the title looked nice,
you opened the book,
and begun a new life,
you found a new home,
where you meet some new friends,
you kept on reading hoping it would never end,
you danced through the pages,
and sang out the words,
you felt all their joy,
and all their pain and hurt.

the pages cut your fingers,
and the words cut your heart,
like the author had a knife,
and was tearing your soul apart,
you laughed with the characters,
and with them you cried,
you fell in love with them too,
but with them you died
and as the book came to an end,
your broken heart couldn't heal,
you finally realised that,
its.
not.
real.

Intentions lay shattered and scattered about
Now remnants of what could not be
The veil rent asunder, revealing all doubt
And the face we tried hard not to see
The beautiful thistle amidst scores of thorns
Still ****** us, and begs us to bleed
Just as the dreams that we still so adore
Sometimes sprout from the darkest of seeds
When even hope falters, and faith seems a lie
When demons rejoice, and angels doth cry
And every step draws the conclusion much further away
Every tear that resides behind eyes
Far too weary to open upon their demise
Will still succumb to the fall despite their dismay
The death of mortality’s endless charade
Lingers on as the lifeless continue to fade
Far beneath the parading of ghosts who continue to try
The cries of the broken a sweet serenade
Such an effortless potion that swiftly invades
The hearts of those who still refuse to die

The phantom progression of wanting the need
Still continues to tear at the soul
Ignoring the loss and the pain as it feeds
Upon every ounce of control
As the broken rise up from the fathomless ashes
Still screaming, and daring to dream
Holding to hope as it wails and it gnashes
Knowing nothing is all that it seems
While our time slips away with each grain through the glass
Our tears come and go, as the dew on the grass
And the frost of our frozen emotions still flees with the sun
We fall, and we rise, sprouting forth from the seeds
Of our failures and losses, and sweetly we bleed
Our journey through dark disenchantment now scarcely begun
Our every dream has been nearer than far
But none of us know just how close that we are
Until we dare to take just one step more
This thicket of briers now slowing us down
But protects the great beauty of what may be found
To be the very thing worth dying for

NO**
You shout this to the world, and the world turns still.
How dare the rain fall, a relative call.

How dare the earth turn, while you still yearn
How dare they laugh, while you still ache.

How dare the sun rise and night fall,
while you have no relief from the grief at all.

The wreaths are dead.
All has been said.

Sweetheart, I hope you go to heaven when you die. For you've been living in hell this whole time.

Even as a boy.
I always thought  I knew
what love  looked like.
She was soft curvy and blonde
with beautiful blue eyes.

I looked for her for years
and she finally showed up.
When she showed up
she was brunette wore glasses
that hid her brown eyes .
she hated my music
hated my friends
and in the end
she hated me.

It was ten years
before  love returned again.
This time she had a
short blonde pixie cut.
Green eyes and a perma smile.
She taught me that when a
woman is smiling it does not
reflect what she is thinking.
She played music all the time
that someone  else bought her.
She did buy me
my favorite ice cream though.
But she would eat it all
in midnight food binges.
as her music played.

I am now waiting for love
to come again.
It's been five years
but I know love
will show up.
I am sure of it.
when love left me I asked it to
leave my door open.
I kissed love softly goodbye.
And there were no tears.

I whispered softly to love.
thanks for coming to visit me.
I love it when you are around.
Don't be a stranger Love.
come back and see me soon.

The night before I killed myself I tried to sleep but couldn't. The mantle clock sounded second ticks long-handed. Loud, long ticks.

I climbed up on the roof. Sat on shingles layered in leaves I'd promised but never got around to blowing off. The neighbor's cat stared at me across the way. A look as empty and weightless as I felt. She meowed one plangent note before she left me there.

Dark mistletoe hung unused from lintels long ago. You and I we stood there not sure of what to do.

The night before I killed myself I built a fire. Fed it the notes you wrote.
Declerations of love turned to ash without protest. Your pleas were next, their ashes floating up in black and white.
Columns of supplication falling cold and grey.
You never want to see me again; I saved that one for last, just as you did.

The night before I killed myself I searched my contacts. Only a few remained and still it felt crowded, filled with intimate strangers who'd stopped calling long ago. I tried to count the people who might care, but I came up empty handed.

The night before I killed myself the moonlight spilled on lawns manicured through quiet dedication only suburbs can posess. I enjoyed it once. Now the silent solitude I sought ran screaming, chased by racing thoughts and guilt I could no longer place.

That night I tried to tell myself to live, while the last lights flickered in my eyes. Ash is what's left when the fire dies.

I'm an apostle of broken things
of bitter blows and sacred stings
the night turns weary inside the dark
the taste of death come morning

I wake inside this unholy night
broken against a fearsome light
blinded by music too much too soon
the ache of love gone missing

Ten, I need to hold back my tears
My anger, my sadness and my fears
Because I have a feeling that anytime
In this room, I will commit a crime

Nine, I can hear their voices outside
I have to stay here and hide
Stay quiet, stay unnoticed
Seal the pain, like what I have promised

Eight, let me see what is in this place
A chair, a table, a notebook, a lace
A lace? No, keep calm  you cannot lose
You should not disappear in these shoes

Seven, I noticed that the lighting here
Is as dim as my current year
The friends I had were the ones I lost
Maybe even the ones I care about the most

Six, I decided to look outside the window
If there is even any window
I cannot remember when and why it is blocked
I cannot remember when and why my heart is locked

Five, get a hold of yourself
What you are thinking of will never help
Why did you even thought of that?
I am so curious with the aftermath

Four, my notebook lies open on the floor
What is written in it? I am not sure
I get these thoughts and I write them down
Mostly the times when in my tears, I drown

Three, I gathered the lace, the table and the chair
I am still not sure with what I am doing here
I want to know what will happen
Will I stop, will I move forward or will I go back to where I have been?

Two, I guess I cannot stay any longer
There is no reason left for me to stand here
Right now I am not angry or lonely
But I am also not excited nor am I happy

One, I attached the lace to the ceiling
Took a last look at home, if I only knew its true meaning
I wrote down my last words that may answer a question
So long to you, to me, and to these emotions