This is far from bliss,
There is no pain like this,
Nothing hurts this much,
There’s nothing here to clutch,
Here it’s very dark,
There’s not a single spark,
I cannot see a thing,
I don’t know where to cling,
I reach out my hand,
Hoping to find some land,
But I just feel empty air,
All to my despair,
It’s very quiet here,
I listen out with my ear,
But I don’t hear a sound,
The silence is profound,
Not even a single groan,
I think I’m here alone,
I don’t how to get out of this,
Or even what this place is,
I think I might be trapped,
In this place that is unmapped.

How do I hate thee? I cannot count the ways.
That you are a clueless, narcissistic proto-fascist
Are words so true
They make me rue
That I’d not the durst
To use them first.
But here are a few
That well  may be new
To vilipend you.

You move limacine-like
Into the nasty netherworld
Of  our national nuttiness
Spinning whigmaleeries
That you prompt gailliardese
Among those not yet dead of brain.

You are a *******, a blatherskite,
And a fanforan.

So How do I hate thee?
With the breath,
Smiles, tears,
Of all my life,
And if Fate choose,
I shall but hate thee greater
After death.

- Dan Wick

You declared the way
Of love
Is free
From evil
But i saw
It's a fearful precipice ...

Somewhere
in a dream
I gaze at sadness
      inside the folds
              of soft suede
     in hues of earth,
in its darkest shades
  and up surges longing,
breaking out
  breaking free
    a catharsis of emotions
rushing stormy
through me
Bursting in my veins,
now a river of tides
    from the swirl
               in my brain
      to the swell
of my thighs
and every inch
            of skin
aches with want
for a lost, ancient treasure
and I wonder
how ties
supposed to bind
were meant
     to be severed
for I am stuck
in this limbo
this dance
        between stars  
as the pain
in the staying
makes room
for new scars
and I'm thinking
that vows made
sometimes need
to be broken
before the soul
dies
in dark silence,
inner
   words
         never
   spoken

I slowly began to realize that he would rather invite the demons under his bed to laze in his sheets than come to me

A me that would lay my guts out flat
A me that would bleed for him until my veins were so dry they ached and I could hear them crack

I remembered he was always scared of being loved ~so he would rather have someone's skin against his raw flash than my eyes on him
He would rather taste her lips than let my arm feel his bones

He was scared of me~
Because I knew what he really was

Aggravating, but without intention
Because
Insecurities are my mind's
Greatest invention.
Alluded to harshly
In regard to "pretention."
L**onely but loved, despite the contention.

As cliché as it sounds,
I don't blame you for not loving me.
Because honestly,
sometimes,
even I find it hard to appreciate
the facade underneath.
Laughing behind layers of lies --- upon lies --- upon lies...

See,
you're a dazzling star with a bright future.
I'm a grotesque creature with lots of sutures.
To the gleaming horizon,
you can still go further.
My only domain
is this stygian abyss,
where even the golden strings
from the Heavens above couldn't pierce.
A place where crimson flowers wither,
is the only dwelling where I could slither.
As I watch you from here,
the distance
between our fingertips
grows farther.

We're beings of the same nature,
But we are of different elements.
I thought you were my savior,
but I got the bitter end of it.
In our future, I was so sure,
I cast the bait, you bit the lure,
and after you got
what you sought,
you left me.

For months on end,
I had to endure
the pain which your vocal *****
have conjured,
but rest be assured,
that one faithful day,
all of these crystalline sorrows
flowing out of my organic aqueducts
would cease to flow,
and shatter on my lap.
One faithful day,
I would find a tincture
to cure and soothe the festering wounds
that's making my core
throb in pain.
And maybe then,
death's sickly sweet allure
wafting in the air
wouldn't be tempting.

All I need is to wake up and smell the flowers.