By Arcassin Burnham

Her love is like turning the tides away from the
Docks at riverside in the afternoons and fighting
Off horrific terrifying fire breathing dragons that
Overwhelmed us in desperate times of weather
Or not this is a fantasy,
Depends on the what you read,
I'm certain that the things I say won't change the fact
That she's a heart of golden pellets in my brain that
Drives me insane,
Driving me to the ends of the earth to meet her standards,
But who needs standards when you have the warm embrace
Of someone holding you and makes firecrackers pop off
In your head when they kiss you,
I guess thats what that boy thought in paper towns,

Hoping that you see me for the creative , simplistic
Caresmatic,  articulate black boy from Florida that
Has no life at all and sees shame in every corner of
Of that aspect, only wanting the best for himself and
His family,

I can sit here all day and talk about how beauty stikes
Power in your soul,
Or do something lame like make memes and continue
To gain self-control,
I'm just an old soul in a teens body putting one foot forward
Each time I console with myself,
Sometimes I can't stand myself,
But with you in the mix we will only prevail.

I'm conflicted by addictions
Choices to be made
Some come with restrictions
The piper must be paid

A small drink after dinner
A smoke out in the yard
Conflicted by addictions
The choices are quite hard

Temptation's round the corner
It's where ever you may look
You're a small fish in the ocean
And the devil baits the hook

Choices are wide open
There are many to be made
But, no matter your direction
The piper must be paid

Compulsive interactions
May drive the train you ride
The devil's the conductor
And he's there right by your side

The devil's in the details
And one day the bill is due
You have to pay the piper
For the choices made by you

He doesn't want your money
He hooked you, that's his goal
Your addictive interactions
Cost you dearly with your soul

In my passing
what will they say
as they gather round the death display
will they shed a tear
for this pallid face
or feign a moment of silent grace
the final glances
the final sighs
the final light on sleeping eyes
the coffin closed
the voices fade
I watch them walk from Sun to shade
back to their homes
back to their lives
where perhaps a piece of me survives

By Arcassin Burnham

Wake up from the dead like
The crow on a Sunday morning
Piercing it's eyes on Monday's newspaper,
Making sure the world sees a different path,
Wouldn't feel like this if I had a laugh,
Piecing together what I can to find a day
Without pain,
You have a better way of seeing things,
But we're not the same,
I try the highs and lows for myself,
But nothing commences,
No change,
No sign of self worth,
Like I was made in a test tube frozen
In a block of ice,
I'm nothing more than a discovery in my own image,
For that I shouldn't long to exist,
I should clear,
I should erase,
I should fade.

"I'm afraid of the dark," he said,
but what he meant, I couldn't grasp.

I'm afraid of the light instead.

What more could terrify me than a future I have to face,
a gleaming torrent of certainty,
a resounding push forward,
but the dark?

The dark is my putty; a shadowy liquid,
a fickleness that prays on hope and fear,
and with it holds an escape.

He fears the dark because it can deceive him.
I fear the light because it is the truth.