Droplets commit their suicides against a window
Never reaching the ground they were promised
Leaving the clouds as hope guides them
Believing they have purspose
To help all grow and restore
But the rain didn't know that it had to die
In order for us to live

My stomach felt like a pit today then I remembered..

It's your birthday.

But you'll always be 24.

Hold still my weary heart
Beat not for life but for love
Keep hold of the thought
For nobility shall be honored

I can't help but think this is a metaphor of sorts
This sitting and waiting
In a vast seemingly endless hall
Outside the door of a friend who didn't answer
Left by a love who thought she did right by me
I can't help but think
That sitting in this hall
Is supposed to mean so much more to me
But I think it's just a metaphor of sorts

Black swan feathers sweep across desertscapes
Revealing an oasis among a barren wasteland
Vines reach to the Heavens as the fruit calls for a feast
Waters with rejuvenating strength run gently down stained stones
Even the Sun seems to embrace the skin instead of blister

What a beautiful mirage to have
Before an unbearable death

At some point
The flaws of reality bored me
So I turned to the mousehole just to my right
When I looked inside I saw what one would expect
A mouse in its hole living its existence
It has no plan for when it leaves
What responsibility does a mouse have?
What bills must you pay?
Whose heart do you break?
How significant are you?
I stared and stared and stared
As the mouse moved from left to right to left again
He wasn't anything like the cartoons
Just another flawed bit of reality in a house never called home
Stepping away
I sit in the chair angled towards his home
Cleverly sitting Indian style
There I sat for an hour, waiting for change
If everything else in this world is so unique
What be of this mouse and his hole?
Emerging its head to look about
Slowly his body pulled from the wall
Suddenly he sat in front the doorway of his home
Protective and honest was he
How silly I was to judge a mouse
When really it had been judging me

Women are a funny thing
Women keep it interesting.
But her... Yes, her. I'd give anything
To wake up with that smiling face
Could be a feeling never replaced
Holding her until the dawn
Watching her put makeup on
Running her baths on long days
Cooking every meal all her ways
Staying when she says to go
Showing her my love just grows
Learning every inch of her
Fingers tips begin to burn
To feel those velvet lips pressed hard
Please cut out my bleeding heart
She's the beauty I've always dreamed
With wits to match; she's everything
Friend: a hard word to bare
Because of it her fiancé's not scared
I'm the one for advice
I'm the call on lonely nights
I should have kept my mouth shut
Feelings determined to be a must
Selfishly I tell her now
Watch the pieces all fall down
Disappointment in her eyes
Thinking it was all lies
Betraying her friendship breaks me in two
But I'd rather this than you never knew...

Pulling tight the strings of my heart as if they'll break any day
Ripping through my spiritual walls as if they were paper mache

Calling to me in every bit of silence
I hear you speaking my name
Whispering how you want me and that no other shall take my place

Crippling ideas of who I should be and what I am through the day
Giving me strength at first glance as that smile comes across your face
Holding tight to my soul like a kid's first grip on a kite

You are my absolute, my everything, my being

And above all else
You give me love and I return it generously

Angel-faced beast

Breathe heavy with *hot embers
Fists facing forward, knuckles white
Silk dipped in milk disguised as skin

How lovely you are in the fall

Burning down where my head may lay
Drag me across the desert landscape
For I am soaked in righteous sin

For you, sweet beastie*

...are my salvation.

What would you say if I was the Angel of Death?
It isn't as far fetched as seemed.
Something seems to always die.
It's my fingers; they're rotting.
See?
My fingers are stained with your rotten flesh.
I once brought life to things.
I watched them grow.
But now I watch them die so slow.  
You'd think I'd be so sad.
But I can not find one sigh.
I told him he had to let go.
See?
He needed me to give him relief.
I'd do the same for all sweet souls.
If they ask me so sweet.
Life isn't about how you die.
It's about how you kick rocks and cry.
He wanted this.
IT'S NOT MY FAULT.
I'M JUST DOING WHAT I'M TOLD.
No one loves an Angel of Death.
Probably due to lack of soul.

1.  Awake
2. Unaware
3. Couldn't Care
4. Craving More
5. "Remember that time.."
6. FIVE
7. Death Relates
8. Orphans
9. Can't Escape
10. Camping Sin
11. Plaid
12. "Going where?"
13. I Misunderstood
14. Scared
15. Terrified
16. "PLEASE DON'T TAKE HER!"
17. Best, My Best
18. Time To Fly
19. Selfish
20. Disgusted By Shy
21. meet my love, my life
22. "No heart, no head. All alone in my bed."
23. Tragedy, My Dearest Friend
24. ...............*to be continued

To be lost in a daze
Body burns for your ways
How those eyes capture my being
Corrupted and twisted
Some call it the 6th sin
The way sometimes we behave
But all that it could be
It shall be and would be
Because you have found new meaning in me
My love, my dear
You've turned gloom to cheer
And this is your poem today

I could be at your front door right now.

Pacing back and forth.
Palms too sweaty to knock.
Heart too full, it could pop.

****.
****.
****.

Knock on the ******* door.

Take her in your arms once more.
Make her cry your name once more.
Make the Earth stand still once more.
Make the Gods shy away once more.

****.
I could be at your front door right now.

Be that soul
Lay in the blue
Consumed
Death's peaceful sleep
Never bent as the bamboo bends
Sincere as the old mountains
Be that soul
Blissfully so

"Cardiomyopathy is a weakening of the heart muscle or another problem with the heart muscle. It often occurs when the heart cannot pump as well as it should, or with other heart function problems. Most patients with cardiomyopathy have heart failure."

In other words, Broken Heart Syndrome.
I have the cutest named disease ever.
They should make a Care Bear.
One with a crumbling heart on the chest.
Make 'em happy as can be.
But not too happy.
Don't want that pesky adrenaline puffing up its chest cavity.
Perhaps we'll make the eyes empty and craving hope.
No one wants a broken doll.
Who would buy such a thing?
'Features: soft plush fur and convulsions'
I guess it's ok.
Broken Heart Syndrome that is.
Because...
Well at least I know I have a heart.

Be we children of the stars
That we feel not the warmth of the Sun
But the warm embrace of our Mother
Perhaps cousin or brother, in fact
That maybe as we stare into the sky
At night that feeling of unknowing is actually knowing
A sense of love
A sense of home
Be we stardust or be we dust
We are here
We are the same
We are together

How beautiful the lighthouse does shine on its hill
Being worshipped by sailors around
How strong and stable and gorgeous is she
Never turning a boat the wrong way round

Little did the sailors know that the lighthouse wasn't alone

The old man hoped and hoped for her
That her light shine bright and glow
And soon enough the light did shine
Brighter than the old man's eyes and soul  

He watched her light proudly every single night
And how she protected those smaller than her
The old man's hope grew to faith and he knew what he had to do

The lighthouse felt a gentle closing upon its always open door
The old man had faith that the lighthouse needed him no more
The faith had grown so much inside that the lighthouse finally knew

She was there to light our ways just as the old man taught her to

It's best to say everything you want to say.

Let the universe have it.

It needs them more than you.

Because those intangible love limbs wrap your soul each night.

And wake you in the morning.

Give the universe your words.

She'll love them through the night.

Buries her sorrows under the sunset.

To raise your dreams in the morrow.

That fresh morning dew is the tears of her youth.

Begotten. Belittled. Forgotten.

Give the universe your words.

She needs them more than you.

Give the universe your words.

She's fallen in love with truth.

the image of perfection tarnished
by human lust and will
eyes of love crumble
as does the will
image of perfection tarnished
burned and killed
who can see the blood stained marble
hanging from the limb
tiny string it does attach
broken knives do ****

Most people
When they think about dying
They blame all the people and all the reasons and all the crimes

But for me
What made you happy

Tell me what made you happy before I go

Tell me how to play dice
Or your favorite band

Tell me something you loved before I go
Tell me something that will help you carry on without me

Everything was placed perfectly
Stars were lined just right
But something in your body
Put up such a fight
I could feel your soul
Merging into mine
But then I'd feel a knife
Cut me down to size
If you needed passion
I could've played that game
If you wanted love
I even would've stayed
You taste like sound
And you move like air
Probably why you couldn't care
My fire burned like several suns
But you just want to play and have fun
I don't know what I've done right here
I'm afraid I'm everything that you fear
Signs of compassion in your eyes
Right behind those starry nights
Find some time to think of me
But try to find the honesty
I want you not for your being
I want you for your everything

Strut proudly backwards in zig zag lines
Never to step
Or misinform or crime
Listening to time's broken bells
Left at the Old Man's spell
Crippled by stranger eyes
Horizons built not seen or signed
Discredited and neglected
He's alive, he's alive

Be the center of your own Universe
Because then you shall be held with the same accountability you give the Gods

Be the center of your own Universe
Because everything you perceive is but a reflection of your own thoughts

Be the center of your own Universe
Because then for moments you will have to care for everything you've ever created

You must take responsibility.
Be the center and soon you'll see just how small the center is.

All my idols have killed themselves

Maybe I should be like them

Allow my love
to wrap
your bones
Like skin
or perhaps
a tacky
Christmas sweater

He wore a gold band
But around his neck.


"Breathing's no fun without me." -She

Maybe if I wasn't wrong all the time I would see the right sitting to my left
If all these little things didn't haunt me
I'd just stare at the large things I refuse to see
Body swimming in an ocean of cement
Everything I do is a contradiction to the truths
Yet I claim to speak nothing but
What a ****** fool I've been

The funny thing about corners is that you need two straight lines to make them.
Two lines with direction, both leading on a well laid path.
Following the line and law of the wall.
It takes two to corner.
And one to lash out.

Sweet cream in my bitter coffee
An icicle melts on the tip of porch
Steam rises, dancing, flirting with the wind
Caramel colored lover
Soul radiates the spectrum
***** curls and belly bound laughter
You're so detached.
How perfect.

White pearls flow down stairs with thunderous applause
Consuming each vitcim so gently
Enriching every soul beholding such beauty
How they applaud you
Crimson red flames pour from thy crown
As emeralds see all truths
Never release that caged Finch
As a heart leaves all to be dismissed
Conquer each line with robust passion
Absorb feeling from thy depths
Hear the masses cry for more
As Crimson Crown kills with *no mercy

So I play in the wound
Opening the edges again
Ripping the healing that's taken place
Pushing the muscles about
Creating my own red stream
Guiding it across my flesh
Pulling back the scab
Feeling my vitals tiptoe about
Checking for humanity behind lifted skin