To long I was living with a singular vision,
became a self-perpetuator of my suffocating obsession,
the spirit of my possession
was possessing pretty things,
and all of my collecting
was to the detriment of my well-being.

Oh, how the fools fell
for the sweet tender
Izabell.

Where once
they would have guarded
themselves,
like steel locks
designed to block
rare intruders
who dare go
anywhere
near there.

Now they open doors
gleefully hoping
she will see
and enter gingerly
for love's gentle reprieve.

Those young men
come bumbling in
ready to submit
to whatever role
she wishes them
to fit in.

I watch each young gun
become a heartbroken ***.

I have my fun
but run before
she sees me
because she could break me
just as easily.

I was there
when you
came home
for the first time,
little preemie
wonderful baby
brother of mine.

You were the cutest
thing I’d ever seen
growing up
too quickly.

There were late
game nights
with pizza delights
and silly sleep overs

But as we got older
I got a little colder
and for a while
I kept my heart
and my smiles
several miles
apart.

With the years
that went whizzing on
I look back now
and cry
for all that lost time.

I may have been gone
for a long stretch
walking a path
and trying to find
something better
then the bitter
past I left behind.

The roads may rumble
with lightning
that becomes thunder
and the earth may quake
as I recall the old days
when we would stay up late
to laugh and play.

The lines I write
may be very cliché
but this is just something
I have to say.

Man, little brother
I still really love ya.

Dear Moon

I haven't seen your face
in
                                            god knows how long
a while

How have you been
up there
                                                                ­ oceanic endless well of stars
in the sky

I
                                         want to die
could be better, you know?

I've just been feeling
                                                  like lint, unwanted and worthless
down lately

Tell me, Moon
                                   tell me it's all okay
what it's like to be so free

But I know your vow of silence
                                                  wood-sp­lintering quiet
ends in eternity

We are
putrid flesh stained with
crimson pools that fall
as we drain it all.

We are fate’s fallen foe,
fragile beings
finally seen
as sparkling truths
that become
angelic paintings.

We are floating feathers
that mingle with
soft pink petals,
forming a new nest
were we can burn
and be reborn
from our old ashes.

If any stranger asks us,
we are walking frames
of fractured madness
little glass figurines
that fall between
the cracks that we have
never ever even seen
and cut other
soft bleeding things.

Things change.
Even if you like them
and wish they’d remain
the same,
life tends to exchange
the known factors
for new actors.

As familiar faces fade
from old age
preparing to decay
strangers stray
your way.

You may think
what you have is great
but when there comes an end
something beautiful
can rise from within.

Some sick or shimmering
circumstances
can take your sorrow
and direct it towards
a more fruitful tomorrow.

Evening waking
walking worker,

is up in time
to see the sun's
sweet decline.

Then back in
just before
the sun can
start shining
again.

Backpack
hanging tightly
as he moves
around the town
nightly,
quietly
enjoying
the silence.

Though,
once in a while
the shadows fall,
the smile
breaks
as tears take
center stage.

Heavy feet
drag the streets,
with music to keep
all those pains away
until he falls asleep.

Playful,
friendly,
and polite

the walker
walks himself
straight away
from the light
into
the endless night
alone
and unsatisfied.

Despair is fear
that no one cares
and that
your life
won't be a mad cap comedy
or happy ending tv series,
but just an endless state of
existing unloved.

It is a pillowcase
wetted with
saltwater
and snot
to top
it off.

It is breaths
that cannot be
caught
as sobs steal
the air you wish
to fill your
lungs with.

It is the anxiety
and voices that
say you will hurt
the ones you love
and the only action
that is good enough
to protect them
is you dying.

It is a certain suffering blindness
where a pleasant future
does not exist
and only pain persists
in all future events.

What a wonderful sight to see
as the highway horizon
rushes up to greet me
at about seventy-three
miles per hour;

The emerald shimmering
wind swept ascending
green grass bending in
the sweet summer winds.

What a wonderful feel
to roll up that hill
parking on the side of
the on ramp,
letting the breeze
and vitamin d creating
light rays envelope me
as other drivers fly by
missing this
wonderful
afternoon sky.

If I could
I would waste the whole day
watching the grass
sway away
like a green glowing wave
that keeps growing each day
while we both absorb
those life enhancing
solar rays.