songs
They took my books
Tried to steal my dreams
To make me like them
But they missed a fragment
Barely a seedling
And left the earth
A fertile foundation
For a new imagination
Nation
I watered it and let it grow
Let it go
And now I know
It is beautiful
And beyond their corporate control

As the moon queen
Walked into mine abode ( mine life)
I bowed,
Humbly at her presence....

I finally achieved the woman so many ****** nights and ****** poems were wasted on. I thought this would bring utopia. The hardships have left a taste of malignity in my mouth. I don't want to be in "heaven" any longer.

I want to stop breaking people like glass, and I'm tired of hearing my own bones shatter because I allow others to crush them as they walk all over me. I want the world to stop changing for a moment so I can catch up with the times, but I'll never catch up, I'll never see the light of day if I keep hiding myself under the blanket of night where the stars seem to shine brighter than any future I could ever hold on this Earth. I am alone and the ground is shaking and time stops for no one and I believe it wouldn't be wrong to say that I love you because I do, but it is wrong because here I am, trying to pick up the pieces of my ever breaking heart and I can't remember a time when I could breathe because my lungs are failing and my blood is under oxygenated and I feel an emptiness somewhere in between my ribs or my less than whole and aching heart.  Everything is dark, everything leaves a foul taste in the back of my throat and the leaves my be green, but I am dead and I am a walking, rotting corpse and I am surely a shame to this world because all I have to contribute to this earth are the sad stories I tell and the random facts I know about Archduke Franz Ferdinand and horrible words that sort of sometimes turn into poems, so what is the point of living when you're just full of nothing of importance? if I died, no, when I die, I will be either put into the ground or burned, which is not what I want (I would love to either be sent into space or made into a tree) but that will most likely never happen, so at least I will live long enough to know that people **** and anything can break your heart and that you don't care, no you don't care one bit and neither should I, but I care too much about everything and everyone and that is where I'm going wrong. that is why I am dying, I have given every good part of me away and all that is left are the feelings of misery, depression, and disconnectedness inside of my burning soul. if my body were a galaxy, my heart would be the black hole in the middle, for it surely knows how to grab onto the surrounding planets and stars and make them fall in till they are ripped apart piece by piece until they are nothing.