Who needs sleep,
when crazy thoughts
cozy up to me?

loss, grief, pain,
shame, and guilt
are warm faithful bedfellows

I hope that you're happy
You know who you are

You've driven our fair angel
Away from our hearts

She's leaving us all
Because of a few

I tried to persuade her
I don't know what to do

A heart that is pure
Is easily hurt

Her heart was ripped out
And thrown in the dirt

I think I can say for everyone here
All of us shall miss you
You're beautiful my dear!

My heart on my sleeve
It pumps and it bleeds

More than you'd think
Too often it seems

Too trusting ,too naive
I just want to believe

That there's somebody out there
Waiting just for me

Who knows,eventually
We'll meet

I got too high
Floated up in the sky

Saw my heart below
It started to rain

Down I came
Ever so gently

I rested on
A weeping willow

When I woke up
My head was on my pillow

The time now upon us
Great prophets foresaw

Country against country
Disregard for the law

Blood will be shed
Blood and tears fill the streets

A God looking down
Does no more than weep

A world he created
Will extinguish itself

Now this will happen
If we don't have his help

One thing I remember
And remember it well

He only helps those
Who help themselves

Now it's our problem
And we must find a cure

We all need to listen
And hear what is pure

the smell of cupcake freshly baked,

is you in my arms the morning as i wake up

-- sweet

I see ant lines make a trail on paper
Etching out thoughts I thought to have never been thought
I see scenic interpretations of my mind's landscape
Hills, trees, mountains and rivers.
Painting and sculpting all at once
I unravel more than I believe is possible.
So complex, tiniest details of a fine mosaic art

And with  those minute details
I sit down with a mug of coffee
Here in, the cool evening breeze
I weave a tale and thread a story.
And as I write with this hot headed fervor
I see nothing but the gates into my mind,
Open and welcoming, patient and enduring.
Leading me by the hand
Strapping me up for an adventure.

Now, in my own little world
Might take a little more than a thunderstorm  
To bring me out of this trance
Oh no, this world I create and paint
My deft strokes and personal touches,
This one's for my keeping,
This one's my piece of art.

Yes, you look at me and see
Nothing but incoherency  
Sitting in a dark room
Talking to myself
Scribbling nonsense.
Nonsense?!
No!
Just the musings
Of a mad woman !

I sat at a table with Death.
I ate from his plate while he
Pinched from my snus.
We were drinking, and not unamused.
He was quite a good listener; took in
Every word.
He laughed at my jokes, and my
Stories he heard
With a keeness about him,
Charisma and charm,
So far from a force of such terror
And harm?
Not once did he hint at my life or my
Soul.
He paid for my drinks and for
Every bowl of
Nachos they served as we sat
Through the night.
Laughing and sharing until
The first light.
The best of my times. As if on
My request.
Then Death sat his cup down, put
Thumb to his chest.
Belched and stood up, took his scythe
And said: "Boy,
You went as you wanted; with
Beverage and joy.
Now leave every worry, forget
Each regret.
Come home and lay down, you have
Earned right to rest.
No second of Life that you lived,
You'll forget.
I sat at a table with Death.