Confusion.
Why do I do this every **** time?
Do I enjoy the pain of others or the guilt that comes after?
I will never know.
The answers lie out there.
Deep under the calm white blanket.
Remaining free and untouched.
I can feel the silence.
It soothes me and relieves me of this confusion.
Why make everything so **** complicated?
Everything should be as simple, as pure, as silent as the calm white snow.
But its not.
Do you see the silence behide her eyes?
Its because she's burning.
The silence hold the secrets of the mind.
My life is a fire that blazes through everything I touch.
It melts the beautiful snow around me and turns it to slush.
This fire will never extinguish.
It burns me inside so intensely.
But I love the flames they are loud.
So I guess that means,
Ill see you in the summer.

Lost in confusion
Is this an illusion?
Hands on the ground
Not a whisper nor a sound

Head to floor
I want something more
Taste the distress
Of what I confess

Love flows through me
Can this truly be?
Soul binding love
Unity with the One above

built up anger turns into holes in the walls
or bruises on the forearm of a man
who wandered into the same bar as you.

"pick a fight with someone your own size"

but the only thing that seems the same size as you
is the trigger of the gun on your bedside table.
but you heard that was only to be used for self defense.

self defense. but what if you're defending yourself
from the only thing that's threatening you at the moment which
happens to be the guy who glares back at you on the other side of the mirror.

the smoke from your cigarette is your anger management.
what could have killed you or someone else escapes on its wispy white color
and the orange fire at the end of the stick burns the leftover words of hate on your lips.

you've ceased to care about anything anymore.
you just hope you end up back at the bar on 8th street
instead of the court room on 6th or the cemetery on 20th.

but thats morbid.

so don't tell the guy in the mirror.

Blown from the west,
fallen leaves gather
    in the east.

Age 13 your heart called out for attention
Bed sheets stained with your innocence
Every tear flooding out the cotton fibers of your pillows
New Orleans had it bad with Katrina
Yet your tsunami desires for love
Hit harder than Haiti's tsunami
Quicker than the loss of life in Pompeii
I'm sorry age matters in this world
I'd take you in my arms
Hold you close and hope your wings develop
In the safety of my nesting heart
Age 15 and you're already being considered a *****
Tattooed, branded with the titles of ****, *****
And the constant question of guys 4 years older
"Can you **** my ****?"
I'm sorry I was never given the chance to love you
Tell you how much you mean
To me and my world of death and pain
I understand
17 years old and I'm labeled a psychopath
Only because I love the sight of horror
I'm crazy because I dissected an already dead cat
Insane because I stabbed my brother with his own knife
We're outcast in today's society
Because we don't conform to the fashions
The styles of tomorrow
Instead we bask in the glory of our demise
Praying to every god in every book
To take the blade another 6 cm deeper
To have the alcohol in our liver
Erode the burning emotions
We were blessed to have yet cursed to never be reciprocated
I'm sorry I was never given the chance to love you
I would have loved you the way an angelic demon like yourself
Always dreamed of since the age of 6
Shame you're a thousand miles away
Dancing on the rose pedals that wilted on your grave
I should have sent a bouquet
You would have known you were loved