The pipes inside my head are about to burst
I will flood my heads basement with words I will never speak
I will write them on firewood
Watch them burn as the ashes of what I wish to whisper in your ear, wisp away on a cool summers breeze
To an island of misguided momentary thoughts
Where they will perish
Along with desire

Blanket me with love
After you embroider it with hatred
Careful as not to pick your fingers with the needle
Your wrists show scars
Your knuckles crooked and broken
Your thumbs and palms the only remnants of daydreams without nightmares

Smoke is filling my bones
The carcinogenic ghosts of an irish ancestory
At war with my german temper
Fueling the fire
To a heart that beats for belonging
Keeping me in step with the frostbitten sidewalks
Of a December morning
Lips moist from french vanilla cappuccino
And your chapstick

Smoke is filling my bones
I'm rolling through my own fingertips
Losing touch with my own reality
Wondering if my knuckles are white from clenched fists
Or the grip around your palm

Smoke is filling my bones
You don't smoke
Yet you fill your lungs with my exhale
Breathe me in
I'll house myself in your capillary beds
Where I'll tuck myself in for the night
Listening to what makes your heart tick

I'll drop a twenty dollar bill into the take-a-penny tray at the local gas station today
A tiny donation to the broken mother with four kids who needs a tank of gas to get her to a job that barely pays her the money she needs to feed her children
She goes without tonight

I'll smile at the Walmart door greeter this week
An acknowledgement that will ripple through her subconscious to tell her that suicide is not an option
The boy on check out lane 4 is

I will pull over expeditiously for the ambulance racing by
The new father to be is craddling his newborn baby
Crying out helplessly while his fiance bleeds on their new kitchen floor
Her life will not be lost today

Your reactions to the world around you are what show the world that it does not revolve around you
You revolve around it
Feet planted firmly
Gravity holds down the ability to stay content to my skin like microbs burying into a foreign body

Hold the door tomorrow
You might meet your reason to wake up

Ice blue eyes
Sharp as the serrated edges of a chainsaw blade
Carving my frozen heart
To conform to your fringerprints

Feather soft lips
Rose colored by nature
Speak words of silk
To dress my **** perception
Of what happiness could be

Golden straw hair
The farmer of flowing cornstalks
They bloom the scent of revival
A harvest moon illuminates their beauty

Wine bubbles burst
Pops replaced with giggling
A drunken serenade
To pull whiskey breathed sailors
Near their soon sunken imagination
Premonitions showing their fantasy

A toast to the woman
Who shall teach bronze haired children
With her brilliance
Coupled with cunning of their father
May she be happy in my dreams
Where she has yet to emerge
From it's dreary depths

There are archers in rooftops 270 meters to my east
They account for the wind
They feel the humidity as the air condensates on the back of their neck
Crawling down their spine
They inhale
Let out their carbon in a slow steady sigh
Their target is at the door to my dorm room

My door creeks open
The archers let the cord to their payment slide down the mountainous ridges on the end of their fingers
One archers whispers "for freedom"
The arrow soars to the window that lets light pour onto my covers

Glass shatters
The thud of a body falls to the floor
I sit up
A thousand grasshoppers replace my bones
The hairs on my arms are attentive

The lights illuminate my illusions
I stare at my own body on the floor
I fall to my knees
Meeting my eyes to the dead stare so familiar in mirrors
Finally
This monster is dead

A ****** arrow stands from his forehead
From his toes to his hair, he falls to ashes
The broken window letting in a breeze that vaccums the ashes from the room
All that's left
An arrow stuck to my floor

The arrow penetrates a photograph
I lift the picture to take a closer look
A hole covers the eyes
What gives it away is the smile
The complection

Finally
This monster is dead

I just want to know
When a beautiful smile
Will be more
Than just another
Lost cause