There was a storm today,
A tree older than me,
Taller than the walls of brick
                                          Broke.
Why can't I stop thinking about it?

Dylan is dead.
no, not Bob, you Philistine,
Dylan Thomas who implored us
to rage against the night;
so are a passel of poets
and penners, but not I

Emily heard her fly buzz,
well before her eyes shut; she
was a wee bit obsessed
with the reaper

Hemingway's also a goner;
guts enough to shove a shotgun
in his mouth--mostly I wonder if
he tasted blue gunmetal like I did,
and who cleaned his brains
off the wall?

nobody had to clean a red dollop
of mine, for the firing pin was askew
and all I got was a click, and a sense of shame,
and impotence more flaccid than
the one which put the barrel
in my mouth

hell, how hard is it
to **** yourself--I guess harder
than I thought, since I never bought
another rifle

so Dylan is dead
Em and Hem too, but you
are reading these lines without
contemplating your own demise
I suspect

after all, it's early spring
and a time of new things
clawing their way into the light
thinking nothing of the terminal
night -- but it's just a sun dip away:
ask Dylan or Hemingway, or even JFK
but I wouldn't bother the Belle
of Amherst

she would make parting
sweeter than sorrow, and she
never tasted the cold lead, or spoke
with fear or dread of the dumb
and the dead

she never murdered
men in black pajamas  
in a forest primeval...

I didn't see their spirits
ascending, in ribbons of light,
only rivers of their red blood
soaking the green ground,
yet today ravenous
for more it seems

why would she rage
against the good night, when
her carriage waited patiently for her,
and immortality, her vessel bound
for a light Dylan and I
will never see

It's interesting to think about how we make people
who used to be everything into nothing again.
How we learn to forget. How we force forgetting.
The path that was started so innocently has taken us to here,
strangers again.

However, yeah like most we started as a strangers.
I never wished that we would end up where we are today.
To be honest, with the way our story began,
I never thought it could possibly end like this. .

But, every sentiments
become empty thoughts
when I look back now.
Recalling that love is not
what it generally appears.
It's just so simple to forget.

From so long ago my question is
if it really happened.
The person used to be my best friend,
the person who was the number one priority,
the girl I thought could never exist,
she was everything that I thought
could be perfect in any girl.

Still after all these,
we lost the fight with this society
and all that of left is
a mind with random memories
from our faded period of time
when this stranger was most
important person in my life.

Now, our life will continue
on in different directions
becoming STRANGERS AGAIN.

From your neck
Crawling its way up to your head,
Like a river cutting across soft land
The pain follows upto your brow .
You squint your eyes
And shake your head,
The pain taps your mind.
This is the pain from hopelessness
There is no escape, feel it,
Embrace it.
Pray that it busts your head open
And your brain splashes across your bed.
Pray that you evaporate
That you disappear,
Leave back a stain
For that is what your life has been.

You lay on your back
Silence broken by the blood
Running around in your otherwise limp body,
And you hear a screech, a whisper
A mocking?
You turn your empty
But strangely heavy head,
You see the creature
whose children you killed that evening.
You had hunched over the broken egg,
Its insides now spilled outside,
And the other one still lay across.
You had nothing to do,
You wiped the goop that could be life
With a torn bit of paper ,
Haphazardly poured water
And wiped again.
Who would say
The floor had seen death today.
The other egg you rolled to the side,
You knew the creature would cry tonight.
You went about with your life.

The creature is swelled up again,
You noticed
Life would get a chance again,
That is how it works you wonder,
But she must be furious
You see her staring at you.
You are sorry you say.
That's all you had to say
Until today.

Today you are thinking of striking a deal with her
Today you will ask her
To spill your head open
The way you had spilled her egg.
You will ask her to give you peace,
To give you your awaited escape
And in return she can have her justice.
Tell her you can be killed,
All she has to do is drop you
From a height
The way you had dropped her egg
From her home, your rolled mattress.
The only difference you had no intention
Of taking away someone else's life
But your own.
So today ask her to correct your mistake.

My blood will be wiped
My stain will be removed
Someone else will take my place.

I haven't written anything in so long because everything that comes out of my mouth sounds like a broken record. I can't even think straight because all the voices in my head keep screaming, and then to make matters worse we are actually screaming. Everyone always says love makes you crazy but why do we always get this crazy. The burning sensation in my heart used to excite me and now all it does is scare me. We used to be united and now we can't even find a way to be in the same room. I don't understand why we can't see that the only answer to life has been me and you. I used to write beautiful poems about the way you made me feel and I still am but only this time they are more about tragedies and how we ruined the one good thing we had going for us.

the human heart
is the size of
a closed fist.
it punches
in my chest,
leaving bruises
on my soul

it beats out the
everylastbit
of love i hold.
show me how
i can ever
set myself free
from the idea
that, i, too
am bitterly alone.