I stand behind a pane of glass,
it's tinted, from outside.
Friends in front will speak to me,
But they see only their tinted reflections.

I've often wondered, while I walk,
and watch as people pass,
Why when their glance turns to me,
None will meet my eye?

I'm a listener, you should know,
I listen, rarely speak.
My life's a bore, why should I?
But I wish that they would care.

When I do speak,
they look away, and they cringe inside.
I know its lame, I know, I heard.
And I wish my mouth stayed shut.

I'd meet a lesson kindly,
if it'd dilute my window's tint.
But for now, I watch, as clear as day,
While they speak to me through darkened glass.

In absence,
A lost key is only
                   A catastrophe,
When the door is locked from the outside,
And everything important is within.

That is when we are reaquianted,
With an old concept.
One that can occur to anyone-
                              If they have the mind to lose the key.
It is the called,
                  The snowball effect.
When we are to leave without our prizes inside.
And all that is taken for granted,
Is kept beyond the width of a door.

But most of all, there is one,
Who will again take for granted his prizes,
And lose them along the way.

And although, these are not materialistic prizes,
They are prizes of greater worth than any
Kept behind that blasted door.

When these, his friends,
Give sacrifice, and he cares not to thank them.
When these, gifts to an undeserving man,
Are asked yet again, and these favors are not repaid.

This, is the snowball effect.
Something that can occur to anyone,
                    -if they have the mind to take their prizes for granted
Or ever have the idiocy to lose the key that unlocks them.
For locked out he may be,
This man has lucked out.

We all hear of wishes
But there are two types out there.
Those which all wish for
And those that wish for similar reasons.

I wish I could fly for its freedom.
                                               I wish for wings to escape from here
                                                                                         and start over.

As I've said before, and I'll say it once more,
My heart was born in the ground,
Raised by the sea,
And housed in the trees,
And that's why I love them so.

In separation,
My soul was lifted on wind,
Traveled by light,
And slept in the clouds,
And that's why I love them so.

For my heart and soul are one,
One that has yet to meet me.
One that carries nature on his shoulders.
And that's why I love him so.

He and I are separated still,
Distanced by time,
Lost in the woods,
And brought closer by opposite currents.

We are carried by will
Followed by fate,
Inspired by others
And freed by blue skies.

And that's why I love them so.

Billowing, bounding, bumping,
through a cracked, white door
a bouncy, fluffy, white puppy flies.

The ground is soaked, saturated.
From the ever melting snow.
Water rises, water falls,
with a step upon the grass.

The breeze blows cold, shivering,
Stings my face in welcome.
It should be so, I think to myself.
The snow is melting still.

The puppy barks, sharp and clear,
but I bear no notice there.
For on the wind, there's something strange.
A smell that's out of place.

It makes me miss the summer sun,
It makes me miss the green.
Miss the sound of a rushing stream,
and a cloudless, sky of blue.

A smell so strange, I chase it,
As it whips away with the wind.
It stops me at the glaring gate,
And laughs in a freeing voice.

Come back! I wish it,
But in vain, I smell it nevermore,
I miss the smell as it's gone,
Flower petals mixed with rain.

My soul, so dark, what things it lures!
What things that writhe into my pores!
With teeth like stones
they devour my bones,
And slip past my heart's ice locked doors.

My soul, so dark, with evil it teems.
It blinds you and, and breaks you, with ravens' black screams
Stream into flood,
It chokes you with blood,
And send shadows to skulk and to stalk through you dreams.

My soul, so dark, what demons it hives!
What demons that pose as emotion's disguise!
It robs you your trust,
It's blinded by lust,
And forever it lies, and it lies, and it lies.

My soul, so dark, what hell it demands!
What hell, that will grab you with soot-covered hands!
Its fires go on,
In the dark, in the dawn,
And the devil will curse you and laugh his commands.

My soul, so dark, what sadness it sighs,
What sadness that fills out your head with its cries!
The heartache that breaks,
From tears, into lakes
And strength that burns up, withers, and dies.

The snap of sparks from cloth on skin
                         lifts
The hope that         from dark to dim.
The sound of rain-
                                 and groaning trees.
A storm's great bowels, a rumbling breeze.
The lilting scent of sweetened air,
Skin on skin, that's soft; that's fair
A sky that waves with colors afar,
A glow that blinks in a child's jar.
The whipping  rise of adrenaline rush,
                                                           ­          The peaceful repose of a library's hush.
The winter's bite; the wind's white claws,
The child shrieks, the crow, caws.
                                     on
The hair that stands                  at night.
                                            end
The awe that strikes the morning light.
    The two-faced smoke that ~swirls~
                                                                ­that chokes.
That clever doubt, that probes- that pokes.
The pitch that screams a piercing beat!
                              ~the air that soothes the ceaseless heat~
Cigar smoke, and creaking doors;
                                                          ­stealth that fails by squeaking floors.
A favored picture, in weary frame,
The roll of tongue on a lover's name.
The smell of coffee, fresh and
                                                     deep
The Forever Memories our minds will keep.