I'll face it,
The place I call home
Is just a
Smaller,
Emptier
Lonely room
To wait out the time.

The only way to end the pain,
To siphon excess anxiety,
To quiet the raging whispers,
Is to set the body free.
To give an escape path,
A perfectly straight line,
Symmetrical with the forearm,
That sags into a grotesque crevasse.
The pressure escapes,
Lessening the screaming in my soul,
The clawing at the base of my skull.
When the body is a battlefield
In a war between heart and mind,
There are bound to be scars
Left on the surface after the fight.

You turned your back
And gave your reasons.
"I can't do this anymore."
You said I didn't try anymore.
That we fell apart because of me.
That I should've called you
Every morning when you woke up.
That I should have texted you
Whenever I had a free moment.
But you never considered that
I worked 80 hours a week.
You never considered that
You could have called or texted me.
And you never considered that
Telling me I should have "fought for you"
Is absolute *******.
Because you should never expect me
To fight a war,
When you're ready to surrender at any time.
Get the **** over yourself.

The man
Born of pain,
Gallevants
'Cross the stage,
To the cheers
And the jeers of the people.

He dances
All day,
In the sun
And the rain,
As his fears
Become more and more real.

He keeps
The charade,
Tries to fight
Through the haze,
As the music
Calls much darker evil.

Till the man,
In his prime,
Turns away from
His life,
And he watches
It all start to crumble.

He's so sick
Of the dance,
That he keeps
Falling flat,
Of his heart
That was ever so fickle.

To his head
Held a gun,
Not in love
Games or fun,
But the dancer
Had naught left to live for.

*Bang

We spend all of our forsaken existence Fighting to make our mark on the world
When the truth is that nothing we do will Last in this life.
Our loved ones will die,
Our names will vanish,
Our pride will fade.
Buildings will crumble,
Legacies will fall.
But still we crawl,
Trying to make our presence felt.
I simply want to watch this world burn,
So that I can simply leave it colder,
A small smile on my lips.

As we're caught,
Trapped,
And dragged along,
Unwilling,
In this sweeping tide.
As the hands wave by seconds,
Into Minutes,
Into hours.
As time drags us,
Heads bouncing against the concrete,
We seen to have given up.
With each second pass,
A heart stops.
With each ****** minute,
Another man has lost his sanity.
Another family,
Lost their son.
We are a strange race.
Creating constraints that bind us,
Almost as if we need that reminder.
That no matter what we do,
Where we go,
Who we defeat.
The ticking counts down
Until it is our turn
To be launched into the abyss
Off the second hand of
A
Ticking
Clock

Nightshade creeps low,
Leaves raking through the dirt.
Between the daisies and the petunias,
The roses stand tall
Until they are strangled.
Petals dance for a final few moments,
And the tendrils retract.

A weapon
That once provided
Comforting weight,
That imbued me with
A way to stave off the darkness,
Is now a tool for my undoing.
Now,
The very shadows
That I've bred for years
Beckon me towards it,
Whispering a promise of the end,
An end to the fighting.
An end to the final enemy.
Myself.

The passage of time
Has become torture.
The seconds slipping by
Scrape against my conciousness,
As a rowboat does against jagged rocks.
The pain presses outward,
And I can feel invisible blood
Running from my ears.
The ticking of The Clock
Pounds at my temples.
Existence is Pain.
*Death is Release.

Hear them,
The desperate cries
Of starving children,
The mewling of cubs
Too young to fight.
The breaking of bones,
The strained silence
After the screaming stops.
This is my nighttime melody.
*How else can I keep my brain busy?

The number has doubled.
Our ranks are swelling.
Together we are ubstoppable.
One Silvertongue is a menace.
Two is a storm.
I bid you welcome, Old friend.
Better or worse,
Change is change.
We have change in common.
And of one thing I am certain.
I've missed the mystery man that you once made me.

He who stalks the shadows,
Avoiding sunlight.
He who breeds shadows,
A loaded guitar slung on his back.
The Man behind the mystery
Is not the picture of romance
And desire the words suggest.
I would know.
The Man is really
Little more than a boy
Trying to find his place.

As a boy,
I frequented the crossroads
Conversing with Paimon.
The Demon king was loath
to be summoned by a child,
But so it had been.
Of many things I learned,
Of gain, loss, love and hate.
But the most useful thing he taught me Was: "To thine own self be true."

She told me if I loved her,
That I would change for her.
I told her that if she loved me,
She should love me for who I am,
Not "who she can make me."

Crossed stars mean nothing
Except an extraordinary battlefield
When wronged lovers return for vengance

Kindness to weakness,
Desperation to deception,
The point is that I'm back.
For how long?
We'll see.
But I got a lot to get outta my system.

Simple language
And a ****** soul
Usually bring a darker tone.
But sometimes it can be fun.
Oh, I hope this is one of those times!

I write
About all unholy things.
Twisting shadows,
Making peace with Demons,
And dancing with The Devil.
I admit,
I've made my fair share of mistakes,
But what did you expect?
Surely you should be wary of
A Wolf with a tongue of silver?
A boy who plays with shadows,
And hides from the whispers in his head,
Regardless,
I've missed this.
I've missed the outpouring.
I've held everything in for too long.
Love and hate have torn me apart,
So now I take time to heal.
I welcome anyone,
Old Friends and enemies,
New adversaries and acquaintances,
If you have something you want to speak about,
Something to set straight,
Or just want to catch up,
You know where to find me.
I've missed you all.
My mind is awake.
Life is pointless.
So please,
Give me something to write for.

For people like us,
Living in a place
Of demons and monsters
Is reality.
Our words are our weapons,
Our rhyme and rhythm our only defense.
Our comrades the others like us,
For we are all Silvertongues
In our own right.
The two greatest gifts given to us
Are the ability to create
And the ability to destroy.
But only we,
The Silvertongues,
Can do both with the written word,
And on the same page.

A fall is not always the end,
For when an Angel may find herself
Surrounded by irridescent showers,
She can still spread her wings and fly.

Maps,
Like most thing,
Have sharp corners and edges,
And are easy to fall off of.
Well,
I lost my balance.
That is plain to see.
Things do happen
But,
I've missed this place of wild words,
Of twisted minds and sick comfort.
I can't call it home,
But home is what it is...

Regardless of the happy times,
I shouldn't neglect to mention the joy,
They always return.
The feelings of inadequacy.
*The ******* whispers

In a constantly shifting world of differing perspectives devoid of peaceful silence,
It seems she silences the screaming in my head.
Just by being.

An aborrent force,
Tugging, twisting, and tearing,
Ripping us to shreds,
As we are also compacted.
Made to mesh and solidify,
Until we are naught but one singular whole.

I stopped myself today,
In between keystrokes.
I was deleting folders of death notes,
When I happened upon something.
In between pictures of that last family trip,
And a project that's rotted since May 5th,
I found a message.

A message that was (allegedly) from me, to me.

Dear Mike,
I know things may be tough. You may be going throogh a lot, but I know you can handle it. I'm you, after all. Hang in there.

Someone isn't nearly as smooth as he seems. He misspelled "Through".

I could paint you picture perfect,
Then burn the canvas,
Making the paint run,
Distorting the picture until it seems you're screaming.

I hurt myself because if I deviate from the scheduled pattern set for me, I'll go insane.
The only problem is that I can't always expect the pain to come from an exterior source.
Especially when I'm happy half the time.

When the cheater is cheated
By her partner
Does that change anything?
No.
What if the cheater is cheated by the cheat she cheated you with?
Still, no.
But it's **** funny.

Dancing lights,
Long forgotten remnants of wars fight eons ago.
Wandering projectiles,
Set loose from interstellar cannons that have yet to find their targets.
'Till they feel themselves pulled in,
Where they rub against the heavens,
And burn to dust within the atmosphere.

It's strange, how after all this time...
You still make me want to strike a match,
Watch the entire world burn,
And salt the ground so that nothing grows.
Erase every memory of us,
Good and bad.
Angry? Me?
I guess you could say that.
Maybe you shouldn't have taken advantage of me.
A wolf with a good heart is still a wolf.

We all know the feeling of something missing,
But what about when what's been misplaced is a piece of the soul?
I feel like I've lost my identity.
My better half has been whisked from my sight.
Now all I can do is endure until she returns.

If you can't handle me at my worst, you don't deserve to  be around at my best

A hall of  mirrors  only serves to show our shortcomings from every angle.
After wandering for days I'll finally drop to my knees and sob;
*I asked you too ******* **** me so I wouldn't see myself this way

Life is but a chain of stops as we travel in circles,
Harvesting the heartstrings of those from our pasts,
Only to throw them in the fire when we meet our final forever.

Fluttering pages hang from the rafters
And imaginary friends try to suffocate the flames before the edges of the script begin to curl and ash, signaling the end of times, the end of their world.

We are all alluded to little hints,
Ones we barely seem to notice.
A slight inkling here or there.
A stray thought or phrase.
Something that sets off a signal flare.
We're bombarded by little whispers,
That resurrect old memories.
These give rise to whole new inspiration,
Reset the count clock to 365,
And change the page to 394.

When you've realized you can't take any more,
And you do what you must,
Without leaving anything behind.

Black sweatshirt, hood up.
Black jeans,
Black boots, Black socks,
Black shirt.
I was asked tonight:
"Why do you dress like that?"
To which I replied:
"It's hard to blend into the crowd,
Especially when you're like me.
But it's much easier to blend into the background.
Especially if you're nocturnal,
And black is your color of choice."

I spQak and thQ ink whispQrs back at mQ.
Glowing, flowing dancing curvQs,
Adrift on the softsQt pagQ.
YQars arQ rQlQasQd with a singlQ stroQe.
CQrtain words contain a piQce of my soul. Qntrapped as thQy arQ,
ConnQctQd yQt isolatQd.
BQcausQ a lQttQr's sound can changQ,
DQpQnding on diffQrQnt combinations,
But it cannot be transfQrrQd.
ThQ words shinQ a hQsitant silvQr,
A tQstamQnt to days gonQ by,
To past lovQs, hatQs and judgQmQnts.
To timQs thQ words madQ sQnse.
But now I shall surQly sharQ thQ sQcrQt.
ThQ rQason my poQms are morQ rQal.
ThQ rQason thQy arQ blunt,
YQt only strikQ glancing blows.
I do my bQst to makQ thQ words what thQy want to bQ.
Because you can't force a Q to fit the part of an E.
Now rQad again and sQQ if it makQs sQnsQ.

A few fleeting words for a faraway friend;
Welcome back.

I'm not sure.
It could be anger or sadness.
All I know is that it rises,
It freezes,
And my chest is packed with ice.
An unbearable burning,
Like a frozen fire.
Fists clench,
Until all anger melts away,
And I'm left with nothing.
Bring the end unto me.

When we were young it seemed we owned the world,
A mixed up band of distracted boys and girls.
We always had our heads in the clouds,
But when we believed in something we screamed for it loud.

Now we're spread from town to town,
All our dreams are dust on the ground.
I've had friends die walking the streets,
Seen suicides and several ODs.

We always pushed ourselves to grow up fast,
Now our wish comes true at last.
Right out of school Will has two kids,
Lives to support instead of living his.

A close friend was blindsided by cancer,
Don't have the heart to tell her religion ain't the answer.
Her parents tell her all she can do is pray,
As I sit and watch her get worse each day.

I miss the times we had when we were kids,
No obligations, full of innocence.
But now it seems we can't find the light,
They said it first, The Kids Aren't alright...

Sometimes it's easy to forget that evil has many faces.
Especially when those faces are ones you used to gaze upon,
And feel nothing but the purest form of love.
*Amor est mihi in ruinam

"I don't want to live."
The dead man sobbed.
"When life begins, everything else ends..."

June 1st, 1998.
A child born,
A boy,
With a mop of brown hair,
And complications.
Pulse weak,
Not getting enough oxygen...
But the complications?
They were handled.


June 1st, 2003.
Blowing out your candles,
Looking forward to things to come.
Like being the ring bearer in your parents' wedding.

June 1st, 2005.
Forfeiting your birthday wish,
Because your wish is coming true.
Your brother is born July 26th.

June 1st, 2012.
Looking back on middle school,
And ahead on the monster known as high school.

June 1st, 2013.
Looking back on freshman year,
And celebrating 6 months with the first girl you ever loved.
You're positive she's the one.

June 1st, 2014.
Looking back on sophomore year,
Relishing the thought of being an  upperclassman,
Yet still mourning the loss of your first love almost a year before, on June 26th.

June 1st, 2016.
Going to the meeting and signing the paperwork.
Feeling more pride than ever in your life.
You leave for basic training in August.
Little do you know, you will be medically discharged in November of the next year.

June 1st, 2018.
I will look back on all I have done.
My failures most of all.
Because they're all I have.

They're after blood,
Looking for a bystander to blame.
Unfortunately for me,
I couldn't control my curious nature.
I wandered into the crowd,
And somehow ended up in the epicenter.
Now I'm bound on a pyre,
Wondering what it feels like to burn.
Dimittite me ut vadam in terram surrexeram
*Send me back to the dirt I rose from