The time spent
Watching your blood
Pump
Through the veins
In your eyelids
As the wind rattles
The windows
And you sink into
A comfortable sleep

A
Few
Too
Many
Times
Have I
Lost it
Never to find it
Again
Dead
Gone

Sleepless by starlight
Lining the clouds with silver
A shimmering rain paints
The ground below
With chrome

There's death everywhere.
Why is that a bad thing?
Death is natural.
Our reactions to it are not.
I'm back in the shadows
Where I belong.
Once again,
I shave the weakness from my skin.
If a warrior can sharpen his blade,
Then the blade can sharpen the warrior.
There's nothing wrong with that.

I realized today passing by
And wandering through,
It has been quite a while
Since I have heard from you.

I've missed the quiet nights
Of whispering words
And killing time.

Too long it's been
Since I have poured it out
And shared my life.

Oh, how I used to write,
Of love and hate,
Of sun and rain.

Of silver tongues,
Weaving legends,
Fighting through the pain.

The pain I felt has left me,
Successfully I've staved off my rage.

Yet I have missed
Shepherding shadows,
And the sunlit ******* stage.
The one with which I bantered with,
Over the heads below.
Passing notes,
Surviving day to day,
Was the only thing I used to know.

Those I've loved and lost,
No longer I regret my past.
I've adapted and survived,
The boy has grown up fast.

And so I ask my friends,
For I surely swear
These words are true,
I'd like to hear,
Let me know.

How are you?

He stopped me today,
A nocturnal hunter,
After exiting the crevasse
I had so eagerly
Taken refuge in only months before.
He cocked his head,
Ears twitching,
Nose searching the wind.

"You are of my kind." said he.
"And yet you are not.
I've never met one such as you.
You have fangs,
But they are hidden.
Your rage is tempered,
Yet your heart is still that of a wolf."
His eyes flashed in the dawn's
Fleeting moonlight.
"Who are you?"

For a moment,
A solemn shift took me
As I searched for the answer
To his query.

"I am The Silvertongue.
He who weaves legends,
Yet burns all he touches.
My paws are scarred,
My maw ******,
But what I do, I do for the rest.
I have sold my soul,
But heart and mind
Remain my own.
I have lived a life soaked with blood Of both friend and foe.
My scars have many sources,
I may answer indirectly,
But I never lie.
I have bred and buried shadows,
And I have both welcomed
And shunned the sunshine."

His tongue flashed across
His muzzle,
His teeth bared in
A feral grin.

Spoke the canine
"I envy your spirit
My friend.
You've tread a life
Lonely
But entrapped by
Millions of souls.
But know this.
You keep your own,
You know your spirit.
Your scars are the one thing
That they cannot take from you."

The moment
You first open
A bottle of
Good bourbon

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.

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."

I grow weary of this world
As I have time and time again.
The rush to rise in status,
To earn pointless promotions.
To find love,
To form connections.
It's an endless cycle
Of ups and downs.
To be happy on the good days
And numb on the bad to survive.
The battlements have stood barren
For far too long.
I will rebuild
And reinforce the stone.
For now I will rest in my cage
And let the world burn itself to ash
As the angels keep whispering
You will be saved
In a world that's beyond saving.

Rain and tears fall
As the flame climbs,
The wick turns to dust,
And the candle burns out.

You sit,
Spreading poison.
The vegetation where you lurk has all withered and died.
The acid in your words causes the very dirt to smolder.
A word of caution.
I protect those near to me.
A war against her is a war against me.
And in a war of words the silver tongue has never lost.
All of my metaphors are at her disposal.
This will get worse for you if you don't surrender.
On second thought...
Waving a white flag would be a wasted effort.
You should start running now.
While you still have the opportunity.

It's impossible to
Build something
Worth the effort
If the pieces
Won't go back
Together

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.

It seems to get harder
To find the right words.
The older I get,
The more my silver tongue corrodes.
I remember days,
Not so long ago,
When I would write anthems,
When I would weave legends of intrigue
And my words would steady
The hopeless,
And help them to fight on.
But I've realized,
I saw only what I wanted to.
I saw an empty library as a battlefield,
And the scattered patrons as soldiers.
I saw myself as an Angel,
When I was nothing but delusional.
My words have touched but a few,
And made no difference.
My legacy is nonexistent.
My words worth only their weight
In well wishes.
Completely worthless.

Dreams are just that.
Meanderings of mind,
Willful yet unconscious distraction.
Something to fill the darker hours
As we float around inside our heads
Falsely fulfilling a fantasy.
Whether romance or ******
Remains to be seen.
There are no heroes,
Just self righteous warriors
Waving their banners
And yelling over each other,
To try to drown out your doubts
About their intentions.

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?

I'm restless,
And it seems to get worse at night.
Feel like a wild animal,
I'm itching to start a fight
I wanna find the guy that replaced me and pound him until he's flat.
But what would that accomplish?
It'd make me feel better and release some of the anger that I have.
I wanna feel bones break and skin split under my fists.
And once I'm done I'll cross his name off of my list.
The only thing about this rampage I'm weary of is if I start,
I may never be able to stop until I punish all who have fractured my heart.

There's a reason
That I identify as a being
With four legs,
A tail and sharp teeth.
Paws, swiveling ears,
And a cold wet nose.
A life as a wolf is simpler.
**** or be killed,
Eat or be eaten.
Protect the pack,
And always stay loyal to your mate.
Except when you don't have a pack,
And your mate left you lost.
I can survive alone if I have to.

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.

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

For sure
Bronze has stronger draw
Than silver.
Though silver
Made me who I am.
It started at the tip of my tongue
Coaxed it's way down my throat
And coated my lungs
Sweeter than honey
Yet sharper than steel.
It recoiled, however
Returning to nothing
So I thought nothing more
Of the things that shine in this world.
Silver was what I chose
Because silver was pure.
Silver cannot be blamed
For the sin that passes the lips.
For whatever alloy
Coated my airways
The message
Would have been
The same.
The only alteration
In the delivery.
Our past is shameful,
Mine especially,
Yet they have no bearing
On our future.
As the choice in metal
Has no bearing
On the words spoken.

I'm tired of writing about
Things that are above me.
I can't speak for the Gods
When they won't speak to me
In the first place.

That means something
Very different
To both of us.
The rushing water
May work as your filter
But we both know
That to purge
I need pain
Blood
To force out the hurt.

When I'm called home,
And the halls of Valhalla
Ring with recollections
Of love, loss and redemption.

Remember Me.

When the children scream
For their parents,
The thieves confess to the ******,
And the blood of the lamb washes over,

Remember Me.

When the Gods strike the earth,
The trees smolder and cry,
And lightning batters your cities.

Remember Me.

When your buildings fall into the sea,
When your allies are raiding your lands
When the sand and the snow trade forms.

Remember Me.

For I warned you that this was coming.
And I'm not coming to save you anymore.

No, not always.
Without oxygen
Or sufficient fuel
The flames will die.
Though I will be honest,
There are flames I thought
Had been extinguished,
That I now think
I make have been
Mistaken about.
I don't think gasoline would help.
It tends to explode,
And I'm already in so many peices.

What, then
Do you recommend
For reverberation
Of the soul?
When nature
In all her glory
Decides instead
To turn the heavens
Into an assault.
Pouring thunder,
Lightning
Down my throat
As I pour the dark
Sludge of resentment
From my ears
In return.

A life spent
In a mental prison
Wears on you.
We try to count the days
Scratching lines
On the walls.
Walls made of skin,
Bone, muscle and tendons.
These scars are not
A show of weakness.
These scars are a sign
Of survival.
Though some may
Shun them.
Some may see them
As messy.
I keep my scars
To show how many times
I've been cut deep
And kept clawing
Out of the pit they
Threw me in to.

When I am gone
Know that what I did,
I did for those I love.
Every life extinquished
I did to protect you.
You will not read this.
You will have no reason to
Until after I've passed.
Be it today
Or after eons passed.
I stood at ready.
My eyes were open.
I saw clearly.
I lived as I should have
Restless.
I will have died as I lived.
In blood and bile.
Though I saw the faces
Of those I'd toppled
In my dreams,
My only wish was
That the dreams ended
When I reach my final sleep.

I'm free.
I should feel better after 21 days.
But it's all the same.
The walls aren't off-white.
There isn't double-pane glass everywhere.
There aren't nurses to ask about
"Suicidal Ideation".
But it's all the same.
I'm not free.
Not when my mind follows me
Wherever I go.

Death stopped me today,
On the sidewalk outside
Of a Dairy Queen.
She asked me if I was afraid.
I smiled and said

"Mistress Death, I am
Far from frightened. I welcome
You as a friend. I've written about
You enough that I've come
To understand the fact that you
Are alien to me."

I gestured for her to follow
And we went inside,
Sitting at a corner table
With two vanilla ice creams.
She asked of me.

"What has become of you?
You used to cherish the dark.
You herded and bred my children.
Have you given up on
The darker side of life?"

I finished my cone.

"I have not given up a thing.
I've found a purpose
And a future for myself.
I've built a life worth living.
I may no longer be your disciple,
But I still consider you a mentor.
And one of my truest friends.
When it is my name called,
I will be happy to walk into
The dark at your side.
But until that day,
I will live my life as a fire.
Burning bright,
And keeping those
in my presence
Warm."

And I departed.

Every brushstroke
A scream
Every sentence
A body
We hide our anger
Our frustration
Our catharsis
In pretty colors
And euphamisms.
Better to misdirect
Than to act.