Mortal wounds that rack the mind,
Focused thru the lense of time,
And sit, aching, upon the soul
To leave a ripped and gaping hole,
Filled by weary, worn requests
To end these gruesome lifelong tests
For peace to reign
And pain to stop;
To open the cage
And break the lock.
But bartered visions bring no respite,
Birthing instead a desire for flight
A longing to run, far and fast;
A desperate escape from a darker past.
And into the future, swoon and fall
Carelessly, awaiting it all,
Finding only more pain yet;
Bringing more things up to forget-
Until the world is swallowed up;
By the memories that hurt and cut.
By pain that sinks and dulls the mind,
Until that pain can fade with time
And follow, then, a different design
Until the soul can say it's fine,
And look up with truest hope again-
Only then will pain find an end.

And as I stare about me now,
I realize I have stared too long
Into the jaws of hell, and how
Pain has made me ever strong
For suffer the weather, suffer the storm
And you're sure to find bright days
Pockets still, but light and warm,
Filled with dazzling, sunny rays.
Now pain is not my jailer,
And I, no more its slave;
Risen from my thorny failures
To put pain into its grave.

It gets better;
That's what liars say;
So I guess that's what I am today.
Because I don't know what else to do
Than sit and hope right next to you
And watch the nightmares take their toll,
On the fragile, loving, gentle soul
That now before me loses sleep,
And cannot bring himself to weep.
I wonder at the things inside-
A broken heart, a damaged pride;
Swirling like a sea in storm,
Waiting in a shapeless form
Of misery; of rage, and hate,
Unable to communicate
These things that write themselves upon
The soul that's quickly almost gone.
In your grief, you don't deny
That grass is green,
And blue the sky
But you cannot seem to tell me why
Your heart still thinks it's all a lie,
That good can't still exist here now
That all is done, let's take a bow-
But yet, I still can't tell you how
Time heals all, if allowed.
I've been there in your shoes before,
Locked in shadows, behind closed doors;
I know this path you're walking down,
The one that changes joy to frowns-
This waiting pool where sorrows spin-
To catch you in their clutch again;
But I can't convince you that I'm sincere-
Uttering words, that you won't hear;
And I feel like I'm lost,
Like there's nothing to say-
So I tell you it's fine,
It will all be okay.

Lingerie rustles
As hangers squeak and strain,
Sliding across the sturdy bars
That hold retail up,
Cradling profits,
Like a fistful of bills,
Illspent.
I yawn;
Exhausted by such a drearily normal moment;
A weary reminder
Of the long hours ahead of me,
And the demands of my
Ever-watchful overlords.
Still,
my mind wanders,
Thinking that perhaps sleep will come easily tonight,
Despite the wakeful rest I've found here
leaning on this
cool,
white
counter.
Perhaps it will be time to leave soon,
And reach
for the sunny skies I can see
taunting me from beyond the glass;
To leave behind this dusty,
dreaming
perspective,
And leap into adventures,
as of yet,
unknown.
I sigh,
Returned
to be merely an observer to my working hell,
An unwilling participant
To the necessary waste
of a perfect Spring day.

To the tune of Camp Grenada, in the key of Sarcasm.

Hello darling!
Youre amazing!
You'll make Vegans
Give up grazing!
It's like I asked for
Another volley,
Not like I'm hoping you get hit by the trolley!

Innundated,
With your ego,
Who am I to
say oh God please no?!
For when they sees it,
They all wants it;
Thanks again for your **** pic and how you flaunt it!

Balance is a thing most found
In those who've walked on solid ground;
Balance, yet, is often craved
By those who often misbehave.
So then a question,
Long in prose;
Is balance sought,
Or predisposed?
For every day, the average man,
Slaves and works,
All he can,
Just enough to earn to eat,
And derives no joy from
From his borrowed seats.
He carries on,
Through different days,
Capable and strong;
He endures the harshest words,
But doesn't think on it for long.
He does not have his limits set
No cause to think it's not over yet.
He lives in self assurity,
The master of his own,
Balanced on a mountain top
Lands rich with seeds he's sown.
And yet those of a different mind,
Are sorted out and left behind
Thought to be a pitied waste,
The bringer of a bitter taste
Their minds so fraught with error,
Just dealing with an added terror;
A confusing hand, dealt at birth,
A disadvantage on this blasted earth,
That those on solid mountain peaks
Do not know, and fear to speak.
And those below don't know what to do,
Wanting balance with naught a clue
Of what it is, or how to find
A stable corner of their mind.
Some have homes, in such messy states;
A place more burden than a home to share;
Some have jobs,
And some have none,
Struggling equals in disrepair.
For what is normal to the man on high,
Is but a dream to those that sigh
And look upwards, to briefly cry
"I'm not broken, I really try!"
But each, in their own worlds, apart
Though born into a different start,
Crave the power that balance brings-
No matter of insanities.
So why treat those who suffer with more
Burdens and troubles built up on thier shores
As if they are foolish to reach up for these things?
Should we not aid them,
Show them their wings?
Or are we afraid that they'll fly higher than we?
Ascend to a separate, sparkling peak?
Shame on our fears,
Shame on us all-
Using predisposed notions
To make other souls fall.
For balance is a thing that's sought,
Elusive, strange, and barely caught
And all are equal in this single thought:
Balance is hard won, not taught.

Anger take me somewhere new,
Somewhere I've never been;
It could be to apologize
Or to lose another friend.
'Cause you sure as hell ain't one to me,
You're nothing but a pain;
Anger, hit the road, you ***-
May we never meet again.
For Anger makes a fool of me,
Makes me see red in a whole new hue;
Robs me of my logic-mind,
Makes me say what isnt true.
I can't always lock you up,
And stuff you out of sight;
But I can choose
When it's time for you
To be released into the fight.
For you are not my master,
And you are not my friend;
You may burst into flames one day,
But I'll just put you out again.

The moody greys;
The rain that stings;
A thousand random,
Happy things,
That makes me want
To leap and play;
To take in the splendor
Of this cold, wet day,
And revel in it's quiet gloom-
To watch it weave
On it's dampened loom-
For daylight does not at all compare
With this misty, freshened,
Dripping air.
Though all and sundry
Are brought down low
By the gift the heavens
So kindly bestow,
I feel instead Nature's kiss
In this, the weather
I always miss.
So while others may think to complain,
And shake their fists at the falling rain,
The soothing wind doth caress my cheek;
And so, inspired,
I thought to speak-
Of the drought of sun,
And it's absent rays;
And this,
The perfect, rainy day.
But an exaltation,
a prayer to none:
I do not wish this day be done;
Rather I would plead,
Sincere,
To leave this solemn weather here.