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.

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.

I drown the sorrows in the strongest thing I can get my hands on.
An acoustic guitar thrums in the background,
The light rapping of a hi-hat keeps pace.
My eyes are bleary and half focused,
A tear runs a track down my cheek.
I wake up in the morning,
The speaker still on
And still going.
For a moment,
The world seems better.
Until the yelling starts upstairs.

Even if I told you the truth,
Would you believe it?
Or would I need to spin a new story
So you could happily accept a falsehood?

Maybe I'm mistaken.
It seems when I look ahead,
There's a figure.
He's hunched over a pitted six string,
Plucking, playing and making it ring.
I recognize the songs,
But I don't know where from.
All I know is that the shadows gleefully frolick as he plays.
They multiply and scatter.
As the guitar sings faster and seems to scream,
They keep in time.
And just when I get close enough to see,
The figure turns and grins,
It's me.
Then I realize I practice the same songs,
Over and over every night.
Me, who whispers of darkness to the world,
Who urges the shadows to breed and be bold.
But of course,
I don't believe in fate.
But I do believe in wishful thinking.
Because I know myself.
I'd much rather infect the darkness,
And twist it to my own use.
I'll be ****** if I become its victim instead.

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.

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.

I've pondered your words.
The ones that danced so elegantly across the page.
Those that held no fear, no regrets.
I should tell you...
The walls you wish to unravel aren't just there for my protection.
They keep in a monster.
Others can testify, I am no angel.
My tongue of silver has rarely been used for good.
And I don't feel any inclination to use it for good in the future.
I've broken my fair share of hearts,
Shattered my fair share of dreams,
And ended more than my fair share of lives.
I was trained to **** and then booted back into the streets.
I was charged with anger and released, deemed useless.
This situation is an example...
Look inside yourself. Analyze your feelings.
And think about what I could do to the world if I really tried.
Love is beneath me at this point,
And companionship fades quickly.
I don't think my walls are coming down anytime soon.
Nor do I think you should try scaling them.
Inside are my dreams,
Which equate to most people's nightmares.

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 have
Nowhere to hide.
There's a vacuum within,
And my skin is naught but mirrors,
Reflecting the world back unto itself.
People see the norm when they look at me because no real part of me breaches the surface.
It's all
consumed
and compacted,
Ever more to hold in an ever shrinking space.
I wait, wary for the day I know is coming.
When instead of compacting it expands,
Because then, nobody will be safe from what escapes.

I live in a den in the land of the dragons,
A place where the sunshine rocochets off of every surface and monsters are the most human beings around.
I stalk the woods and do not shy from battle. Even dragons have turned from me.
Unseen in the shadows,
Eyes of liquid gold,
With a silver tongue trapped behind sharp teeth.
I could talk my way out of trouble,
But honestly, where's the fun in that?

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.

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!

It's unnerving
To scream silently
Into a void
And be greeted
By deafening silence

I walk a slumbering city,
Shuffling through an endless inky cloud.
90 minute walk to the house.
I can't even call it home anymore.
Home is where the heart is
And my heart can't even find itself.

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 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.

She was the first to read it all.
The sprouts peeked through the dirt.
She watered them with wonder.
My masterpieces shot up, a testament to her.
But now she's gone.

You know, inspiration is in short supply.
I'm addicted, have been since we first talked.
Now my source has disappeared.
My metaphors seem strained.
And the pen seems foreign on my fingertips

Where are you?
Have you given up?
Given in to this world we used to laugh at?
Or are you still waiting...
For your angel with a shotgun?

The whispers have returned.
You still don't matter...
You really thought you were done with us?
End it and we'll leave you alone...
I turn to the shadows,
But they hiss in anger and gesture.
They point towards the opposite corner,
On the side of the room with working lights.
Three people stand there.
Their eyes are sewed shut,
Their mouths always open,
And they each hold a needle and thread.
We're still here.
You've lost more of those that cared.
We're getting closer.
More start to gather,
Until I'm faced with a horde of those I trusted.
The shadows screech and stand between us.
The only protection I have.
It's only a matter of time until you have nobody.
You know the rest will turn their backs soon.
They always do.
They're right.
So now I wait,
Sitting in a corner,
Surrounded by shadows.
I have a knife in my right hand.
Like a General waiting for his capture,
So that he can end everything.
Sed tantum de tempore...
*"It is only a matter of time."

A sorrowful tide
Sweeps away the leaning trees
And scatters the sagging fences
The world beneath is flooded
As the clouds weep their loss
And creeping creatures scurry to
Break the surface least they lose their air.
The fury of forty days and forty nights
Is unleashed in a mere forty seconds.
And as soon as it has begun,
It ends.
The tide slides back into the sea,
The soaking sheets return to the clouds,
The worms breathe a sigh of relief.
It is over for now.

It may be a finite resource,
But it's most precious.
Rich with iron,
The only ****** fluid with
Which you can smith
A sword.
You know I've always
Felt more at home
In the dark.
Treading water
Is sometimes
Too much.
And I'll return to
The dirt when
It's my time
To do so.
The only thing that
I know for sure
Is that pain doesn't
Feel real
Unless it comes from within.

My eyes may not be kind,
Or a light happy blue.
But that is because they are tainted
By the things they've seen.
Grime and unpleasantness
Will build up.
But you can still look through broken windows,
No matter how cracked.
But that's only if there's something on the other side to see.

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.

You said I shouldn't have ignored you today.
That you wanted to talk to me.
That you didn't mean to bother me but I should've answered.
I told you I was in a mood.
Not to take it personally.
I avoided everyone today.
You told me that I shouldn't be an *******.
This.
You
Are the ******* reason I spent all day,
Sitting on my bed,
Strumming my guitar.
Playing the same songs over and over.
I could've hung myself from the rafters instead of restringing it.
But I didn't.
Maybe I should have.
At least then I wouldn't have to deal with the hypocrites that make me want to in the first place.

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.