I watched her wither away,
Her feet swollen and her hair a cloud.
Her skin draping around her fragile body like a shawl.
But her eyes always stayed the same,
Full of content.
Behind the thickening glass.

I watched them ease her into a walker,
And into a home.
They handed her the pills,
Handfuls of life.
Though pill by pill it seemed to escape her.

I watched her while she cried,
She cried for death.
And for her other half.
Her will to survive slowly diminishing.

I watched her as she kissed my cheeks,
And told me she loved me.
She filled with life and happiness.
Her eyes were suddenly hers,
*Content

There is a deafening inarticulateness here;
Among the Living-
    Though I always anticipated the Dead would prevail.
Perhaps it is to let us think-
    But do we really think here?
The Comprachicos of the psyche enable our free thought.
Bringing clemency to an abrupt and mutilated end.
Unlike Dea, we shrink from Gwynplaine's grotesque glasgow smile.
Unable to be enchanted by the spirit,
And unable to adore the soul.

Hello Darkness,
We meet again.
Dwelling inside of me, licking at my nerves.
Lapping up my freshly drawn blood as fuel.
My brain is plagued by you.
My heart is diseased.
No pills or herbs will banish you.
No needles or probes will find you.
I am alone with you.
I am  forever ruined by your love of decay.
Roots are no longer deep in the soil.
But abstract above.
My organs are exposed through my translucent skin.
You leave me exposed.
Tell me Darkness.
Why do I hold you here when there is a world of light?
A world of laughter?
Darkness, I will tell you.
Because being alone with you, isn't as dangerous as being alone with myself

They say life goes on
Yet for me, life holds still
Creating a void in which I am lost
Yearning for forgiveness
I yearn for love
Yet  for me, love is held away
In my hands, but torn to pieces
Whole in my hands, but I fall to pieces
The paradox in which anger grows
Self destruction blooms
Wilted and dead, yet it thrives

Justice is Blind-
   Is it not?
For in Our World, it is an eye for an eye.
But without eyes, how do we see Justice?
   Do we not?

I believed in it once.
When crime was a foreign conspiracy;
   Not a promised truth in this world of hurt.

So if justice is Blind.
   *Are we as clueless as our dictators?

Maybe we all have a story to tell.
Of a ruined love affair.
The powder on your Dad's hands.
Your Mother's luke-warm beer and smile.

And please don't bother to tell me.
I'll just nod my head.

So believe in what you can't see,
And don't cry to me.
When the bottle sits in your hands
And the company is caked in coke.
And you can't wish it away,
Or blame them.

The pattern on the cigarette burned rug is fading fast,
As are your excuses.

And I'm just shaking my head.

Through my eyes I see the world
I see its heartache and its impending failure
All things that once were are no longer
The light of life has burnt out
Our strive for love has diminished, only hunger for lust remains
Though I am blinded by those who do not understand
Through my hands I feel this world

The one without tolerance
Without compassion we march forth, deeper into our unsentimental views
I feel the depth of lingering sorrow
Though my hands have been bound by those who don't know me, but classify

But I breath life
My heart beats not to a drum of musicality
Or the strokes of a brush
But to the sound of disgust
Judgment and fear
Though my heart isn't worthy of love

Self destruction is taught
From age 9
Father leaves home, holding yet another suitcase
You hold his arms and legs, you beg him to stay
But staying is as bad as leaving he says, and he leaves.

From age 15 you learn of attention
The feeling of being noticed, of being wanted
Unlike ever before
A man looks at you
No matter the age, you want that man to love you
To need you
You want to stay with him
But staying is as bad as leaving he says, as he pushes you out of his bed.

From 16 you learn of your Mother
Men come and go
You become attached to this father figure, loving you
Unlike your own
They stalk, they prowl, they become animals
Looking at you like meat
Loving you in other ways
Loving your mother for who she introduced them to, and as
You ask them to leave,
But staying is better than leaving they say, as they close the door to your mothers room.

From 17 you learn of Death
It is close and true
It is real and something guaranteed,
You realize this as you're slicing your skin
You write the note as the blood drips
Because leaving is as bad as staying you say, as you swallow the pills
Because being dead is better than being treated like you should be.

I beg of you to lift me-
      High above the barricades.
To where your betrothal is not prematurely aborted, but blossoms.
The established world has its limitations.
But the existence of danger takes us beyond boundaries-
To touch the castle in the clouds.
Howbeit we may tumble about the mist at His will.
        -Our allure will cause no mercy.
For even God thought the Devil beautiful moments before He cast Him out.
Though I am no Lucifer, I am a dreamer.
And it is said-
That at one point even the Devil dreamed of his own alcazar-
       Among Him.

Your love was so young
But the heartache is as old as time.
     Everlasting in her mind.
The photographs that littered the floor tell her story,
     The ones covered in tears.
One that I never knew existed outside of a pink castle.
   A Knight scribbled poems behind the teachers back,
    And a Princess reached for them between classes.
Could love be so violently torn through years of stretching?
A love who bore a child, such as myself?
Evidently.
This tragedy gives me little hope.
How can I love when the ones I look to for love cannot?

Three cents a day,
The memory of another remains.
His folded flag, his folded hat, his folded letters.
Our folded clothing, along the walls.

We never did unfold the clothes.
Only once did his flag leave its box, his hat.
Only once was it placed into glass.
For her, and only her.
For he only did exist in her world.
And her world alone.
His letters seized, as his love.


One cent a day.
His scent no longer lingers.
Only memories of rocket-rides in our purple chair gather.
Who is this man?
Who has he created in me?
I would say void, but no.
That word has no meaning.
For if it did, would it really be as it says?
The word is my father.
Empty, and meaningful.
Yet if its meaning is spoken, all purpose of the word is lost.


Now I unfold this box of clothes.
And remember his scent, the rocket-rides, the play-dough grapes.
I recall his balding head.
His slender, calloused hand.
As it slid the dollar bill into my palm for a treat.
Turning back I see him board the plane.
A trail of his scent behind him.

You injected my trust, the same as your ******
You drank my pride as whiskey.

You're not worth my tears,
Or time.
So don't stop and look back,
Don't pretend I was ever your addiction.
Your cheap drugs and **** excuses are all you need;
Don't stop and pretend your drugs would hide your faults,
Or protect you from mine.

You're not worth my love,
Or forgiveness.

You injected my trust, the same as your ******
You drank my pride as whiskey.

You're not worth my tears,
Or time.
So don't stop and look back,
Don't pretend I was ever your addiction.
Your cheap drugs and **** excuses are all you need;
Don't stop and pretend your drugs would hide your faults,
Or protect you from mine.

You're not worth my love,
Or forgiveness.

I can't help but wonder,
If I said yes that night, and we went to the movies.
If I allowed myself to fall hopelessly in love with you.
    As I always intended to do, though time didn't allow it.
Would I be bearing the camo scarf?
The one proving your death,
Ironically wrapped around your mothers and sisters necks?
Or would this situation be completely altered?
Rather than feeling the cold pew beneath me.
Would I feel the carpet beneath my heeled feet?
Replacing tears of sorrow flowing down my cheeks with the tears of passion.
If I allowed your palm to be placed into mine for longer than the haunted house lasted,
Would time have changed?
Would you be kissing my fingers rather than watching me peck away at this board?
If only I knew:
I wouldn't have the chance to tell you how much you meant.
I would be broken by this death.
I would never kiss your cheek again.
If only I knew how much I would miss you.
But instead, I sat in the back of the church.
Silently starving for your infectious smile.
Praying I believed in God, so one day I could see you.
Wanting to scream the one thing you loved to say,
More than the Lords Prayer.
*"You are the best, Be happy because I hate when you are sad; I love you."

I saw the Child dreaming.
   His flowing features glowing.
The need to hold this Child's delicate face consumed me.
And whisper,
    Take this rhyme and run-
       While you still can.
Somewhere cold and magical.
But don't forget this land.
     Your Heart is buried here
         -As-well as mine
Your mind has blossomed here.
These tears that formed you-
   So divine.
Shaped your apathy, as-well as your mind.
So don't forget this land.
   Or our buried Hearts
That cold Land was created for your depart.
But alas the Child stay comatose.
   Awaiting the day the World would End.
*Dreaming softly in his Bed.

She grips His hands.
Begging Him to remember her face.
The Man sways
Those nights together float into the night.
As soft and intimate as the way He felt her.
She rocks Him back as He stares blankly.
Eyes like a small child's,
Innocent but aged.
She chants to the Man.
   A ghost within.
Suddenly His eyes fill with light.
   As an infant's do, the day the seize to cross.
Tears weld and He cannot remember why.
But joy is here, and love is here.

This Man feels loves beauty,
Though this Man sits alone, His brain diminishing.

When you feel your own skin,
And murmurer your name.
Do you feel lost?

Like you're new, and you've never hurt?
Or do you remember your wife,
And children.
The feel of their skin and names on your lips;
     The storms in their eyes.
The promises you've never kept.

Did you feel the rain on your back, while the storms raged on?
While 100 women took our places, and kept you warm.
While we shivered without a roof.

Between my lashes I see Death.
I feel It suspended above me, masking my eyes.
The iced winter air won't be the only to take lives.
    I have no excuse.
They scream, but who is to help them?
"Blessed are those who Mourn, for they shall be Comforted"
    But who truly feels the Lords warm embrace?
    Who truly feels saved?
For those who starve, are pushed out of our minds.
    The holiday season would be ruined with the grip of Death.
Those who weep, receive no shoulders.
    But are ignored, who has the time?
We scream to the clouds, begging an answer.
A sign,
Anything to prove we aren't wasting our time.
But those who starve, still starve.
Those who weep, still feel the warm tears.
     And we have no excuse.
Again we beg and plead to our "Merciful Lord"
    But who hears an answer?
Mary's bleeding Hands and Feet?
We bare false witness to hide our fear.
    So if He wont Comfort the Mourning,
   Should we do it ourselves?

              *Does anyone feel saved?

I need my Daughter's Love.
Tell me you love me, and beat me down.
You showed me how much I need you-
   And how little I deserve you.
Explain to me how long I must pray to you.
How long my debt is to be paid.
I'm on my knees, show me your face.
I know I left you, but I need you.

Father, You don't know me.
Let alone Love me.
You've been gone far too long.
I needed you to hold me.
I needed a Father's love.
I'm afraid to close my eyes.
Some nights I close my eyes and see your death.
    So I wish for mine.
Turn to me.
Tell me you ever loved me

When you skip town
I promise not to make a sound,
I'll just light the way, and watch you sleep.
I'll keep the darkness from your eyes and the rage from your soul.

So call me when you're home.
And I'll light the way, so you can watch me sleep,
And we'll chase this darkness like we do.
But I don't know how long to wait.
So call me when you're home.
And tell me when you are you.

I try to tell you,
It is always brighter in the morning.
But you swear you're broken.
And it is never better,
   Even when it is brighter.
So why do I bother?

I have forgotten my Grandfathers face,
Crinkled eyes and sour drops.
Would He forgive me if He knew?
This thought invades my mind.
Sinks into my veins.
Nips at my nerves.
Will I be as forgotten as my Grandfather?
Will no one remember my candies?
My eyes.
Will there be no one to remember me?
Would I forgive myself if I knew?
   *That I hadn't lived enough to be remembered.

I cant count the times that I've looked at you,
And tried to explain,
That I'm so tired of being cold, like my skin isn't awake.
Its been holding me down,
Its been counting the days.
But no matter what I do,
It can never get to you,
It always comes out wrong.
And it always gets you down.
So for now I'll just try to stay awake.

But its not your fault, you'll never understand this pain.
The one that eats at my soul,
As it takes me away.
I've been putting off this day for years since I've been born,
But I don't know what to do,
I cant breathe anymore.

I hope this finds you well,
All I can do is sleep.
This was never my intention,
I never wanted you to weep.
So don't stare at me while I slowly fade away,
Don't try to bring me back.
Don't waste another day.