Everything you say and do,
I still resent you.
And from my heart of hearts,
I wish your horrid, drawn out death
       the easiest of starts.
Your lips breed putrid cologne
That rots me from the cores of bone.
Your presence drags on my flesh to make it crawl
Enough that i'd rather bang my head against the wall.
My poetry even suffers from this burning hate
And leaves it to a simple, rhyming fate.
I crossed the line from passion and grown to detest
The time spent with you, which began so blest.
My mind is bare and uncomplicated thanks to you
So just remember,
Everything you say and do,
I still deplore, detest, and loathe
Myself.

“State your full name for the record.”
       Already guilty before the impartial audience
“Please raise your right hand…”
       Do the hokey pokey, turn the truth around
“Remember, you are under oath.”
       For doing what was right, you’ll be punished to the end
“May the record reflect…”
       …That we couldn’t break this one.
“Call the next witness.”
       Since this one’s honesty bores us
“You are excused.”
       Oh how I wish that were true.

Tell your gods we call for blood
We're stirring hurricanes in your teacups.
It's an instant headache cure at the end of a barrel,
Though a worthwhile gauntlet to continue to breathe.

We’re stirring hurricanes in your teacups
It might be easier to crash and burn.
Though a worthwhile gauntlet to continue to breathe,
We should never measure our breaths to our steps

It might be easier to crash and burn.
Children die from the painful things they learn.
We should never measure our breaths to our steps,
But the dignity in life is too beautiful to regret.

Children die from the painful things they learn
It’s an instant headache cure at the end of a barrel
But the dignity in life is too beautiful to regret.
Tell your gods we call for blood

And the floodgates opened
We watched as the debris floated away
We felt the water lash at the edges
We sang as the rotted things ripped and left
We danced to the heartbeat of the river
We slept with the murky depths surrounding
We breathed the clean air that ran above
We swam through antique transgressions
We coughed old water from weary lungs
We ached with the newfound strength
We reached across and fell in
We drifted down the pristine path
And thanked the gatekeeper as we passed

My heart is pumping
   On the floor.
The blood it cries
   Carries my life away,
      Dripping down the steps.
The memories I hold
   And the love I bring
      Cutting deeper and deeper
         Each moment.
These new wounds
   Have even broken scars
      And revealed the pulpy muscles
         Down below.
Nothing is left now
   Except love.
Light shines through all
   Because there is nothing left
      In shadowy cover.
My heart stopped
   Pumping
      In my hand.


And instead began to glow.

Brittle bones and dulcet tones
Of monitors beeping their last.
In a sunny room with a sinless floor
White sheets of purest perfection
Cover the only blemish
In view of Eden.
A casket of flesh hangs in tranquility
Over the hollow structure of mud and man.
Angels blink and do not see
The raging lacerations cradling
And caressing the final pieces of life
In her.
Her visage drapes to silence the mind
And will never be held again.
The winter of her absence is already felt
As her hands drift away like smoke.
Never took more than was hers,
Now this takes all that ever touched her.
The payment for a well-lived life is love
Hers wandering after the dulcet tones
Do cease.

The terror sunlight brings makes the shadows of the night
       Mere church mice.
The beautiful, waking seconds more disconcerting than sun showers
       Bathed in certain ambiguity.
The moments engrave their records in our eyes,
       Reminding us of our eternal fixation.
The sleight of hand that brainwashes us in favor of long hours of conviction
       Instead of the truth in a storyteller’s gorgeous fiction.
The lies our sight sings to us are only digging deeper in the soft earth,
       Our graves swallowing us as we breathe and don’t speak.
The dirt of the physical, the mud of the popular and the worms that carry them,
       Knitting through my eyes and ears and mouth and nose.
The sweet suffocation of silence will carry me to darkness again
       Where the church mice and I can plot our escape.