I've never been partial to sound.
I do enjoy a sweeping melody
Though not near as much
As a carress.
An affectionate embrace.
To merge souls through skin.
Temptation is fleeting
Though I've been too weak
In the past.
Except when I was too strong.
Yet the times I was tempted most
Was when the temptress
Would not look my way.

There's nothing else to say
Except that,
I've never felt like more of a stranger
Than I do in my own home.

I stopped today,
On a bench.
Underneath a staunch oak,
Blanketed with honeysuckle
17 miles outside of
Memphis Tennessee.

Admiring the twisting
Of the thunderheads,
As a gentle rain dug into the dust.

I smiled,
Absorbing the gold and grey,
And spoke.

"Please, my friends.
I know you are there.
Let's not dally any longer.
We all know what you
Have come for."

Three emerged
From the shadows of the oak.
Two I knew,
One I did not.

"Mistress Death, my muse,
So nice to see you again."
The figure nodded,
A soft smile visible under
Her hood.

"Satan, my old friend,
How long it's been since I've
Called your domain my home."
He averted his gaze,
Seemingly uncomfortable.

I turned my eyes on the third.
A lithe woman,
With such grace as I've never seen.
Her hair obsidian black,
Cheekbones sharp,
Eyes the same rolling grey
As the sifting clouds above.

When she spoke,
Her voice was clear,
Compelling,
As if anything she said was
An ultimate truth.

"I have no name as you
Would understand it
Youngling. I have walked
This world longer than any other.
I have heard tell of you.
I am glad to meet you at last.
You are an aberration.
You know why I am here.
It is your time."

Two words I spoke.
"I'm ready."

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.

And let the dead men lie
As the living have done more
Than their fair share

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.

As with darkness,
My expression is equal parts beauty and danger.
If addicted you may find yourself pulled in.
Unable to discern between real and imagined.
Be warned...
People have fallen before.
But it's always been with the way I say things...
Not the message itself.

We are born
And then thrown
Into a hole.
Expected to know
From the beginning
How to survive.
They'll ask you:
"What will you
Do with the
Life you have?"
The only answer
They will detain
Hate and berate
You for speaking
Is: "End it."

It doesn't hurt
When they leave
Only because
I know it's
Going to happen.
I'm used to
Self medicating.
If I hurt when they leave
My medicine cabinet
Is fully stocked anyway.

The problem is that
I'm not a long term thinker.
I've been telling myself for years
That if I'm not dead by 30,
I'll bite a bullet.
I'm still not convinced that's changed.

I never claimed to be a prophet
Nor an intellectual.
I simply sought to see things
To interpret them as I could.
The line between poetry
And mediocrity is muddy.
I admit to creating both.
But to know that a single
One of my writings was ever enjoyed
Brings me peace.

I sit in the dark.
If they want to come for mine,
They should make sure
They can protect their own.

I wouldn't call it normal.
I drink until I'm numb
Trying to suppress
The same shadows
I used to be so proud of.
A half measure
Not entirely effective
But it's the only thing
I have that helps.
I'd rather find sanctuary
In someone else.
Someone who understands,
Who helps me to feel.
The problem with fire
Is that it will always burn out,
And every song has an ending.
They help for a while
But they always go away.

Dead men do not tell
Their stories to us
Because there are no ears
Among the breathing
Patient enough to listen.

If there were?
We might learn
From their mistakes.
And find a life worth
Living left behind.

Sometimes lust
Is preferable.
To feel wanted
For even a short time.
For two bodies to move in rhythm.
Even as strangers.
In a symphony of sweat,
Of flexing muscles.
As I said,
Sometimes lust is preferable.
Because when they leave,
It doesn't hurt.

Though I may walk
Through The Valley
Of The Shadow
Of Death
I shall fear no Evil.
Thy hand shall guide me.
Thy will shall light my path.
Thy wrath shall clear my way.
So I may bring thy Judgement
On Thine opponents.
And fill the oceans with
Thine enemies' blood.
And bring peace unto
The innocent.
I shall know no peace
Till I find my final rest.
No love
Until I see my family in the after.
Thy hand to my weapon.
Thy sight unto mine eyes.
As leaves before the storm
Thine enemies shall fall.
Till Valhalla calls for me.
Amen.

~The Warrior~

When a soul's match
Rejects it,
Only to Send it ever
Twisting, twirling
Through the cosmos
Till it comes to rest
In a pit
On the edge
Of nowhere

When you realize
We as a species
Are a disease on this world
She will heal
When Judgement comes
And we burn from her surface

I'm drowning in a world
That I no longer recognize.
I see a stranger in the mirror
And I can't remember the faces
Of the people I used to love.
I remember the men I used to be
A million metamorphoses later.
I've seen every side of me there is
And every face has taken its turn.
Who am I now?

I should be sleeping.
The clock reads 0220,
She's snoring softly next to me.
But all I can think about
Is what's happened before.
Instead of what should happen
Next.

They say each breath is a gift
Even while inhaling the fumes
Of a world in agony.
That every life is sacred
As millions of children die
Without the sustenance they require.
And that all will come in time
As they tap their feet and angrily watch their clocks waiting for the deadline.

In between conscious
And unconscious
I see the things I dont want to.
Like the 37 days in Kuwait,
The fourteen hours in combat,
The two brothers I dragged
Behind the APC,
The 6 rounds stopped
By my plate carrier,
And the one that punched through
Shattering my clavicle
And ending my career.
Not to mention
My fireteam
Fused to their seats
After hitting an IED
All while I bled in a shack
Covered in blood,
Mud and ****.
The things I don't talk about.
The things nobody knows.
Because even telling the story
Raises ever more ******* questions.
And again.
I don't want to talk
About these things.
So count yourself lucky.
To be among those who read this.

I take a deep breath,
Feel it invade my lungs.
I will it to push deeper,
To force itself farther.
Yet it still doesn't spread
To fill the cavity in my chest.
My heart continues to beat,
And it feels hollow.

It's the clink of a bottle
On a hardwood table,
And the hiss of a cigarette
Being ground out.
It's the numbing warmth
Of just enough,
And the jagged,
Fuzzy edges
Of a little too much.
It's the things that keep me whole.
The things I was warned against
When I was growing up.
But they never tell you that
The things that are bad for you
Might be the only way
To keep your sanity.

All I told you
Was that I needed
More of your time.
Time to feel appreciated
To feel wanted.
You said
"I'm choosing not to."

I know what you mean.
It seems my waking thoughts
As well as my supposed home
Are littered with reminders.
The dull glint of brass across the floor,
Shelves littered with empty bottles.
When the silver fled
I turned to liquor and smoke
To drown my sorrow
In bourbon and tar.
I couldn't afford to
Touch up the chrome,
So I washed it out,
Leaving no trace.
I imagine if I'd
Started with bourbon.
I doubt I would have ever
Given Silver a chance.

I've loved those I didn't know
I've hated those I loved
I've broken and been broken
I've been aggressor
And defender
I've stood shoulder to shoulder
With the bravest men and women
Among a storm of blood and bile
And I've turned tail and run
In times of strife.
To me it seems
The next change in me
Is only the flip of a coin away

I grew accustomed
To the rust.
To the scales of putrid orange,
Decaying green across my skin.
My cracking lips,
The metallic taste
As much from the rust
As the blood.
I never listened to the birds much anyway.
I didn't feel welcome,
As if intruding on the melody.
As far as temptation goes,
I still regret those I resisted,
As well as those I surrendered to.

I miss the simple joy.
My fingers painting maniacally
As my mind drifts through
The possibilities.
I miss being the hero
From the stories I read
As I grew.
I miss the new friends
The ones I knew well
From the places I created.

We could have been immense
Writhing bodies
Singing souls
The headliner seething
Because we, the opener
Stole the show each night.

I miss being different
From the rest.
Uninterested
In their petty squabbles.

I made my mistakes
As you made yours
But the waters rushed
Under the bridge.
The only things
That matters now are
Where to go
What to do
What to see
Who to be
And how to live
My friend.

I must be honest,
I miss the way things were.
It was easy to love,
Almost second nature,
And even pain acted
As a teacher.
I miss herding shadows,
And the ******* the stage.
I regret our story was never finished.
I miss roaming the woods,
Hugging the shadows
With the rest of my pack.
I miss Mr. Mystery,
And how he changed
My self image.
It's been a very interesting
Couple of years.
I didn't always make
The right decisions,
But then, who does?
I'd like to thank you,
Yes, you!
For making these
Memories with me.
And I'd like to ask you,
Yes, you!
How many of these things
Do you remember?
-Mike-

They say the first days,
The younger days,
Are pure and sweet.
And the hours spent
Playing war
Are nothing more than
Childish visions of glory.
They do not point toward
A lust for blood
Or an embrace with pain.
But the game kept going,
And we kept marching in place.
They took away my swing set
And replaced it with a cannon.
The things I wanted to see
Are now things
I never wish to again.
Never show emotion.
Never show pain.
The only easy day
was yesterday.
You're a warrior,
Warriors don't cry.
You're a soldier,
So act like it.

He stood at the water's edge.
The waves pounced endlessly upon themselves
As he tucked a tattered slip of paper
Into the mouth of a glass bottle.
He knelt slowly
And plugged it with rolled leaves.
One look in all directions
At the endless ocean.
He sent the bottle on its way
Half hoping
Half dreading
What he would receive in return.

I see the way they glare,
As if throwing daggers through the windows.
Their faces obscured from the nose down.
They walk this place with constant paranoia,
Staying on guard for something they can't see.
I don't understand why such animosity comes my way.
I'm simply doing my job.
I park my truck, I pump the fuel, I leave.
It's not that hard.
Then I realize, Oh ****.
I'm not wearing a mask.
Oh well. I work alone in a truck all day.
I have zero contact with any other human beings.
If they don't like it, **** them.

She asked me why.
I told her the truth.
My head is so empty
The silence so loud
A single cut makes it
Easier to sleep.
She didn't understand.
Nobody does.
You have to be insane
To understand things
That make no sense
Like me.

The slightest cant
The smallest alteration
To the angle
Can distort
Any image
Change them
Make them
Horrifying

After the tides of war have receded,
And the fires of eternity are but a smolder,
The last of life has ceased,
The final man has lost his breath,
The sands of time will rise into burning skies,
And fuse into wings of glass,
Soaring along the ripples of the pulse of all creation,
Only to lose momentum,
Shatter against the bottom of the abyss,
And burn to dust,
Blown by cosmic winds
Back to the infinitesimal point
From whence it, and all else came.

The clock reads 5:26
First light is peeking through the ozone.
I stand at the back door
Holding a lit cigarette through the crack
Stopping occasionally to take a drag.
Mist rolls cautiously over the distant hills
As if it could spring away at any moment.
The weeds in the yard dance in the wind
Rejoicing in the new day.
My body is heavy, my eyes glazed
From sitting in the pitch black basement.
I don't sleep much anymore.
I dread the dreams as I dread the day.
There is no lesser evil.