It's funny,
How one moment,
Can change everything,
And have a lasting impact,
On your relationships with people,
It's stupid.

Some of us here, write about hope while others write about pain.
Some of us here, write about love and that which keeps us sane.

Others write about Death and the souls she just adored.
Penning out their sorrow, the mournful cries strike a chord.

Then are those who write about things and faces that they know.
Describing perfect places, landscapes wrought with snow.

Me? I'm just here venting, it's a need. This urge to write.
Cut off my hands, if you please. I'll bleed a novel out of spite.

He was just an arrangement of 1s and 0s
which manifested itself into a body
on the other side of the planet

There were a three times
that he was right beside me
despite him not being there at all

First, he sat on the side of my bed
struck by a drunken haze
when he told me he loved me

Second, he came out of my closet
to keep me from crying
when I thought I lost him

And third, appeared right beside me
when I was walking back home
while the sun was wiping my tears.

I touched him on his shoulder
then he whispered
"I don't know who you are
We have never known each other."

Cross my heart
and hope to die
when you cross my mind
I manage a lie

and pretend like you aren't there

You crossed my heart
I hope you die
when I cross your mind
I pray you cry

don't pretend like this was fair

I cross my heart
and hope it dies
so I may cease
this gilded guise

I no longer care to care

Room 3327 had a 'Do not Disturb'
But that didn't stop the maid
She walked with her shoes lightly scuffed from the curb
To clean up the room and get paid

Room 3327 reeked foul
And the maid reached to cover her nose
The coth that she grabbed was no cotton towel
But rather a dead man's own clothes

The lights had turned off when the old man died
And the town seemed to wonder the cause
They said power failure but all knew they lied
It was just that the time was on pause

The old man had locked all his files away
And though through his belongings they searched
They still cannot find, not even today
The things that in his mind were perched

The old man was magic, or maybe a god
Whatever he was, he was dead
The coroner came and wrapped up the old ***
Without knowing the gold in his head

The man never slept, and the irony shouted
To all those who knew him awake
The perpetual slumber that they had all doubted
Was now taking place as they spake

He had turned the lights on
And let the town live
But now that he's gone
He's nothing to give

The ant
Has no time
For sorrow

Gone the tenderness
from april eyes
that gave home to mine
decorated with playful dancing light
haloing soft depths
portholes of night.
Gone the tenderness
to graceful flight
lost in slumber
they're closed tight.