The sun awaits
just beyond the horizon.
Time gets scarcer
as it bathes us
in its glow.
And our bodies can only
afford to
crumble to dust.

All that we know,
what we knew,
will only be cast...
Imprisoned.
Within the tight confines
of expiring memory.

We must pave a way
to a secret place.
A route to safety...
One that we could share.
Somewhere only we know.

I'll go to this place
where no one can.
I'll wait and anticipate
your arrival at this place...
A place only we know.

In the marshy lands where Alligators sun themselves and catfish swim in dark murky water. The saw grass grows and the Cattails weave in the wind. When the marsh breezes blow through them, they whistle and sing a song. They speak of long boats and lazy days that have long since gone. When all that a child needed to be happy was a cane pole and a fishing line. In a land that once untouched by the hands of time. Though storms have blown away sand bars and tourist have tried to come in, at the heart of the marsh land change is seldom seen. The Alligators and the catfish, they are still the same and if you go deep enough in, you can still find good fishing cane. So despite what the world says, there is still a place where life moves slow. Just take a trip down to where the Cattails grow.

Imagination change
It can never be as strange as this
Lockdown in the attic
The basement
Even the echoes of the shadows
Show face

I've given up on you
I've forgotten how to italicize
I hope I got it right
I hope

I hope

(By the way, not a part of the poem,
Unless it is,
You decide,
You make bad decisions)

Now these ghost
Are living
Creature of doubt
In my living room
Show teeth

Eat
Eat
Eat
Eat
Eat
Eat
Eat
And never be satisfied

This backlit screen
Becomes host to my worst fear
I've given up on you
When you, gave up on me

There are deeper darks in the night
Most never see

two years
one month
and nine days ago,
i met a girl

this girl was,
in one word,
b u r n i n g

ardent,
but volatile,
she was a fusion of
cold skin and
blazing heart

the heat of her
drew me in
sending my soul of
brittle fingernails and
parched conversation

up in flames

A white caravan , clean and shiny 
drove past many . 
Inside of it was a 
limp and a frail body .
Kidnapped in broad daylight ,
the sun should have illuminated 
the struggle , the evil . 

Despite her struggle , 
she was forced into the vehicle. 
His face is on the news,
that face with a cynical smile 
that still drives his caravan miles 
and miles away from prying eyes.  

She lays on dry blood 
in a car that has stored
loads of corpses 
stored in piles of boxes.  

Far in a field , he gathered 
his tools as his ideas
of human torture 
elated him with joy.
He dragged her by her ponytail 
into a field of blades , acid and knives .

With these tools he has stolen 
innocent lives and 
deformed a face once full of smiles.