I'm not in a hurry
to meet the better part of me

I mean it's a journey
a... self discovery

So...
take it slow,
     after all

you can't get a glimpse
of your face in the mirror
if you run past it in terror

Try and...

Think of the bad
 as a bitter poison
  that we drink so that soon,
hopefully... we become immune
to the toxins in our own head
or risk further blood shed

the choice is yours
fight the wars in your mind
and maybe you'll find a better way
or live in your own turmoil
6 feet beneath the soil

The last of my self-poisoning Burns away,
and as the cigarette shortens
so does the noose from which I swing

leaving a locked door for an open window
on the second storey floor
Im in a free-fall while smiling
because I don't care anymore.

So if I hit the ground half as hard
as the harmful thoughts in my head
I know I'd be better off dead

but instead

here I stand over a buried body
reading a eulogy for the memory
of the part of me I let die
before a newborn Phoenix learns to fly

Wearing warm smiles
we locked ourselves
in a broken glass handshake,
     knowing...
we would sew each other up again.

Our blood brother bond
tied us together like
a barbed wire rope
while we waged our tug of war,
just to turn scared skin into armor.

Now disfigured and damaged
to chase away the world,
together we wait for the rain
to wash away our ****** bread crumbs.

While we walk arm and arm
holding each other up
slowly draining each other dry...
brother in harm,

I miss you
goodbye.

Our beginning , like new life
was pure.

So far away are the days that like the horizon seemed filled with eternal promises to face
side by side.

First as friends,
then as frolicking fools
too blind to see the roads sharp fork
that would divide like a deep chasm.

Still, we rushed forward
on passions temporary fuel
hitting the first bump,
soon to be trapped in a cycle
of blissful agony,
like new life growing only to wilt
in the unceasing cold to come.

But, as a dead flower leaves a seed,
So did we leave scars,
that tells a tale to carry each of us
with the other as we move on.
Perhaps,
A lesson learned or a wound
to be examined on colder days,
that like the markers along
a journey
guides us going forward.

So as dents display the wisdom our once
fresh bodies did develope on our trip,

We learned to seek out bumps to avoid
and though we drive different roads
In opposite seasons,
peace floods me as
the passing road markers
down memory lane become
like the grave stone on that forking road
where I layed each wilted petal
of the flower on the dash
to rest along the road on that autumn trip.

Some strange arrangement
of molecules would make me?
When I am nothing more
than a temporary ripple in time and space
Just flickering impulses that,
allow me to perceive my
place.
Simply a mass of messy wires
swimming in a cocktail of chemicals
that accounts for all I feel?

So I say, can science explain:
The depths of a poets words,
the burning desire for artists to
explode color into stationary life,
or the soulful dance of a melody merging
with ones very being?

Yes, well then

What of the hidden glimmer of life
sparkling in each creation's eyes?
What of the realms of things unseen
and so often only felt
for the faintest moments?

Would recycled carbon on its own,
that has drifted for eons, somehow
rearrange to form life?
Would billions of chaotically
                                    colliding particles
embrace so harmoniously that
the overly comedic conditions for life
would so seamlessly come together
that at this very moment
you and I,
two beings of impossible odds
could have our paths combine
that I could write these words
that they could wander there way to you

Call it a necklace, noose, lead or leash
that we willfully wear
as under the poke and ****
of societies brand we still let it steer.

Living for Friday Saturday and *Sinday
throwing rain at the clouds
while we let time trickle away wastefully
out the hour Glass.

But when going against the grain
is like running into a sand storm,
we would rather let the days die
like they weren't worth remembering

Like a vapour, memories fade away
In a clumping mass of evaporating
                                                     ­      grey

                                  Then

call me a fool for standing in a sand storm
traping trickling time
in the hour glass
faster than it falls as I make
Many more colorful memories.

Gaze as I turn the dam ocean upside down
Repouring the rain I caught into the clouds
As I burn the tie
fray the noose
   loosen the lead
leave the leash round societies neck
And I burn it with my own brand.

As Atlas attempted to seize the heavens
he learned to bare the weight of the world.
Such is the cruel fate
of love to scorn turned.

And what of all the legends of old,
of hero's tales from bronze to gold.
Why instead of stone statues
are cement hearts held
in every man's chest
while we lay old stories to rest?

The songs of sirens
swapped for plastic promises,
Heads of hydras
exchanged for two faced friends
as our magic morphs to cheap tricks,
all that managed to remain
Is an Achilles heel for sincerity

So when two souls like worlds collide
and create a place of bliss,
too often one bares the weight
of both worlds, with the burden
of unrelenting loss.