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

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 sit and ponder
How a steady mind
Can pick through a pile
Of cluttered characters
And combine them
Into words that can
Change the world.

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

It's strange how the people that pass through in life are those you miss the most.
A silver tongue grows wary of words spoken, and wished it could stop hiding behind metaphors.
There was only two people it could ever be completely honest with.
He misses Mr. Mystery.
And #You who created him.

A blue sky doesn't gauruntee good weather.
The sky won't necessarily stay clear,
And lightning can strike from miles away.
A downpour doesn't have to be bad either.
Sometimes an acid rain will cleanse the landscape.

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'm adrift
on a shifting sea of sickness.
The battered boat breaks the waves beneath me.
Crimson clouds circle overhead.
Coughing gulls wing their way to shore.
The sun beats down
Branding my body a ****** red.
I'm not sure how I've found the will to survive.
But I will say...
Things are so much more peaceful away from the rest of humanity.

An old man stopped me on the bridge,
The one in the park over the pond,
And he asked how things were.
I was honest.
It was ugly,
It was angry,
It took a while for me to finish.
And he told me:
"You're much too young to be bitter."
He said,
"You need to focus on the future instead of the past."
I thanked him for his advice and thought.
Then I realized.
He was right,
But I'm not too sure I have a future to focus on.

A dead man stopped me today,
In the big field under the willow tree.
You know,
The one with the tattered rope hanging from it.
And he told me.
"I know what you're thinking."
I stayed silent.
"You don't want to do it. It's not the way."
I just stared.
He sighed and gestured upward.
"That's my rope. My way out. But also the reminder that I gave up."
My eyes drop to the ground.
"I wish I hadn't. There was so much I never did. A lot I never accomplished. I wish every day I'd lived a little more."
I glance over and then step off.
He hangs his head and dissipates.
Later, I return to the willow tree,
And climb it.
I untie the tattered rope, letting it drop to the ground and open my backpack.
It was about time for a new one anyway...

A little boy stopped me today,
On my way past an overgrown field.
The one where the peewee teams play football.
He needled me,
"They'll put me in, right?"
And rambled.
"My daddy said he can't come to this game, by he'll come to the next one, won't he?"
He dreamed,
"I wanna be a soldier someday, and help people."
And my heart broke more and more as he kept talking.
Youth and innocence have their place.
So I walked on.

A tired man stopped me today,
Outside of my old high school.
His eyes were full of tears and madness.
"Please, for my sake, don't give in."
He sobbed.
"I don't want to end up this way."
His hands were scarred,
And his eyes scared.
"I want us to be better than this. I wanna be what we meant to end up as."
Age and wisdom aren't always synonymous.
So I walked on.

Past the field,
Past the school,
Past the struggling masses.

I stopped myself today,
On the edge of oblivion.
We're not done talking yet...

I stopped myself on the edge of oblivion,
Down the road to my right,
All I'd ever done.
Everywhere I'd ever been.
Everyone I'd ever known  
Down the road to my left,
All I had yet to do,
Places I had yet to go.
People I had yet to meet.

And I spoke.

"People tell me to keep fighting.
That it's not all that bad.
That things happen for a reason,
And the reason just hasn't shown itself yet."

I gaze into the structureless abyss.

"The truth is no-one gives a **** how I feel,
The ones who encourage me only do because they can use me. I'm constantly being told to buck up."

Fists clenched and my nails cut my palms.

"If anyone ever lived through what I have they wouldn't want to keep fighting either. They wouldn't want to keep surviving. So why should I?"

A deep breath and shoulders sag.

I stopped myself on the edge of oblivion...
And couldn't talk myself down.

I stopped myself on the edge of oblivion...
And I jumped.

I looked up from where I landed,
And saw a face peeking over the edge.
Overcome with curiosity,
I forced myself to rise,
And came face to face with a startled girl.
And we started to talk.

I stopped a ******* the edge of the road,
The road we all walk together,
Yet alone.
Her face was red,
Eyes bleary,
Makeup smeared.
She kept murmuring:
"He doesn't love me...
He never did."
Your life isn't about gaining approval from others.
Her head snapped up.
"Who said that?"
An old soul who has walked the same path. The difference is you still have a choice.
A broken sob.
"But it was all a lie..."
Then find something real.
And something clicked in her eyes.
"Who are you?"
They used to call me The Silvertongue.
But the question you should be asking is who are you?

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".

The Devil stopped me today,
On my way back around
The cyclic road we walk.
He folded his hands and sighed,
His eyes soft and sad.

"Mike." He began.
"I'm sorry. I have to stop you.
You've had your turn around."
He beckoned me towards him.

"You know of those you've hurt.
Of the damage that you've done."
Here his eyes seemed to harden.
"You can't make up for the mistakes that you've made."

"Even Gods have their time.
Let your tongue of silver rest."
He tilted his head.
"No punishment awaits you."

"No pain.
I know that every moment
Of existence pounds in your temples.
You wish for an end."

He taps his foot and a hole splits
The Earth.
"Come with me. You've already had your torment. I can stop the voices."

He nods to me.
"I can stop the pain."

The Devil stopped me today.
At the crossroads of time and space.
He made me a deal.
A deal I couldn't refuse.

My soul.
For the end.

A Demon stopped me today,
On the harrowing climb from
Where I'd come to rest.
Satan made good on his deal,
I'd faced no torment,
Only quiet peace.

The Demon spoke.

"You've found a home here, you've faced no pain, why wish to leave? The life you've lived is done, the world goes round. What is it that you need?"

I cocked my head, a silver glint in my eye and replied.

"I wish no longer to sit and feel remorse. I've made mistakes of course. But I've come to terms with the things that I have done."

The Demon snarled.

"The Devil chases after you!"

And said I,

"Let him come. I'll fight tooth and nail through all the burning plains of hell. I've come to know this place, I know the fire and I know it well. If you follow I'll wield peace like a burning lance. I'm leaving this ****** place, I'm taking a second chance. Don't underestimate me, even after the reaper comes. I've got a round for each and every one of you."

And he turned to run.

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."

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.

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."

I stopped today,
Wading in the ripples
As time flowed around me
In all directions.

And I understood.

We are all alone,
Yet together.
Our existence and isolation
Bind us infinitely.
Our experience and ignorance
Bring us empathy and apathy.
Our love brings happiness.
Our hatred brings violence.

We are all together in that
We are all human.
We are the same
For we are unique.

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?

I'm sorry.
By nature my writings are cruel.
They speak of angry things,
Abused animals and beaten children.
Brother killing brother,
Families splintered.
I can try to soften them,
But the euphemisms only last so long.
Metaphors sharpen themselves,
Turning into barbed hooks.
The truth is that's all I've ever known.
War, death and heartbreak.
There's a reason I'm more comfortable
In a shadowy corner with a knife,
Than I am on a sunlit street holding hands with the girl I love.
It's because she's not there anymore.
She always leaves,
And my knife hasn't ever left me.
It's dependable,
And always sharp.
A man's knives should always be sharp.
*Hie par in tenebris est et in tenebris caput meum

The moment
You first open
A bottle of
Good bourbon

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.

Ring a-round the rosie,
Pocket full of posies,
Ashes! Ashes!
We all fall down...

Stacks of swollen bodies,
Screams of sick and dying,
Burning! Burning!
We've all been ******.

Forty days of pouring,
The lost which we are mourning,
Sinking! Sinking!
We all shall drown...

My rhyming now is finished,
Your heart now feels diminished,
Sickened! Disgusted!
Flee from my words.

I hope it isn't
Overstepping my bounds
To intrude on your conversation.
My friend,
There is always a war
Going on somewhere.
Whether soldiers clashing,
Cannons flashing,
Or fighting our personal demons.
Even the savior himself
Was betrayed by those
He sought to help.
Humanity is always trying
To destroy itself.
It may be macabre,
But it's impossible to save
Them all.
Because in every war,
There are casualties.
And there are always
Those in the crossfire.
A stray round will always fell
A civilian or two.
Take it from someone who knows.
Don't try to save the world.
Just do your best to
Make it back alive.
And know that there are others
Fighting at your side
Watching your back.
And with their final breath,
Those that fall will be saying.
"Till death, till the end.
This we'll defend."
Hooah.

That ever elusive line shifts moment to moment.
Even demons have their place,  
Make deals and trade the ****** for the distraught.
But he who walks the dark crevices in the dragon-land is not so.
It sounds like you have been flirting with Death.
I do not condemn you, I have done the same.
She promised me release and blew goosebumps into my skin.
Because Death changes,
And looks different to all.
Death has no place here to hold.
And no role to fulfill.
Take me to him,
Transfer my concious to yours.
The dragons are no longer the enemy.
I shall stand with them,
Fight tooth and claw.
I shall send Death back to its own realm,
Rip its throat out,
Snarl my victory to the shadows and make them flee .
He will burn.
The dragons will leave,
Recompense for ridding them of the Devil.
Then you will have no need for the monster,
And I will still be here.
Though dealing with wolves can be distasteful.
My silver tongue does not lie.
Do we have a deal?

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...

It's a morbid comfort
Knowing that each time
My heart beats
Draws it closer
To the day it finally stops.

Most wild animals don't like being touched.
You look at me quizzically,
Before reaching closer.
That's what I am.
An animal.
You may not think so,
But it's true.
An amused smile crosses your lips.
Oh, if you only knew the danger you were in.
One thing about wolves.
We like to bite.
Your eyes go a little wider, you grin,
And tuck your hair behind your ear.
Daring me to.
That's okay
You say.
Do it.
And I lose control.
It's more of a tender bite.
You inhale.
That's weird.
I think.
Usually when I bite, something dies.
A soft laugh.
*But I like it

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

I come from a place where the shadows, they breed, in back alleys and give birth to bad things.
They feed them with greed, and they nest in the trees 'til decay kills the branches that snap free.
Some people say that it's not all that bad, we'll survive as long as we believe.
But I don't believe that this thing called belief gauruntees a future that I'll see.

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.

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

I've reached the low
I'd gladly take any of those
Who've wronged me
Just to avoid spending
Another night alone