Like a rag doll in the rain
Your love, hence, purpose is gone
Now your forced to endure the pain
As you realize you were just a pawn

In your story this was the great love
In his you were just a bit part
As insignificant as an old glove
He tears out your still beating heart

My temple is covered in scars
Each scar telling a story
Though most of them are gory
None is more so than ours

The largest scar holds the key
To the reasons all the others be
No one but the two of us knows
How the true story goes

And so I covered the temple with scars
Attempting to hide the true tale
Then locked myself behind these bars
In the end to no avail.

A single matchstick
is all it takes to brighten
the chaotic dark;

but it takes nothing
for the darkness to feed on
and consume our fear.

°•°

In all of our eyes
is a tiny bit of light,
big enough to see.

In all of our eyes
the pupil's darkness is void:
central to all light.

•°•

Man created fire,
and he brought light to the earth
to fill night's darkness.

The man who knows fire
gains a fear of the unknown:
the dark he forgets.

°•°

There is no darkness
without light. To see darkness
you must have sight: light.

The wrath inside you boils from your rage;
your anger elevates to drown your sense.
My blindness has deluded me as sage,
serene and irreproachably intense.

It’s likely that my passive nature’s pushing
my little brother, you, – who hates that term –
straight to hear discordant, silent ringing
as wrath’s contorted demon crisply worms

into your weakened ear to fill your mind
with bubbles, red, and bursting sound, and DARK –
which spread like darkened dust-storms into mine.
That ready wrath, red and quick to spark

burns best those minds invulnerable to sin –
such smug-singed souls sink – slaves to self-delusion.

Who is this ghost in the corner of my eye?
I've seen that ambiguous shape before.
Was it in a nightmare?
Or from a repressed memory?
I can't shake this feeling that I've seen this ghost before..
I want to meet this ghost..
But I'm worried of what secrets the ghost holds.
It's concealed itself in the dark abyss..
This dark abyss is beckoning to me..
It feels so warm against my skin..

I never felt like I belong here.
No matter how hard I tried, I never belonged.
Could it be I'm destined for something greater than life on this planet
Or am I doomed to spend eternity with the latter?
I wander across this land in search of who I am but it seems there is no answer no where in sight.
Am I suppose to quit this journey or continue to walk in denial?
How long must I endure this nightmare til I finally wake up and face "reality"?
At the night's commencement, memory of this life drifts away into the forgotten stream.
I can taste the answers but the moment I begin to relish in its delicacy, it fades from my grasp.
What is left for a king whose kingdom has fallen?

With those acid wash jeans
With that full sleeve of twirling black ink
With the drapes of long hair
I thought that we could leave the xplosion-club
After the confection of colognes
After the South African red wine
After the pounding music all night
Something **** about
A statue that can move
It's eyes
Something **** about
A man that thinks
Openly

We took the subway back to my apartment
You picked up a pebble and tossed it
I was quieter now
Would I let him inside? I have to at this point it seems
A charming prince
is a charming prince

I open the door.
Nothing bad happens, as I expect
I am a little paranoid I don't know why
(The club flashes back)
The door closes without its usual creek,
And we're inside.
Me and the charmer; I wonder, was he once a frog?
I have a funny feeling that I think came from the wine
Am I trashed or
Does he have horns?
Slimy toadskin, red eyes, 1000 inches of claws
Suddenly
Are upon me, Oh my God!
I tell it to leave mE ALONE,
It doesn't listen to me.

Every time I try to slip out of it's grip
I slide into a claw
Gushing this stuff from the movies,
It covered the bed and then the floor,
It probably leaked out from under the apartment door.

My cellphone rings in my pants pocket
I can't reach it because by then this grendel thing had broken me
Into two legs, a torso, two arms
And a decapitated head
While it eats my right lung, my left hand tries to desperately crawl away
He pokes it with a great fork; no escaping crums
The awful amphibian finishes and leaves forever.
He's never coming back
A winner-and-loser kind of ***, I guess.

The worst part about falling
is not when you hit the bottom.
Not getting back up after the fall.
Not when you have to let go,
Not when you have to move on.

The worst part about falling
is knowing that you are slipping.
Knowing you are slipping, deep down
into a pit of demons and despair.
Knowing you are breaking.
Knowing you will be held hostage
by the devil inside you.

Knowing you need help,
but when you finally cry out,
no one is there to save you.
And you just have to allow yourself to fall.