Lay vacant in the dirt, keep licking your wounds
Tear off meat from the corpses, feed off the 'what ifs'
Waste away with ghosts of what could've been
Let yourself disintegrate along with a future that never came to be

Or

Pick yourself up. Directly apply anesthetic on the flesh. Ready the tourniquet.
Brush off the dirt. Walk through the graves.
The dead cannot be offended.
Cross over tomb stones
Step on the flowers.
The dead cannot be offended.
Leave the prayer beads
Leave the dampness of your cheeks
Leave the begging and the screaming
The dead cannot hear your prayers
The dead cannot wipe your tears
The dead cannot comfort
The dead cannot be offended


Do not dig up graves
They are dead
Leave them to rot

Walk out. All the way out.
Leave the dead where they are meant to be, and let life in.

What you don't see
is the way I wait,
watching her braid
worries in her hair
speckling small daisies,
my eyes like tumblers
gulping her in swigs
as she perches glasses
on the arch of her nose,
and then we'll take
a photo
to remark on how
we were back then
and now.

It is inside me,
the happiest girl in the world
but you can never see
the happiness which flew away with a bird

It is inside me,
the courage of a sword
but you can never see
the courage cause you ain't the Lord

It is inside me,
a heart full of love
but you will never see
because it has gone above

It is inside me,
the joy of a laughter
but you can never see
the joy cause of all that happened after

It is inside me
And it will always be
But everything you have should not be shown to the world
Because people don't value feelings
and then you'll be left broken &
there will be no healings.

Darkness Emits from one.
         His pyramid Blocks the sun.
            
            Built on souls of light,
Now drowned in his artificial night.

         A vision quest to save you,
   For your dreams are not yet true.

     Clowns cry before a broken mirror,
     For who They were fades each year.

        Bodies line the streets at dusk,
           Choked out by money lust.

     The banks hold the seat of power,
      As I hold to them my tarot card:

                      The Tower.

They say when you think about someone you “like,” you get butterflies in your stomach.
When I first heard that, I laughed.
I don’t feel butterflies with you.
I feel a wildfire.          
Every word you spit is kindling to the scalding embers in my throat,        
welding my words into bars too heavy for my tongue to lift.                    
I scream fire yet you wouldn’t **** to put me out.
Sweet suffering;
The sickness in my stomach
Like eating too much ice cream at once        
And your heat is inescapable.
Why?
I don’t know
Why?
I don’t know.        
Why?
I don’t know!
Why?
I can’t!
Because the truth is: you could burn away every string of flesh in my body and I would still find 206 reasons to stay carved into the marrow of my bones.
You are not the exhilaration of the fall,
You are the sweat in my palms before I jump.
You are not the volume in my voice,
You are the way I bite my lip before I speak.
You are the finish line on a hot mid-day
And I am the last runner to finish.
If you are a wildfire,              
Then time is a pile of dead Autumn leaves
And we didn’t know any better.
One day I hope you look back and see all that you’ve burned.
There will be people who are rivers and streams and men in yellow
Who will drown you with words and water                
Because they’ve never seen red
And you will always be the only force in existence they cannot touch.
I think you will always be a wildfire
Even when I become a storm-cloud
And you are a timid flame.