There's a woman whose invisible when I'm awake, she's just a dream of who I chased in life, who's shoulders carried such weight that each step caused a quake, a force of nature is what she is, a new universe, somthing she's ready to charge out and take.

A dream in the night

She's a vision of both light and dark in place where they medley between dimensions, she's the type that always runs away from her family's predictions and has no time for her own admitions, the kind to stay calm when the wind picks up, without a care of the world's intentions, she brings out her poetry book and writes down all her ambitions.

A fire so bright

She has dreams of touching the stars no matter how hot they'd turn out to be, she'd welcome the black fingers and charred palms so long as there's a new horizon to see, new lands to brave, focus frontal and astral dust in her tracks as she speeds across nations and over every sea, never to live a relapse.

A drug without addiction

No dreams of being a cover girl, she enjoys the dirt on her hands and laughter in the air while dancing on expectations of failed people who couldn't bare to dance with someone who just wasn't afraid of the stares, she just brushes it off like autumn leaves in her hair.

A life without conviction

Strong enough to take on a giant but brittle to the touch, she refused help every turn of the way and chose to take the punch, stubborn and reliable, someone who gives all they can even when it ain't much.
 
Always so strong

She's a dark light in the golden sun with her Auburn hair, pale complexion, and emerald eyes, she's a bright dream in the moonlight with her ruby lips, colorful songs, and complex inquiries into maybes, hows, and whys.

I never thought you could be gone

Everyone has an end like the weaning breath of a dieing dream but no one would have thought a dream would end its self.

Always so wrong

A perfect funeral for an almost perfect person, perfect sounds to describe an almost perfect memory, your smell on my jacket brings the end to an almost perfect day.

A conclusion to your favorite song

You taught the world the meaning of saying goodnight and taught me the meaning of waking up to say, come whatever may, no matter how wrong or right.

Captured as a slave to the Moon from underneath the canapés, this nights pain has no ease while drums thump as fast as heart beats.

Dragged through massive gates and drudged through a city of mud, tearing apart from the inside without knowledge of which God we should hate for our blood.

Stripped and painted with dirt while we're led up the structure where we know we'll be hurt, kept in line as not to disturb the stream of blood from bodies which it spurts.

Bodies tumble down to the cadence of stomping crowds and fire flares to the sounds amping cheers.

Broken bodies are fed to the snearing hounds once darkness begins to blanket this city and its crown.

This place is their temple and these stairs lead to our sacrifice on top of an alter, a tragedy of buckling knees and malice in the form of a knife that will strike without falter.

Under this Blood Moon our lives are sealed while our people are killed, this night has no light for the weak or strong willed, the only solace is that they may yet drown in all the blood that has been spilled.

I leave this place.
The clouds of humiliation hang heavy,
drenching my naked skin.
The air damp with shame.

Looking back at the town
called worry and torment.
My naked form ridiculed and put in stocks
as the towns folk aimed their best.
My time was served
for no crime that I committed.

And I am now leaving.
To wander the hills and woodland once again.
To find my peace.

My rucksack now packed with my hopes,
like Lambas bread.
A small cake of it
would feed a grown man for a day,
even with a hard march ahead.
I know there are many in my bag.
Enough to last a lifetime.

My water skin filled with laughter,
drinking deeply to quench my thirst.
I know the clear springs I find
will fill my bottle to the brim.

My dreams are worn about me,
as the finest cloth,
To give me warmth at night
and to hide me from my foe.
Their colour indiscernible,
neither grey nor green.
The soft Hithlain hangs about my shoulders
clasped with a broach of comfort.

I wear my friendships under my garments,
keeping them close to my heart.
As strong as Mithril.
And just as beautiful.

My map shows the way to happiness,
just over the horizon.
Away from this town.

The sun shines through the trees,
showing me the way.
The only thing I can trust is that it will rise in the east
and will set in the west.
Everything else will be met with caution.
A lesson well learned.

My heart is light,
my mind clear,
I know the way ahead will be led
only by my own footsteps.
Walking barefoot to the new lands that await me.

Running,
happy,
waving my map...

I'M GOING ON AN ADVENTURE!!!!

:O)

I hope you are unhappy wherever you are.
And may you always lose the keys to your car.
May your underwear be uncomfortable all your life
and may you hit all the red lights whenever you drive.
May your upstairs neighbor party all night long
and may the radio never play your favorite song.
May your skin never reach the smoothness of silk
and may your cookies break when you dip them in milk.
Because I don't want you dead for just hurting me
But I wish for you that tiny extra bit of misery.

Violence is real and natural. Multidimensional, it exists in every form of life. Its visceral, it shears through the thickest ice, survives the coldest vice and won't shatter when thrown from incredible hieghts.

Violence is quick and unjust.
It swiftly infects the blood then slowly turns a useful mind to rust, takes away all that someone is and replaces it with formaldehyde and sawdust, it wants to watch as the body succumbs to deaths lust.

Violence is hard and true.
It's an event, a car crash that forced a woman out of the windshield like a 12 gauge slug pumped straight into the heart of a child who's witnessed skin hanging from the hole his mother just went through.

Violence is in the air like a pathogen, infecting us with an experience that executes our innocence, genocide, created from hate by that precious few.
In one dimension or another, it's the backbone of every great nation and of all life, it's nothing new.

Bubbling skin surrounds the mind, lungs will collapse after given enough time, ears peel to the sound of blame, the heat burns from the essence of shame.

Anxiety fills the heart while the mind bleeds, fire spits on your life as your mind races at careless speeds, **** that thing called fate, never neglect the hate.

Anger is your weapon drawn from the fire that surrounds you, brush the coals away from your eyes, look around and decide who needs to experience the perditious cries.