Night falls softly on her eyes,
Tears run down her cheeks.
She fears she is alone,
Abandoned in this life.
No soul to turn to,
No one to lean on.
Things may be bleak,
But this I know.
You my dear,
Are never alone.

Standing guard,
At the gates of hell.
Protecting the world,
From the evils of the past.
Ever vigilant,
Never faltering.
Unnamed protector,
Dispatcher of horrors.

Note to self:

Get up.
Get the **** up
Off your sorry, beaten ***,
And stop being pathetic.

And know that trust is a lie.
No one tells the truth anymore.
No one knows anyone.
Best friends and lovers?
It's all an illusion.
Reality screams that
Trust is game.
Who can fool who?

And the one who is always there for you?
Always makes you feel like ****, right?
Just get the **** up.
And fix yourself.

You ******* up
Because your mind was clouded and hazy with care.
You somehow found logic in the illogical.
But you can't go back.
So get the **** up.

We all victimize ourselves
And pour the blame on others.
We all ignore the things that we do,
Both to ourselves and to those around us.
We don't even see ourselves because we're too busy
Finding flaws
In our friends,
In our enemies,
And then we can feel okay about who we've become.

Well, get the **** up,
And look into a mirror.
You did this to yourself.
Now fix it.
You're better than this.

Sincerely,
Yourself.



Get up, my friends,
And take a whiff of the big, fat "*******"
Freshly painted on my forehead.

there is nothing in the world that is quite as painful
as watching someone stare down the barrel of a loaded gun
when you're the only one praying for a jam.

there is nothing in the world that is quite as painful
as watching someone pitch and stumble to the ground
when you're the only one hoping for a blackout
before he gets the chance to empty the bottle.

there is nothing in the world that is quite as painful
as watching someone shake and teeter,
sweat and scream, knock and pound on his dealer's door
when you're the only person wishing that needles had never
pierced his skin and pills had never fallen past his lips.

my darling loves me
like the sun- turning me gold
and making me shine

Edgeless days are the hardest
to let pass you by
as you stare at all the pretty things
Just out of sight.

There sits, heavy in atmosphere,
On these days of no ends,
A timelessness
in the most tragic way.

All your toiling
begins to feel useless,
and errors make a mess of this.
Your anger - Instantly boiling

Futile barking.
Damning non-existent gods,,
And then a mocking laughing-
Since you are alone.

Because, of course,
You are alone,
Chained to the room
They're paying you to
|
When the crushing
Endlessness to your day
Could be so easily been remedied
with conversation or, some play

And now those gods
are laughing.
And you wish to be alone
                     From yourself.

Wake up.
It’s only a dream.
That’s only the fear raging through your veins,
But fighting it can bring a ghost to life.

Wake up.
It’s a nightmare.
Deep down you must know
That you made the simple so difficult,
As did I.

Wake up.
Open your eyes from this frozen, lifeless slumber.
Remove your glasses of tenacity,
And I’ll let my guard down.
Trust me with your heart,
And I’ll save you from yourself.

Wake up.
Let me in,
And I’ll shine the light back down
To keep you from drowning in your own ocean of poison.
Give me your hand,
And I will grasp it with my life to pull you ashore.
Because we’re both fools if we let this crash
Push us apart and change us for the worse.

Wake up.
I’m standing right in front of you.
I will not stagger.
I will not sway.

When I made you, I loved you.
Now I pity you.

I gave you all you needed:
bed of earth, blanket of blue air--

As I get further away from you
I see you more clearly.
Your souls should have been immense by now,
not what they are,
small talking things--

I gave you every gift,
blue of the spring morning,
time you didn't know how to use--
you wanted more, the one gift
reserved for another creation.

Whatever you hoped,
you will not find yourselves in the garden,
among the growing plants.
Your lives are not circular like theirs:

your lives are the bird's flight
which begins and ends in stillness--
which begins and ends, in form echoing
this arc from the white birch
to the apple tree.