She is a gypsy queen
My queen
Who sees sadness in my eyes
And falls in love
She is on the road
And in the stars
Hanging over me as clouds
Shining over me as suns
She is a gypsy queen
Belladonna
A femme fatale fatally stricken
And falling further
She lives by her own rules
And in her dreams
Where our bodies intertwine
And in our hearts

We both know
We know it well
Nothing last forever
Not even pain

I wondered if she could love
But I know she does
Even love that is ending
Never dies
She fell in love
With the sadness in my eyes
And broke her own rules
To see me smile

.

Words from perforated ceiling tiles squawk
as megaphone filters blare
in crackled sequence
around missing stations
and call letters that aren’t acronyms

I hear these words, but shake my head
I know they are for me,
sent by well wishing advisors
wearing t-shirts imprinted
“I’m with stupid”

(and the arrows point at me)

Still I don’t heed the warnings,
I can’t, for dreams require reaching,
top shelf visions waving with
hope filled coupons
offering no discount for the heart

“Don’t want what you can not have,” they shout
As I continue to climb the frozen escalator,
cleaning my shoes on the bristles,
then checking my appearance in the sunglass
reflection of a mannequin missing one arm

(and I feel happy for this plastic person)

For it has no idea how it feels
to be out of style, yesterday’s sleeves
Worn of worried first impressions,
heart beat delusions and needs
at the end of the line…to check out

and yet, until the time comes for me to “check out”
I will not give up on that dream, regardless of
invisible sales clerks on their eternal breaks,
because I will reach that register and I will ask that question
to which she just might say yes,

(and then who will be wearing the t-shirt)

I will always be yours
Although you may never be mine
But that will not **** my heart
Or chase my soul away
Your heart is numb towards love
I know
Your have days of darkness and  biting doubts
Whispers of failure and loathing echo through your ears
You can walk through a warm pleasent day
Yet your every breath fills your lungs with ice
And everything you do hurts
You could look straight to the sun
And your eyes would still only see clouds of misery
Somedays you have your reasons
And somedays this lifeless blanket just wraps itself around you
Tightly like it is your skin and your soul
Somedays are worse than others
Somedays are not so bad
Some even good
And maybe it wouldn't be so bad
If you just knew what each day would bring
Sunny tuesdays
Horrible saturdays
A black storm appointed
Every third thursday...
If it was predictable
Maybe... maybe it would be easier to bare...
Probably not...
But maybe if there was a why...
A why to the darkness
A why to the bricks in your hands
A why to the wall going up more often than down
A why to the whispers
A why to your lungs filled with ache
A why to the numb
A why to you crawling back into this pit
A why to the again and again
A why to you hurting
A why to you hurting yourself
A why for your loss of lust for life
A why to your reflection not being as beautiful as you actually are
A why to the silence breaking over the beat of your heart
A why to the whys...
But the days are unknown as to what you will wake to find
And the nights are unknown of when the monsters will whisper
Or the demons will be hiding under your sheets
Or what seeds of doubts the devil has placed under your pillow
To rot your dreams and your hopes
From within your sleep
And the whys only echo more whys and whys
And even the days you wake up to a smile
Or fall into pleasant dreaming at night
Not knowing how long it will last is the shadow stitched to your feet
The nagging question of how long before it hurts to breath again
The anxiety and fear of a bad day looming
Only brings the clouds more quickly
You have lost sight of yourself
And its hard to see yourself as anything
Anyone would be inspired by
Anyone would treasure
Anyone would call beautiful
Anyone would love
So you listen to the whispers and the doubts and the whys
And you brace yourself for a bad day
Instead of enjoying the good one you woke up too
And no matter how many times you hear it
Or are shown that
You are treasured
And beautiful
And inspiring
And that you are loved
You still find yourself crawling into your pit and your darkness
I don't have a cure
I don't have the answers to the whys
Because there is not always an answer
And there is no cure
Treatments works to a point
Pills often **** as many if not more than they help
But the greys of the unknown
Are darker than what little light is understood
What I do have...
Is my hand
And my hope
And my love
Every time you crawl into that hole
I will crawl down with you
I will burn my heart and soul
To keep your lungs warm
I will always be here
In the dark
In the hurt
In the doubts
I will always be yours
My heart will not die or break
My soul will stay by you
No matter the weather tomorrow
Or next week
Or at the end of time
I will love you endlessly
And expect nothing in return
My only purpose need be
To show you your light
And your heart
And your soul
To reveal your true teflection
Your true beauty
To show you
You are inspiring
You are treasured
Your are beautiful
And you are
Loved

And so the elements did wage bloodshed
upon the realms, and the natural world bled
in numbers. Obsidian did dredge seeping
upon natures frail innocence. And weeping
in sorrow as life was entombed beneath.
Its tears of ash sealed eternally underneath.

Cinders were bathed in heavens truthful tears
As the each contended with elemental  affairs.
Oak did lumber forward to entangle all within
roots, as the heavens screamed on soils sin.
Wood did splinter, shards impaling friend
and foe, collateral damage as anarchy did descend.

The earth bellowed as the onslaught of force
did disjoin the soil. A champion would endorse
the others right of battle, blades did clash
as such impacts did render all near by to ash.
brimstone against the clarity of diamond shards
As no ground was won as blows befell within yards.

Fighting still mummers as elements do now crusade
In natural form. Allegiances do switch others made,
Scars still do heal even though such a long time ago,
when lightning strikes a oak, know they are still foe.