I know you are lying there,
probably unconscious
of where you are,
I know you wanted to
find a backdoor to finally end
your journey to the stars,

But I want you to know,
you will one day be able to
breathe on your own,
one day, you will recognize
your beautiful body as
your beautiful home,

An overfilled vessel,
filled to the brim with
the complications of existing,
I know you are in pain,
but sweet Hope,
I know you'll smile again.

There are thirty of us under a torn canopy
where the sound of wind blowing against canvas
assaults me as if I were being beaten. We will
soon ride into the hills and **** pine; to fell
the mighty as if the mighty are horseweeds.
Every callused man here  hates his weapon;
worn chainsaws that would make  better
tools to fight  wolves than walk the earth
clearing  stands of timber.
**************
Twelve of the original thirty loggers come back
for our 48th consecutive day; it rains as if  prehistoric
elk hover over the camp and **** a lake upon us.  Six men
go home within an hour because farming and stocking
cans of tuna at grocery stores appear more plausible than
wallowing in mire with saws, wedges, and chains with links
the size of your mother’s fist.  It is work and *******
every man  needs to eat or help feed a family.  The money
is not good, conditions like Czechoslovakia WW II.  

The six of us who remain, leave.

Wading through galaxies, I’m floating with fairies and pixies

The scene looks picture perfect beautiful pixels

I can’t feel a thing. Novacane to these emotions

Come ride on this high with me, making memories we can’t even remember

Fogs of despair slowly disappear

Long bursts of ecstasy, short waves inbetween fantasies

Dark heart, cold soul fade to black. Don’t bring the light back.

Make the darkness infinite, never bothered me much anyways

Identical to the milky way, on the edge of euphoria

Cant explain these butterflies, lilies blossom out of clear water

Good intentions, delusions of a deluded brother

This is a love crime, pure ******

Might be cold in the winter, but I want you for the summer.

The dead are all around us
they are as alive
in their way
as we are
in ours

We share a world of shadows
with these manes
and step awkwardly
into the light

Every breath of the wind
is a dead soul passing
every autumn leaf that falls
a secret hieroglyph
from the beyond

Beasts in the wild
know this
thus the coyote
sings his mad lament
the raven turns his dull eye
toward the east
expecting not light
but a flight of dark wings

And dark wings
command my attention these days
my eye
turned inexorably toward
the night

Where every word
is farewell
where all commerce ends
and I rejoin the stream of stars

Done with all of this.
And surely
it will be bliss.

What thought
could have wrought
all this despair?
Yielding aught;
toxifying the air
suffocating adolescents,
atop their chairs.
Now they feel time
intertwining with their fears,
and I feel their tears sear into my mind
So now I hope to find;
a way to make all of their burdens
mine.