A king of reptiles,
a broken man,
your pain created such beauty.
Look at what you've made.
You, yourself, are a master of creation.
The cage that hinders me never held your heart.
Your cage was an empty needle.
Held within, the years we lost with you.
Life and death hold the same meaning.
Can you feel the torment fade
and your blood begin to thicken?
Ride that snake on home, Jim.
Ride that snake on home.

I stand on the edge,
enamoured.
The poetry of one long dead
reaching out to me through a wormhole.
Taken too early from a world not ready.
His words reach through my chest,
into my soul, pulling out the deepest pains
and the brightest days;
Pulling me deep into the Earth
to hear it's silent song.

Exposed and unafraid,
I lie alone in this sea
creating waves of my own volition.
My creature comforts are forgotten here,
except for the ever-diminishing cover of the bubbles.
A porcelain deep
made only for me.
Here I lie, planning a life I'll likely never see.
Love unending,
wealth immeasurable,
a life worth living.
As the ocean's hue begins to change (red and furious)
a final thought crashes to the beaches of my mind-
-I want to live.

Stop me if you've heard this before
but I feel this feeling fleeting,
running opposite me
to lands unknown
where lost dreams go to die.
Why are words so fickle? Leaving at the lightest touch,
the barest hint of anything new.
A world, undiscovered,
lies within a place I can reach only when I am most bare.
My purest form of self,
mewling and screaming,
pulls from me this insatiable insanity.
Yet with the slightest digression my sleeves roll themselves down
and it's gone again.
I am lost into reality like some suited being,
honking at the other monkeys in futile attempts to make up for lost time.
Was it worth it?
Is that loss of captivation worth an ounce of conversation?
Bring me back to that place.
I want to feel the pen warming between my fingers again.
That smooth ink feel on dead, life-giving friends.
Is this the closest I can get to holiness?

In the darkness within the light
I cry.
This shield from the world smells of you.
I can feel you there,
From miles away,
Staring at me.
You wonder why this is happening,
Wonder why I’m sad.
I’m not sad, I’m angry.
I’m angry at him for trying to stay,
I’m angry at you for causing this pain.
I’m angry at everyone I’ve ever known.
I hate my parents for breathing life into a soul that should have been
Extinguished.
More than that, I’m angry with myself.
Why do I allow myself to make these decisions?
Whose idea was it to give me power over myself?
Free will? It’s a prison.
I want nothing but to be rid of it.
Please, let me sleep.
I only want to sleep.
Yet I continue to breathe you in.
You are sodden with my sadness, I am broken again.

He says I smell like rain,
so to complement me he smells of
freshly washed stone.
Dust rising in the air,
sometime in April,
when my showers have cleansed him.
We are not the same person.
He is grounded,
I live in the air
'til I come crashing to the ground,
where he waits for me.
They say water will break earth.
He's broken me instead,
in the most beautiful way,
and together we will create mountains;
Unscalable and true,
Deep and ancient and wise.
And when we are dead
we will stand monumented.
Our journey through life,
when he was rough
and I was a storm
of fury and form,
and you will remember us.

Desperately clinging to innocence long past
in hopes that you can hold to some inkling of it,
no matter how far gone.
You can move forward
with that same youthful exuberance
in a body well older;
pray to your god that it lives on inside you
as it tries,
with an unfailing knack,
to leave you in this world's dust.,
Maturity dragging you- kicking and screaming- all the way.