The pain passes from me to you
A loss is not just a loss
It is a decaying of the soul;
It is a hole that will never go away,
A fight that eats away at you.
I never wanted anyone else to feel it.

Physical pain doesn't compare
To the type of pain I am describing.
Blood pouring from a wound
Feels better than losing someone of the same blood;
We now share this pain.

Now, my friend,
Do not cry
Or do cry.
It is okay to mourn in your own right.
He is gone,
And it is okay to feel empty forever.

I understand.

Lots of people say that
Frankenstein's monster, Adam,
Wasn't that bad.
He wasn't that evil.
He was just lonely
And misunderstood.

But does anyone cry for
Dracula?
Did anyone try to understand that he got turned into a monster,
And spent 200 or so years all by himself,
Slowly being driven mad
From loneliness and heartbreak?

And that he only did what he did,
Because it was the only way he knew how
To make the loneliness stop?
It was a last resort,
He wasn't trying to do anything wrong.
His intentions, though selfish,
Weren't bad.

And does anyone ever pray for Lucifer?
For the one sinner who needed it most?
Maybe if someone would reach out a hand,
Some forgiveness,
And some mercy,
It wouldn't be so bad.
We wouldn't have so much evil,
Because he'd rethink his ways,
After being given the chance
To once more be in a state of grace.

But no.
We can't,
Because we're told
They're evil,
They're wrong,
And they don't deserve
Forgiveness or mercy.

I would like to think
That even the worst
Kinds of people
Can change and be forgiven.
I might be wrong,
But I have a forgiving heart.
So let me forgive those
Who need it.

(You have a confessing heart,
So let me hear what you have to say,
And I promise I will take all that pain,
All that guilt away.)

But if God is all forgiving,
And all powerful,
Shouldn't he be able to forgive
His angel who needs it the most?

Somewhere along the way
I picked up a heavy load
of dead wood, a couple of degrees
east of East Tennessee,
a few bottles uncorked,
problem women, and another
woman, a child, and a mortgage,
all while I wandered down the left fork
of the wrong road like the red silt
in a river that has forgotten
its source, but enjoying the scenery,
the journey, and, of course,
the paths I tended to leave
through the high weeds where I lost
myself and my footprints so loud
I could hear them before I left them
on the ground behind me
like hollow dreams trampled down
beneath the feet that I follow.

What makes my tongue
salivate for more
What flavors make my
knees weak and shaky
A closet foodie with
a need to break out
To share the experience
from appetizer to dessert,
from ambience to seating
The essence pulls us in
and overwhelms, yet we
remain steadfast to be
objective in our critique
At the onset of the bite
I connect to the SAVORY
sensation my taste buds
stimulate almost instantly
Over and over again I
consume until my
gluttonous conscience
shames me to my core
Ironically enough... I
would do it all over again.

Glass falls from the leaves,
Of a tree so green,
Sun shines in my eyes,
Splitting for me,

Rainbows full of living color,
Flashes for my sighs,
So beautiful  I cannot grasp it,
It lies on my tongue but for a moment,
And the wind whips it away,
Evanescently singing, it cannot stay