I guess you could call it poetic how by the age of 12 I had no recollection of what happiness tasted like on my tongue. Some would say it was tragically beautiful.
But it was not poetic, nor was it beautiful,  but it was tragic. It was so very, very sad, and that sadness is only doubled now that people see sorrow as glorious.  It is not glorious. It is not strength. It is a lump of iron in your chest and stomach and it eats you from the inside, out and you have no right to think that blood stained wrists are anything other than tragic. So very,  very tragic.

beware when you fall in love
with an artist
be it a painter, a singer, or poet

for the artist will
paint you
with strokes and hues
in shapes of every kind

sing about you
with heartbreak lyrics
and feelings which rhyme

write about you
with the simplest words
and a secret message she wants to say

beware of the artist,
and her love
one wrong move
and you're an artwork in her display

If you ever end up falling
you could never catch yourself
is this the reason why
you never say 'I love myself' ?

im screaming at the clock to please stop ticking seething at the moments that won't stop sprinting through oh why are you running away i am crying for the nights that i was not crying i am longing for the nights when you longed for me too i'm searching for the time i've lost because who gave it the right to just ******* run away
i'm sitting here in pieces shattered by a memory
who gave it the right
to just become a memory?

It begins when a
butterfly dies. My stomach
is an insect grave.

I am the embodiment of all
things good and trustworthy,
I have a devilishly seductive
smile.

Come on you know you can
trust me, look in to my eyes,
there hypnotizing wouldn't
you say.

''yes I understand''  

You know what to do, just sign
on the dotted line, repayment in
ten years then you owe what is mine.

'' I'll sign so it can be mine''

Sign in red on the dotted line,
as he smiles with a raised eyebrow
the deal nearly sealed, you can
trust me, as the black feather tip
scratches across the line.

I am the embodiment of all things
good and trustworthy, he says
and the deal is done, devilishly
he smiles, see you in ten years,
trust me ill back now the deal is done....

All i can see is black and white
  Tried to get up on my knees and fight
           Searching for a ray of light
     Before i completely lose my sight


   All I know is that I keep on running
   It was a long long road of dreaming
       But something inside my head
                        is screaming
      That maybe I should stop hiding


          I took another step and then
                   the light comes in
    Maybe It's not too late for me begin
              I'll face every battle and
                     i'm sure i'll win
        Because althroughout, to Him,
                          I will lean.

The Cuckoo called.
His cry plaintive,
His voice etched with pain.
          I searched for Him.
          I parted The Veil, The Wall
          But like the Broken Window, He is not seen.
Our paths merge.
A pattern of Knots and Crosses.
And to His reflection, I call
          Fly with me, You of The Sky.
          Fly with Me, for a Better Tomorrow.
          And together then, We can rejoice,
           *In the Insanity of our Lives.

A confused magician,
I pull the rug out
From under
My own feet;
Remain standing,
Refusing to learn:

Nothing bruises your ego
Like your own
Bruised
Ego.

Singing in one ear, ringing
In the other.
Both drowning out
The voice of shouldered
Angels telling me
To let it go, just let
It go, little big boy.

A confused egoist,
I put rabbit after rabbit
Into the hat of my closest
Human relations,

And remain on stage
Until the last of
The audience
Has left, applauding
Their every step
Away from me.

Frailty, thy name
Is Pride. Another is
Demanding Respect.

Here, pick a card. No,
Not that. Another one.

Some of us spend lifetimes
To grow into
Lesser men than
At birth.