There was no death
But life without her,
Til the sunset every morning
And the deepest yearnings
Echo the slains cry of vengeance:

I glanced at the midnight hour
And found the yellow secrets,
A shadow lay as a tear
And the moon cried beneath
The last kiss.

Where is my heart,
But six feet under
Wherever you are.

The canvas is half painted
And the strokes paint
A masterful sorrow,
Beneath the quarter moons
And the highest light of
The sol,
I begin to see the balance
Of all that may never
Be painted and the depth
Of my passions
Is an abyss of hope.

I lay beneath a crimson
Light,
Centered deeply,
An echo of what might've
Been.

The profits of words
In the night that becomes us,
We the nocturnal poets,
Divinities of the good nights
When benevolence soars
As the pen avenges the light;
Constellation of the return,
Coming to rip the hope from regret
And all dissolves into a pen,
Inklings that become the umbilical
Cord between now and then,
Present and tomorrow
Are written for the sake of hope,
Because yesterday is usually
A sad poem.

Quarter hour gone, I reinvent myself
Born from the volcanic melancholy,
The fire that burns
In the moments we want
Those moment's time,
Here and now,
Words are the quarter hour's
Fulfillment at the poets
Expense.

Im afraid of the words
My father might say
As my mother watches from
An eternal kiss,
And school is not a notion ,
It ia the reality of three lil girls
While I hustle for the groceries.
      I become a shadow,
      Working between the light,
      I want to lose myself
      In mama's tortillas,
      Chorizo and eggs with
      All the love I had the time
      To feel.

I am 5 am. Standing at Labor
Force and hear the words
Curse me, their whispers
Of  My failures only push me,
I grow stronger,
My children grow hungry,
There goes the corner store,
And my gun feeds my children,..
The metaphor does not exist
Here, this the real,
A westside everyday,
Poverty in action,
Rich in the sorrows dance,
Life spreads its wings,
I am left in the shadow.
I hate the metaphor,
Because you will never truly
See the truth of my words.

In my frenzy
I hustle past myself,
Stackin so high
Its an 8x4,
The walls close in as
I serve the fiend.
His paranoia becomes mine,
I hear his kids wandering
If they are going to eat,
I eat their suffering
And put it in a dope house
Of brokenness.
I am everyday
Who dies with every dub,
Every friend that became
Bug eyed and sleepless,
Losing all he ever was
And any love he ever had,
Blaming the world,
I am their worlds.
All that sustains me is addiction,
Yours is the judgement
I feel as you read this.

What is this place I have
Become?
The question becomes a mirror,
The mirror becomes a ghost ,.
The ghost is a demon
That mirrors the man i see.

I dont stop.
I keep the night in the sun,
My Loks carry the night,
I serve with no sleep,
I sacrifice to serve,
More faithful than
The pain in my soul,
The soul a little boy
Lost with the days when
The boy lived by the hand
Of the sun.

A boy dies,
He lives in death as a martyr
Spreading wings of regret,
Requiem for my kids,
I serve a destruction
With an identical sun,
And a mirror is.....
I am,
I was,
Mirror mirror.

Im a sunny day,
Everyone loves them,
But thee storm inside
Me rages on:
You make for a break in the rain
And you stand by me.
Will you always remain?
Like the scattered winds
On the eternal dance
Of waves,
There is no particular order
And where there was no order,
Now brings balance,
Stamd by me.
Being alone is just the deepest
Existence
  When the heart is a caged bird,
And all or nothing in a crazy
Madness that surrounds me,
Its all ok when
You stand by me.by me.