In my mind, I'm caring for roses.
Reds and pinks exploding
Into dynamic poses.

Sweet aromas dance through my nostrils.
While the vines say "thank you",
By extending their tendrils.

But my hands tell a different story.
The bush lashes out,
Leaving fingers pricked and ******.

Not a single rose in sight.
They've all receded,
Asleep in their longest night.

Sometimes a rose or two will bud.
Blessing me with affection,
Making me think I am loved.

But then it pulls back from the embrace
It digs it's thorns into my flesh,
Reminding me of my place.

It rips away my skin, flesh is exposed,
A burning, raw, painful sensation,
A wound never to be closed.

I know I'm no reason to make room.
But I'll keep tending to this bush,
In hopes that a real friendship will bloom.

i thought you were brave
like me

i thought that we were both sick
but yours is different

you're not sick
you're a coward

anyone who hides behind an internet personality
and sleeps in my bed

is not fit for me.

This boy tells you he loves you?
***** you?
Confesses to you?

but talks about those fat ***** on the internet huh

sounds like that boy is confused

sounds like that boy made the biggest mistake of his life

if he doesn't fight for you
he's not worth fighting for

you danced with me
upon the floorboards
near the worn out
                        tired old
                              dining room table.

           you sat me on
   the beat up
knife-marked
            kitchen counter
and kissed me on the cheek.

i held you on the
                  shabby
threadbare
             blankets of my bed
late that night.

you didn't need anything then.
you need
                  even
                           less
                                  now.

As I struggle for control
the voices  start to grab a hold
daily forcing me to be
something that I just can't be

a violent act, compassionless
left  dying on the street
lying in a pool of blood
ripe for news TV

talking heads relay the tale
ramp up fear  increasing sales
all the while those at the top
pray to god, that it won't stop

For profits are  the result
of their plan to wipe us out
weaken the middle everyday
till only serfs remain to pay.

We're both aware that I'll be first to go,
but don't think for a minute that I'm done
with life and time.  Although end game's begun
there's too much left, too many things to show
the daughters, sons, the grandchildren, and you.
The few uncurdled dreams we still might grasp
and reach, the promises that will not lapse
expired, without redemption will come true
in what years we have left.  Let's make our plans,
adapt to new realities, accept
the finish of the roller-coaster ride,
dismount regretfully, again to stand
on solid ground, content to know we kept
what fragments tired love and peace provide.

You always hear it, of the Cut.
The one that goes too deep.
The one that makes the crimson flow strong, and the pulse weak.
The one that breaks a sibling's heart, and causes tears to fall from a parent's eye.
The one that makes the whole world stop.
The Cut is irreversible. The Cut is final.
And things shouldn't be final.
That's the whole point of living, isn't it?
To write your own destiny, to make things better than they once were.
A moment's sadness may not compare to the lifetime of joy that could be on the horizon.
Yet, it's hard to see when the fog is thick and the sky is bleak.
Just remember the sun is there, waiting for you to feel it.

if you seek to avoid every pain in this life
you have some growing up to do
and sorry, hate to break it to you-
but it's going to hurt.

i am the center of my own disaster;
the victim of my own demise
although i fell in love with the thought of happily ever after
i grew to love the darkened skies

reach out to me
love, open your eyes

i live and breathe for your existence;
are you here for mine?

dancing to silence beneath the glow of the moon
you twirl me in a spin to fast; just a step too soon
i catch a glimpse of my fallen angel,
for he's been watching too

i took the hand of chance and laid beneath the stars
in a moment of passion that had to happen right there; right where we are

an unforgettable unimaginable pair to par

imperfections speak ridicules
to the sanity we seek afar
an addiction to the feeling of being wanted;
yes i do concur
and i solely promise to want you forever
right here in the dark