There is a woman, her name is anonymous, she's strong and has an understanding of the ominous. She lives in a house with an infinite view on top of mount Olympus where she grew up battling Ares and learned that life doesn't have to be so serious. Kissing a poem like her is why I'm wishful, to feel the silk underneath her clothes is what keeps my chest slow and blissful. As a poet I'll call her Athena, the one who's anger can devour the flesh of anyone who enters her arena, a goddess in her own right, she even has three golden apples from Eris, sitting atop a bowl of emeralds in her eye, its quite the sight, when I look into them I feel like I'm going to lose all control and fall to her every whim so I must fight, fight until she stays with me another night.

There's a burn my body always feels in the heart of December when the sense of ice grates underneath my fingernails as if their being dismembered, sometimes I walk through the motions and look forward to someone who can blow cold shards of glass down my neck until my skin is bloodied and tattered just so I can feel an arch of any sensation that may break the numbing weight that's collected through the years of an uneasy mind screaming to forget but only remembers. This leads to nowhere faster and faster every year without time in its grasp, I know I'm alone in a universe where its space is cold and my fear steers the broken mast to the black hole that leads somewhere outside my soul. The sound of teeth that can't stop the chatter accompany me until they shatter like glass onto my black and blue limbs mauled by the frost built up from passing thoughts that have never even seemed too matter. Its a sad thing to go insane when sanity is abundantly growing like daisies on top of a shallow grave, like a feeling of love turned into hatred because something had to misbehave or like a child beaten and left in the rain just waiting to be saved, all we can do is stay awake and look forward while we try to stay brave.

My head is over swelling, my heart is overwhelming, i've been trying to deal with this fear but no promises are forthcoming. Abused intentions create these walls you have put up around me, tortured ambitions mummify the air that surrounds me, cremated passion falls from above like black rain making it hard to see, dreams are projected from my obsidian eyes onto a silver screen woven from a life of lies. Truth only hurts when you become afraid of the pain, learn to overcome this this hurt and you'll just have to suffer with the shame. In these last moments I have no one to blame and everything is well in my head as i prepare to take aim, a clock on the wall counts down to the twilight while I inhale the last cold breath of the night, peace is all i hope to gain so i pull the trigger and the last things i hear are sounds of thick pounding rain.