You are the ice that layers itself under the snow,
And what I have to watch out for with each step, as I walk.
You are always there, in my mind.
But you are not always here, because if you are I can't see you.

It seems so complex,
The way that you linger around
Even after you're long gone.
But this is as simple as ice in the winter.

When I think it is safe to run,
I may slip and fall down again.
Because you are always there.
You are always here, my ice.

I can not rid you from my life entirely,
as much as I wish it were possible.
I will make the same mistakes,
If I do not watch where I am walking.

I must live with the realization that the ground is not solid.
knowing that walking on, is not as easy as I have remembered.

A color scheme settles, into the black and white.
The areas once shaded, crosshatched, and scratched out
Have been evenly filled in with vibrant colors.

A yellow sets itself within the confines of lines on a page
As the dense blue stains heavy paper, with a bold sincerity.

Details without color, drew out texture and description.
Greens brought out life in these lines,
Red, added a thrill and suspense.

I am black and white,
I am simple, but complex to the detail.
Let's not ruin a good thing,
Color is complexity.

Shifting times -
The turn of a season.

It's a beautiful, and dramatic change
Which slowly envelops all life.

Coercing leaves to the ground,
And coaxing the cold white into making it's first appearance.

This change happens every year before our eyes -
Plants and animals all change their ways
Yet our habits stay the same.

Man does not react as efficiently as the rest of life;
Man does not always notice this vast change
Until he sees the final leaf fall from tree.

I am the graphite, in the pencil which you hold.
I make my appearances where you place me, and nowhere else.

You use me to scratch out your thoughts.
You use me to draw these lines of conformity, to which I wish not to abide.
But I must - as you create these lines from myself.

Write on, you hold the power the same way you hold me,
With a firm, yet slightly loose grip.
You hold all control.

"I do not wish for this."

I was once full, respectable and of use, but you have worn me down.
I have been degraded, and as simple graphite I can not simply put myself together again.
You have diminished my encasing, sharpened away my boundary's.

Pyromancy, is what I fancy.
Living for heat, and getting burned;
There are few greater lessons that one can learn,
Than to deal with a fire that forever churns.

It's an agonizing dance filled with a torturous dread,
But it will ignite your heart with passion, once you gain a kind of tread.

Dance with me fire, I no longer fear your burn.
Entrance me, desire, show me what I must earn.

Dig at me
With your knives and your spades,
You will not unburden my heart.
You can not find what no longer remains,
Or what was never there from the start.

Plead with me, your insincerity,
For thy glazed eyes will not ever see clearly.
I am full, of this emptiness.
I am the unhealthy and disgusting piggybacking on bitterness.

Holding every deadly sin in the palms of my hands,
And rolling the dice instead of making demands.

Hell does summon my fire within.
True wrath, is my only kin