Someone smiled at me today.
I went to dinner,
And the hostess eyed me and batted her eyelashes.
She should have taken a deeper look.
Maybe the corners of her eyes would have creased,
When she was in disbelief of what she found.
She would have frowned in concentration
As my scars surfaced and danced across my skin.
An American Flag burned into my forearm.
She would have seen my mind racing,
And my defenses kick in.
She would have realized how it would affect me.
How she could break me,
With the smile from a stranger.

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.

Outside the window
Resides a colorless world.
The cloud is gray and all else is white.
The pane is dotted with elegant flakes,
The roads and walks are covered.
The perfect day for staying in,
Wrapping up with your love
Under a warm blanket.
And maybe later,
A war with projectiles
Of packed frozen water,
Perhaps?

My eyes open.
The world is millions of different hues,
Yet limited to black, grey and white.
Everything seems to shimmer,
The outlines constantly shifting.
Then I know where I am.
The blood spatter on the carpet still there,
A ****** handprint on my guitar.
The knife is still stuck into the wall,
Where I left it.
Stained sheets and towels sit in a pile,
A crimson mountain of past misery.
A shirt sits rumpled on the floor.
I pick it up,
And see a groaning hole
Where I cut out the US Army logo.
This is the day after I got back.
Pleading words cut into a chipped wooden desk.
A trail of red circles leading toward the bathroom door...
Non vincere bello fortis.
"A warrior without a war to win"
But I'm not a warrior at all.
At least,
Not anymore.

Ah, someday...
I remember that word.
Full of certainty that tomorrow would be better.
Forgive me for being stubborn, but the future isn't set.
A trigger pull is a split second decision.
And the future isn't always there for us to look forward to.
More often we agonize over its coming.
The what ifs and hypothetical reactions.
Waking up in the morning to push through another day.
Another day of pressure from all directions.
Another siege.
I've warned you.
Now your actions are your own.
If you are set on stealing a dragon's scale,
Just be prepared for the possibility you may be burned alive.
You seem determined.
The board is set up, the pieces straight.
Make the first move
...If you dare?

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.

Too tired to sleep
And I know my dreams
Will be soaked in
Blood and sweat
And waking up
Means blaming myself
For the friends I lost
All over again

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.

We're all the same,
Yet different beyond words.
We all lack something,
And search fruitlessly for it.
Yet we all search for something different.
Recognition,
Power,
Love,
Money.
The list is literally endless.
But I'm not searching for something.
It seems I'm searching for someone.
Not to have and to hold,
Not to love or to lose.
I search for an old friend.
Someone I know well yet have never met.
I'm hoping he'll lead me home.
But Death is never very accommodating.
Besides,
How does the old saying go?
You'll always find what you seek in the last place you look.

Oh the songs,
The stories,
Misappropriated words,
Misspoken information.
Choose your side,
But when your allegiance
Is based on lies,
Your very defense of your point
Is a mistruth in of itself.
So run your mouth,
But I've got
A bullet for
Every person
Who falls for your
Fearful facade.
And my trigger finger
Is definitely getting itchy.

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

Well, hello there.
I won't be here long.
Just wished to greet old friends.
Figured while I was about
I could slightly lessen
My overabundance of words.
Lately they seem to trip,
Sometimes stumble over each other.
My mind still screams,
But it is subdued.
My scars are still there,
But they have faded somewhat.
I do miss you all,
Playing games of words.
Tossing similes across the way,
Almost like playing literary dodge ball.
Anywho,
I wish you all the best,
Of pain I wish you less.
~The Silvertongue~

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've danced for so long,
Driven by the ambitions of others.
Any girl that wandered into the dusty back room,
Picked me up off of my hook
And gave me music to dance to
Was the girl I loved.
For so long,
I danced and danced,
But then I was set aside
Until discovered again.
Each time the current puppeteer grew tired of her toy,
She would drop me in a heap.
And so happened time and time again.
With each new puppeteer I changed a little more,
Until I no longer felt the need to dance.
Then, after a while of thinking,
I stoop up and walked over to a desk in the corner.
In the desk there was a drawer.
In the drawer was a knife.
And now my strings are gone.
I still dance sometimes,
But I dance by myself,
Not driven by a need to be loved.
But by a need to maintain my insanity.
This makes little sense I guess.
What do you expect?
I'm just a little wooden puppet.
With no strings,
No puppeteer,
And no hook to hang on.
Even Pinocchio got out from time to time.
But that little ******* wasn't aware of how ******* lucky he really was.

The strings quake
Mournful reverberations
Echoing off the walls.
Note by note
A story is told
Until the song ends.
And the feeling lingers.

Sometimes we try too hard,
Sometimes not hard enough.
Its difficult to find the air of
Effortless perfection that
We wordsmiths hold so dear.

A hero?
Me?
Laughable.
I've broken many things,
Hearts, bones,
Mine and theirs.
I'm a menace,
A monster.
I promise,
If you don't idealize me,
I won't save your ******* city,
And the villain can keep the girl.

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.

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.

There are no more razor blades,
My parents started locking the door to the garage
And I'm not allowed in the kitchen anymore.
They took my belts,
Hid my bootlaces,
And my guitar sits unstrung.
The medicine cabinet is locked,
My father finished his whiskey,
And the gas can and matches are locked in the garden shed.
No way to drown the pain.
No way to use it against myself.
So it rots.
And I decay.

I don't know what it is.
It seems I'm slowly receding
Into the Earth on which I am seated.
The wolf on the inside tries to snarl and fight.
It tears and scratches at the steel doors of my conscious,
But I ignore it and continue with my melancholic musings.
To tell the truth maybe this is for the best.
I won't be in the way anymore.
So I can't inconvenience others
And I won't decieve myself into thinking I'm helping them.

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

On the final day
Does the pain give way?
When I bring myself to my end
Will I finally be happy?
Will the freedom from
Flesh and feeling
Allow me to spend eternity
Alone with the universe?
Only one way to find out.

He saw her,
Eyes piercing the darkness
To seek him out.
She seemed to be thinking heavily,
Hanging over the fence that divided them.
He saw her everyday ordeals,
The facade she put on to pass through the sunlight unmarred.

The light never crossed the divide,
Because of his own doing.
He had control of the shadows
And they protected him.
They still hissed at him sometimes,
Weren't always friendly,
But they never but him.
They knew he would bite back.

You see, controlling The Shadows was easy.
He simply bound them to the song.
A song that reverberated in his very being.
They knew he had nothing to lose.
They feared him.
He had always been more comfortable in the dark,
It spoke of silent beauty and danger.
He'd been breeding them because he wanted to further his territory,
But he couldn't bring himself to darken the rest of the world.
The result was a swirling vortex where the shadows frolicked,
For now they had a domain,
And a keeper,
All their own.

Day after day,
The Girl would sigh,
Hop down off of the fence,
And secure her mask.
It covered tired eyes and an accusing frown.
Once the mask was in place,
The others didn't see a difference,
But he could see the lines where her skin ended and the lie began.

The eyes were too cold,
The smile too shallow.
Her laughs rung hollow.
And each day,
She had to tear it from her face,
With more difficulty each time.

He missed her that morning.
He started over as she hopped down and put her mask on.
That night he was waiting for her on the other side of the fence,
His guitar slung across his back.
The shadows followed like they always did,
One flanking each side.
As if they are silent sentries.
He stood silently as she approached,
Wondering if she saw him,
And what she would say when she arrived.

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...

Perhaps I made the wrong choice of words.
Of course you wouldn't be making me fight.
Savagery is my forte,
And combat is in my wheelhouse.
While having something...
Someone
To fight for, shall spur me onward.
I have no need for armor,
My teeth and claws will do just fine.
I would never regret fighting the war.
Liberating the mind of Alice from the evil things.
A deal is a deal of course.
But the terms were not set.
So a deal was never actually agreed upon.
Let it sufice to say that I will accept any recompense you deign to give.
I trust your judgement.
A contract is not necessary.
Nor is it appropriate.
We'll just make it up as we go along.
No worries.
Any sacrifices made would be worth it.
It's not every day you get to see the inside of a gingerbread house,
Or plant magic beans.
Unfortunately I'll have to exchange something other than my soul for them.

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.

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

I think I know you.
Stories of fire and fallen angels,
Intermixed with teardrops,
Frozen on the edges of eyelashes.
If I do, I apologize.
I've never been good at making the right call.
If I don't...
Well then never mind.

You may think you know me,
A man with flight born of shadows,
In love with flickering flames,
And a tendancy to turn wolflike.
I tend to use my teeth only after my walls fall,
And even then I'm prone to giving priority to a rebiulding.
If you do, I apologize.
I'm not much worth knowing.
If I don't...
Re-read line 8.

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.

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

I'm a battered ship,
Adrift in stagnant waters.
My hull is cracked and I'm slowly sinking.
My masts are snapped,
Crows nest shattered on the deck.
My sails are torn,
Too ragged to harness the wind.
I was abandoned after the battle,
Labeled a loss.
The Captain decided I would sink in my own.
I'm wishing she'd helped me along.
Now I'm waiting,
Hoping I break up against the rocks,
Or breach my hull on a coral reef.
I'll be at peace at the bottom of the ocean.
Where the tide can't pull me back into that vicious cycle I know all too well.

I try to be
Bigger
Better
Faster
Stronger
I try to stay away
Distant
Isolated
Encapsulated
Unreachable
I try to fool myself to think I'm
Invincible
Unbeatable
Unbreakable
The master
I do know this
I am not the silver tongue
He manifests himself when he wants
I'm not nearly as talented
As eloquent
He is what I could never be
Yet his words pour from my pen
I am a tool
Nothing more

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.