I write letters to the dead because they are quiet and they listen.

I write letters to the dead because they like the night as much as I do.

I write letters to the dead because they never write back.

Fight Club
Kicking *** and taking names,
laying ground work and staking claims.
One punch and down you go,
all it takes is one fatal blow.
****** fists and a broken nose,
wearing spikes and stomping toes.
****** lip and two black eyes,
getting kicked between the thighs.
You only lose if you tap,
make me bleed, and watch me snap.
Haven't lost a single fight,
don't matter if you're black or white.
We have over a thousand members,
all takes place in chained chambers.
Do you think you have what it takes,
no time outs, or any breaks.
No Edward Norton or Brad Pitt,
no need for a fighting permit.
This fight club has no rules,
I love kicking in the family jewels.
You fight friends, you fight foes,
that's just the way it goes.
Come join our exclusive fight club,
just don't forget your ticket stub.

It started as a little hatching bird
Raising it's feeble
Oversized, ungainly
Little head

It started as a spark
Flickering weakly under tinder and wood
With hardly anything
To give

It started as a raised head
Like the shy kid in class
Working up the rarest courage
To speak

It started as the faintest of urges
And I didn't worry too much
'Bout it
It was probably nothing

I came back from the capital
And realized
My time to fly was approaching
That little bird had flight feathers now

That little spark was catching
Spreading around
Giving more and more warmth
And it finally began to show

I went around town
To start
And then Chicago
And then my own house

That shy kid spoke up at last
That little bird raised it's wings
That fire grew stronger
And stronger

I am posed on the edge
Of a burning nest from the fire
Ready to speak again
This time even louder

Dear God,
It's me.
Again.

I have left you with so many questions...
But no answers.

Why did you create killers?
I don't know.
Why do I have these feelings of hatred?
I don't know.
Why does my mother love somebody else?

I
DON'T
KNOW.

Why do I feel this way?

You bring us pain.
You leave me with one question.
One question.
One simple question that will never be answered on this stupid hateful earth.

What is your plan?

Do you know how it feels
To wake up worried if you'll make it home ok?


Do you know what it's like
To cry yourself to sleep every single night?


Do you know how it feels
To wonder if you're mother is going to abandon you today?


Do you know what it's like
To stress over whether your younger siblings will eat or not?


Do you know how it feels
To go to sleep hoping everything will stay calm?


Do you know what it's like
To call your dad and have him ignore the phone?


Do you know how it feels
To lose your own parents to crystal?


Do you know what it's like
To throw away your own father's needle?


Do you know how it feels
To barely make it through the day?


Do you know what it's like
To come from a shattered home?


Do you know how it feels
To blame everything on yourself?


Do you know what it's like
To be a child like me?

Dear God,

I wanted to tell you that we're grateful.
All the things you do that we may not even see.
We go through our daily lives paying no attention,
But you are there nudging us forward.

Like a supporting father pushing us to our goals.
You are like a warm blanket letting us move on
As we bathe in the beams of your sun.
Your creation.

A man wins the lottery,
He is overjoyed by the money.

A loved one near the edge of death,
Someone thanks the technology behind it.

We can't seem to decipher what really brings us these things.
And maybe it's because we can't be exactly sure.
But if you are to call yourself a Christian.
A believer in our savior and a worshiper,
Why do you not praise these parts of life?

Or life itself?

I wonder about you in everyday miracles,
Little things that make a whole day better.
And most may not pay you mind when you do,
But they would if they had the time.


I just wanted to say thank you,
But then I think again,
Maybe something else gives us these miracles,
But I still go on calling you friend.

I wonder.

I wonder why you gave us what you did,
And why we still have it after we abused its power.
We're pawns of the world awing in your greatness,
And without our king, all hope is lost.

God.

King.

Savior.

I wonder who you really are.

For if you're nothing but an imaginary figure,
What have we been praising?

And why do we convince ourselves of your existence?

Father.

Lord.

Creator.

Thank you for allowing us to be what we have become,
And comforting us in times of foolishness.

and she had
eyes like ghosts
invisible and
haunting with 
their past lives
and last loves

pale white
wrists with
bones and
veins protruding 
like the
lined drips of
a cemetery candle

her heartbeat
was an 
eerie melody 
filling my 
nightmares

yet I feared 
the day that
this symphony
would stop

that your 
skeleton whispers
would no longer
graze my
shivering cold
heart

and that 
the frightening
things you do
would halt
and be replaced
by an even
eerier silence

right now
I fear you
but when I
think of
losing you
and never
seeing you
again
I wonder

what am I
so scared of?