We died as I passed him the cancer stick, he glanced past his seat to my hand where i held it. Carassed between my fingers. He looked death straight on before we even knew we were dying.

I want to be sunburnt.
I like peeling off my dead skin
and ******* in the ocean.

“Two possibilities exist: either we are alone in the Universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying.”
That's Arthur C. Clarke.
My wife always believed we are not;
She was convinced we are not alone.
11 months ago,
My sweet wife said to me,
“Wouldn’t a pair of tiny feet
Pattering around the house
Sound so sugary sweet?”
10 months ago,
The doctor told me how
My count was pretty low and
Asked my wife about a bike accident
From when she was 10.
My wife cried a little, and then
At home, she cried
More than I’d ever seen her.
“I don’t want to be alone,” she said,
But I told her we’re never alone,
As long as we have God.
She told me, in one of the worlds out there,
We are complete.
The ‘S’ in universes keeps her hopeful,
And content.
8 months ago,
I sat in the waiting room
With my sweet wife who had
Been puking and aching for weeks.
The doctor called it a miracle
And said our lonely days were gone.
My wife said she was glad
We weren’t going to be alone,
With just her and me.
7 months ago,
My wife ate right, and exercised,
And sang to her belly, and
Did all of the things
She was told to do;
But it was not enough, because
1 month ago,
My wife — my sweet, lovely wife —
She tripped on the staircase-
That last creaky step I swore I’d fix-
And fell, and bled and bled.
The doctor said he was sorry,
That my wife, she’d be okay, but
That there was nothing to be done
About the young one.
My wife cried much more
Than she had cried 4 months before.
She said she didn’t want to be alone.
“But we are not alone,”
I held her and I said,
“We have God in our midst,
we are not alone.”
A week ago,
I put out a sign
That declared ‘Garage Sale’
(Unabashedly, as if mocking us)
And lay out a motley of miniature clothes and objects-
Unused cribs and
Tiny, unworn shoes.

One day ago,
I said all the right things,
And loved and supported her,
And held her through her tears, but
Right now, as I cry
More than I’ve ever cried before,
And ask why I couldn’t be enough,
She is packing up her trunk,
Saying she can’t take it, saying
*“I just want to be alone.”

Cancers got her ***, they said

I sneezed my backbone out,
It's okay you didn't have much of a spine anyway.

You wanted a butterfly
But only peeped in
On a mere caterpillar
Unsure on the process
  Of using wings
And when she did
You gazed upon her lovingly
Your butterfly lips ******* on her skin like mandarin oranges
Next spring you'll go away
To find another butterfly
In her cocoon is where she will **stay

I am afraid for
what he would do if one day
he caught me crying

There many more gifted Writers then myself here on the earth.
So I know the truth, that  I am a ok writer whom allow Christ.
To write poetry that is Great through me, not entirely me whom writes.
For he wants to use us all through our writing to bless others here.
For he will always add to a offering in his name to bless our gifts.
To reveal himself to everyone else through each of our gifts here.
When we give the gift to him and deciated it to him here as well.
For there are by more ways to give to God then just our money.
For its far better to look beyond our-self to want others healed.

We will NOT,
destroy this planet.
Long after the human race,
has dissolved into nothingness,
our earth shall remain.
We will however,
most assuredly destroy ourselves.
We will cloud the air,
we will poison the water,
we will soil the land.
In our arrogance,
we will destroy ourselves,
but not
this planet.

Ghosts
ghosts are real.
I know this
because I know men who see them.
Men who are...
to say the least rational.
Men who are of sound enough mind
not to believe in spectral forms
or fairy tales.
And still I've sat in rooms with such men
watched them cast a glance
toward empty corners.
Watched as their eyes glazed and brought them
elsewhere.
Ghosts exist in the mind.
And that which exists in the mind of men
is very much as real
as that which exists
in their physical worlds.