She takes a breath
without air
Looking around
with a closed eye stare
A lifeless face
A silent sound
An ending taste
of the world around
The rich earth her bed
And a stone for a pillow
Where she will forever
lay her head.

I wait for sweet rains
anticipation broken
by my surrender.

I will never remove you from my brain's synapses altogether,
Particles, dust-speckles, piceous ashes of you, broken half of
Where the crowning splinter lies.
Heffalump-bray, Big-bird whistle, and feverish laughter
Sink from your tiny lips.
It's worse than preschool television programming.

Maybe you consider yourself a god.
Mouth-rush, crooked sickle-spine, of the cranes' dead oath,
Or like some hindered devil at the reeds on your tongue.
Seven years I have worked with the crutch, and worried

Like arc-lightning, thickly-paned, frail as a frostbow,
Palely lit uvula at the glowing alter.
I am none closer now. To amend the acres where my feet wallow blindly.
The shivering, baroque, tumuli where my splinters clear my steel-hide.

An orchestral bow of crimson blight,
I had dredged supinely through the pithy Latin vowels.
Like the month of a flower, hitched to the acanthine wings of a moth.
The moon clung to your shivers and sickness.

No longer can I keep my hair to frosty old anarchies.
Nights, heaped on the bowels of a smoky weir.
The blank stones that struck my hands of warning.
Beside the clogged, rancorous doom I had reflected

I'm afraid that when i wake up, you are with somebody else, and forget all our precious moments. Look there, you move on so quickly while I'm still left behind thinkin about us.

It's really hard to open up
Share the most personal thing going on
Then to find the one to trust
Others will use it against me
Try to make me look weak
Try to dominate me
And think they're so much above me
They can't see themselves
They're not aware
They don't know what makes them tick
They don't even care
They're out there to get theirs
And they'll stomp on people's toes
To let them know to get out of their way

Is that how I should be, an *******?
Is that how I should act, with no consideration?
My mom taught me from right and wrong
And church set me on a good direction
Now I'm not religious by no means
And can't tell you how things work
But I'm not a ******* by no means
I can act like a ****
I can act like an *******
Everyone has that temptation
I try to think good thoughts about people
But most of the time I have lost faith in humanity
I haven't lost faith in the Universe
But when it comes to the behaviors of others
I'm kind of lost for words
I can't be too ******* others
Because I have acted out in one time or another
And I'm still learning how to tame my ego
But when people just don't care about someone else
And doing all their power to make trouble
That's where I lose faith
Isn't there any hope in humanity
Or are we just ****** up individuals trying to make a name?
A good reputation is good
And a bad one is good
Just depending on how the person views it
It's still attention
And I feel that's all people care about
They want that attention
It should be on them
Good or bad
It's still attention
I know I was that way at a time
It's called being a child

So all the ones that are troublemakers
Go **** yourselves
You're nothing to me
Just a **** in the wind
We're all going to return to dust
Skeletons buried in the ground
Or taken to the fire
Either way
What should it matter?
Go **** yourselves
All the attention seekers
Grow the **** up
And leave me out of the drama

At night, after having paid
Money coins we just had made,
We enter the gates of fun;
Playing games of the arcade.

We're covered under neon,
Until the bright times of dawn,
Surrounded by beeps and peeps,
Playing games of the arcade.

How beautiful is this night!
Where each thing glitters at sight,
Fueled by the gushing coins while
Playing games of the arcade.

It's too late for the neon lights
too early for the dawn
my world is poised
suspended breath
not quite sleeping
yawning creeping.....dawn

The silence breaks a fragile egg
shatters with the robins song
Introduction to construction
The industry of dawn

and all the magic spells I held
with bated breath
are gone

A man against his world
forging on

Roosty