Words spill like ink from a ***
or blood from a wrist.
And let's be honest...
There isn't a difference anymore.

They scratch their suffering on skin
and scream their love like diagnoses.
Diagnosis, a death sentence,
bated breath because *"I've fallen in love."

I drive down your street and suddenly I remember-
your eyes devouring the pages of a novel,
your fingers tapping a nervous rhythm,
your lips pulled tight in a too-wide grin.

Love isn't real,
but memories are,
and they bring shaking hands here,
honest hearts scribbling hopeful realities.

*"Would you like to fake love with me?"

I loved you strong, with all the recklessness I possessed,
Yearned to share with you all I had to confess.
Believed it would be palliated in your pristine hands,
Watched it slip through your fingers like worthless sands.
Enamoured and imprudent, I jumped right in,
Unaware your depths were too shallow to swim.
Naïveté; my judgement had faltered,
All of my worth lay bare, and you resigned, unaltered.
Gave everything I knew with nothing left in reserve
Long forgotten it was me I should serve.

It was a hope laced channel for all the healing I desired
but you were inept at radiating the compassion required.
No understanding for this fragile task in proposition,
A rare gift to be cherished that you gave no recognition.
And there was too much exposed for you to forsake,
Too much that wasn’t earned; my calamitous mistake.
For these blood stained bones you lacked the tools to unearth,
You were never the answer to my rebirth.
Gravely inexperienced for this feat,
Your heart was too sheltered
and your mind too weak.

I gave you completely this intimate token,
But you failed to see how I was broken.

Royal, you was.
Even if you never occupy a castle.
You were the one at the throne of blue's kingdom.

Attracted millions to come see you.
And some into the field of blues.
Sure there was others probably better.

But in many cases, it takes one to make notes of things to others.
You sung-Just a little bit of love.
Which all it took was that.

Sung about no one loved you but your mother.
And states, she could be jiving too.
Oh, the thrill is not gone because you passed.

You left a legacy that will forever last.
Oh, no need for fans to be down hearted.
Or even depressed because facts are facts.

We can always sing, How blue can you get?
About the stories of doing your very best.
Just to be alerted by your lovers, you're not doing enough.

You had a whole lotta love.
Whether as Beale Street Boy.
Whether as Riley B long before the world knew you as BB King.

Yes, yes, you're forever here.
Simply because your music and legend will never disappear.

He was always a quiet man,
never seemed to look up...

as if his eyes were afraid of
what it might mean to
see the sky

His gaze seemed neither
fierce, nor soft.
Neither attentive or lost

He would never look at you,
it was as if he was looking everywhere
except where you happened to be.

I never saw a smile cross his lips
I never heard a laugh escape his lungs
I never heard him curse
I never heard him yell

When he spoke, I could hear the dust
falling off his breath

It wasn't a monotone sound, but I imagine
he sounded like what trees or mountains
would sound like, had they voices.

He existed in the loosest sense of the word

He was an oddity and an enigma
His quietness and unobtrusiveness
could be somewhat offputting

Yet...he was often able to blend into
the background like a rain drop
in a storm.

You can imagine our surprise
when he stumbled into town one
hot afternoon, clothes looking like
he'd fallen into a vat of red paint.

Splattered. Head to toe.
In between his head and his toes,
cradled in his arms, was the
body of a young girl

He had found her in the woods,
he had said, voice devoid of emotion.
She had been lying off the path,
in a pool of crimson.

An investigation turned up nothing
The people, in need of a murderer,
settled on the only man they could.
The man who hadn't shed even one tear
over the death of a young child

The trial was a farce
The kangaroo court adjourned
Death by hanging

The man remained silent throughout
the proceedings.  Quietly answering
the frothing prosecutor's questions
with the same demeanor as someone
would use when discussing the weather

He wasn't defensive
He wasn't derisive

He didn't plead, nor pray
when the verdict was announced

On the day of the execution
nearly everyone in town was in attendance
Most of them couldn't tell you why

The noose around his neck, he stared
back at the crowd.  Stared through them,
as if they didn't exist.

When the rope snapped taut,
The man flailed as his body
involuntarily spasm'd.

When he finally passed,
his body swinging lazily
under the gallows,
I caught the hint
of a smile

Only for a moment.

I found it odd

That he would only show
a sign of life
as it was ending

f
   a
l
    l
i
  n
g

d
o
w
n

the rabbit

   o   l   e
h             h
o             e
l              l
  e   h   o

i don't know who i am.
there are two people inside of me,
they don't even fight anymore...
they live in harmony now.

there is the me of the day...
timid. shy. careful.
always sure to do the right thing.
always sure to be the right person.
to say the right things.
to ignore the wrong people.
the good person.

and then there is the me of the night.
she appears the moment the sun sets....
bold. ambitious. dangerous.
she's a different person, this night self of mine.
she doesn't give a flying **** about anyone.
she's quite the selfish ***** to be honest.
she needs. she craves. she gets what she wants.
she ***** the guy that makes her feel like the sun,
                                                    even though he is someone else's.
she kisses the ******* who made her pay
          seventeen ******* dollars for parking in the morning
                                                         ­              until his lips bleed.
she breaks the sweetheart who wanted to show her
                                                      that not all men are quite so evil.
and she still isn't done.
she gets greedy. and her soul turns black.
and she takes the beautiful man in front of her and she ruins him.
the vulnerable one, the one with the feelings and cares
                       the one who wants to make love to her to  purple rain
she will eat him alive. she will make love to him. she will **** him.
she will make him feel whole.
and then she will leave him,
                        because she is not capable of accepting love
and then maybe she is done for the night.
and she says goodbye, until tomorrow and lays her head down.
and she falls asleep.

the next day the careful me awakes.
looks back and says what the **** have i done?

there is a monster inside of me. capable of terrible things....
                                    *i cannot control her.