when guns speak louder than words
all beauty must die
when we let any child die
all hope must die

when the earth will move us
far away from tears
all beauty should remember
its momentary flee
in a child's knee

They flip like flapjacks,
Sizzlin' on heat;
They flip like a light switch,
The rats,
The finks,
The stools,
The snitches.
How many will get told tonight:

     Y'll sleep wi da fisches.
      That'll school you alright..

You smell like pure warmth, sweet and heady, like a muggy summer night just after a heavy rainfall; earthy. A wet cedar, woody scent with an undertone of citrus. You smell of home, a sheltered blanket of safety.

shadows entangled so it happens
the oppressor and the oppressed
such an intimacy of pain terror and shame
in the quietness of the right hand the left hand
surrender to the cruelty of an exchange
to be or not to be delusional
this is a question
reality just an approximation of a terrifying
mystery without meaning

a beat of a heart alone in the dark
we have many songs but still little understanding
about the growing shadow lurking in the bright light

Tell me what you want me to say? Tell me what you want me to be. I'll play pretend. If it gets you looking at me again.

A path of thorny roses
carved itself unto my skin.
I see her struggle,
her thirst and
desire for sunlight.

A petal falls
and blood trickles down my leg.

She fears that she will wither
before she opens up to bloom.

I gently caress the petal of the rose and whisper
is my pain of no concern to you?
My blood will not quench your thirst for sunlight.

Yet despite that she's nestling deeper
thorns buried
and aching
out of some form of misplaced necessity and desperation.

A desire to live, a desire to grow, a desire to blossom.

By the roots, I rip her out.

I am no means for her survival.
Nor am I afraid of pain.