I wish I was stuck in a page
of an author not cruel
between romance
and the moment of linger between the confession
so he may keep me blind
for chapters I may not see
So that I the antagonist
will remain a distant
and I will never know
that this fable ends
because I need not know
if I am to fall off a cliff
and If I were I would not mind enjoying my last steps
to my execution
thinking it was a mere stroll
As people hold their hands
and the audience holds their breath
I want to be staring at a butterfly
fluttering to a flower
instead of a moth to its fire
for after all
a blindfold is a mercy and ignorance is my bliss
if like the pinch of a needle I were to be ended.

Dawn was just a dream
Dusk was just a memory
my feet were buried in the sand
and my laughter was lost to the silence
the sea was calm
and the sky was clear
I heard only a ring
a concussion, a hit
I fell as I heard
the ringing got louder
what I was
why I laughed
I forgot

the sand that buried my feet
in ignorance now it chokes me dead!
I never screamed
cuz I never knew how
I just watched the usual crash
the whip, the foam, the salt, the return

My hands are paralyzed
my breath now short
the heat of the sun
still made me shiver
a wave that rode far now comes
to bury me now and return to the sea
to tell the tale of whim-less life
a barren seed
a lifeless core

As my teeth grit in sand
I can see but I cant observe
I know but I cant be sure
my jaws ache in salt
my eyes burn like acid
my death
was slow
but it was way too soon
I slept I wept
I died in my luck

Now I hear the voice of the angels
humming the merry tune
I think the gates are open now
so why isn't anyone here?

I feel a kiss against the salt of my lips
a tender but sweetness at last
eyes that withheld the world within
and a a smile that out-burned the sun

I smiled for the first time
I hugged her and laughed
my paralysis was now withdrawn
I knew her
but I never met her
I loved her
and she will know quite soon

I wonder how I've ended back up in this position
dependant on not just a chemical or two, but
dependant on the love of a person
You see, I was not born a human, nor have I lived as one,

I'm used to the beauty of the darkness, for in dark places
beautiful flowers grow, but it takes eyes
shadowed in darkness for decades to see them
and to pluck them, one needs a still heart
that no longer beats with the rhythm of a living being

that darkness has shaped my world, shaped my mind
yet in her voice, her words, and her love
I've found myself slipping from that place
being pulled into one in which I do not know how to live
Here there is light, and sights to be seen
with eyes practiced to the sun

I used to believe the universe whispered to me
and maybe it still does, it's just that it's been so long
since I've listened, that its song is distant
raw, and uncaring

You see the universe is lonely,
that's why it turned into you, and into me,
to be embraced with it's own warmth
to embrace itself in its own desire,
what a simple thing we endeavor, is it not?

By becoming creatures bounded in time, and space,
we've forgotten our true self and along with it
the wellspring of love that created us,
now we seek it, although in lesser forms,
experiencing it with only a few
and the upper casts of beings know this,

Somewhere deep in our subconscious we also understand, and we know that we've forgotten it.

It's just that demons have embraced darkness, and a total absence of love, while we try to fill ourselves with small glimmers plucked from flowers that grow in the sun.

Demons, on the other hand, pluck flowers that grow only in the darkness, and those flowers have power over mortals, they will call to thee and under their spell, you will dream dreams meant for only devas, asuras, demons, and spirits.

This nectar is not meant for humans, yet in our arrogance, we reach for their stock and supply,
and with it we compose beautiful songs and paint beautiful shapes, we piece together majestic art and music that can open the mind, bend it, twist it, and mold it in ways from which it can never retreat.

We create,
Things that even devas desire,

We create,
Things that even demons devour,

But to us humans these things are toxic, they are too much, and we become lost to them.
Such that we call madness is a consequence of reaching too deeply into the well of knowledge with an unbalanced, ignorant, distracted, and frail mind, and in doing so, we forsake everything for the pitifullest glimpse of eternity.

In that place; only gods and asuras may roam freely; humans, on the other hand, are far too greedy,
far too curious, far too ignorant, and far too dangerous to possess such knowledge.

We should stick to light plucked from flowers growing in the sun,
because those flowers which grow in the darkness will only lead to our damnation, the conclusion of our race, and the manifestation of something far more terrible than any of our myths ever suggested.

My mind has become warped,
decayed, and blissfully forgetful of everything I've ever gained,
In no more than a brief moment, you can lose everything,
everything that means anything to you, like a thief stealing your heart
in the middle of the night, I sleep woefully, and vigilantly my dear,
I fear, I truly fear all that which will be said upon the rising of the sun...

I'm afraid my sun shall no longer shine in the sky, that sun which has lit my way
for merely but a month, but it has truly made me the happiest man alive,
and with nothing more than a whisper will it fade from me now
what a tragedy, my heart can't take it, won't allow it,
it's happening, again... again.... I can't... I can't... I can't... I CAN'T...

It will destroy me, completely, it really will.
I'm sorry, do not think I blame you, hate you, please tread lightly
because my sorrow could fill rivers, level mountains, cut oceans
like a bleeding man on fire, with tears of flowing ash,
and everything I've relied on to keep me going, to keep me sane
is in short supply, no more than a day or two remaining,
and I will be utterly helpless to fend off the darkness,
this is going to completely consume me...
help me,
help me,
god please help me...

I am going where the sun can no longer shine...
to a place where the stars no longer belong
in my mind, where the moon has been shattered just like my heart
and the walls upon which I've leaned in my frailty are about to vanish,
my vulnerability will become a gaping chasm,
and the pit into which I am bound to fall
I doubt I will ever escape,
and love? I give up... I truly do...
I never want to open my heart again,
I can't, I won't...
I absolutely refuse.

I paint on a wall in my asylum
with an ink invisible
for those who lack vision
or for those who lack sight
only a mind cradled with loved
then thrown to shatter
A mind who thrives alone
yet yearns to love of another
can see what an invisible artist
can conjure alive
Do I dance in the shadows
so that nobody can see?
Or do I dance
for those who can see only at night
I cry not for the hearing
but for the deaf who may hear it
for hearts that'd been broken
and yet fixed another
They who shall find my lunacy an art
can appreciate my drawings on the wall of my asylum
with a sight bestowed by the insanity we then possess

Tied together in slavery
mopping the canvas with blood borrowed
by a palette that their master choses
withheld the right to bleed their color
they run like deranged halfwits
against their choice of a destination
or a chance to paint a different picture
whatever she choses we will but portray
However she presses us, we all shall obey
not a soldier out of line
not a spine out of posture
yet a mind unwillingly surrendered
to the hand of their tyrant captor

I passed a man
On the street today.
He said Hello
But not his name.

I went to the cemetery
With respects to pay
This is the second time
I saw this man that day.

He'd been there a while
It was easy to tell.
Such a strange place
Where someone would dwell.

I said Hello,
But no answer he gave.
Though I learned his name
When I looked at his grave.

May you please lay my weary head to rest
as the blade erupts with rubies in Spring.
I sit in my ivory tower's nest,
pulling puppets by their shadow-spun string.

I ponder and play, squeezing idle joy.
Wondering, perhaps I shall see you soon.
If not, I return to my tepid ploy.
A sallow moth, rotted in his cocoon.

A clock strikes and the siren's song erupts.
Yellow wallpaper reveals my sin's seams.
I close my eyes and this fear I shall disrupt.
I must embrace the love within my dreams.

Summer spent her last breath today,
A breath that still lingers on across the hills,
Filling spaces in between the bushes
That run parallel to the rambler’s routes,
She paints a shallow layer of verdant, kissing
Her mark upon the cheeks of the land,
An annual goodbye before she disembarks.

Autumn speaks, his spit fires off and pushes out
The thin remnants of Summer’s song, the colour
Turns flat, greens become murky, and
The shimmering glare that filtered the leaves
Now turns dull, paving the way
For yellow and rust, and joyless lungs.

Winter drowns all in glitter and white flame,
Burning the remnants of Autumn’s change,
She brings comforting dreams
To the sleeping fauna and staples
The grey flora into the tundra-like soil,
She shrinks the trees, the hills
And the grass
But alas she never lasts.

Spring comes quietly, a drastic change
But she is never boastful of the life
She brings, the blessed births
And the reformed prisoners, she
Breaks the chains of Winter, defrosting
The world and allowing colour
To return; the world is now emerald
And shall remain this way
For ninety days or so.