Some mornings come with a side of regret,
The product of long dark hours,
Long dark dreams, infinite thoughts,
That cannot be cast aside with such pale light.
Its roots taste of truth, but bitter.

it seemed fitting.
it was what you wanted to hear.
I wanted it to be true.

You lied first.

it bought some time.
it just seemed right.
I couldn't admit . . .

You cut deep.

it saved face.
it was easier.
I hoped it would change.

You deserved it.

It mattered.  But
it doesn't anymore.

Trapped inside a nest of lies,
Raging against the sea and skies,
I run from prying hands and eyes
but am faced with what i most despise:
A Truth that I cannot disguise.

Eyes
Meet and connect,
flicker
grey in green
blue in brown.
Souls brace for impact and
Flesh warms.

There is a truth that I
Could never believe
And acceptance of which
I could never conceive:
A heart that is mine
With mind to match.
Such and elusive creature
I never dreamed I'd catch.
But now I open my eyes
To days so full and bright.
I open up my soul
To this feeling that it's right.

So I'll climb back on this metaphoric horse,
High and long since gone,
Remembering life and lethal force
And where the lines were drawn.

The issues are spent, still never away,
Surfacing once in a while.
Closure not found for memories stay,
Haunting and tasting of bile.

So we met with Fate
And looked him in the eye.
So we killed the sleeping dogs
And left them there to Lie,
Whiteness burying the black,
Remeberance forgetting:
Truth is in a salad bowl
held in heart-shaped setting
So we watched the days go by
And eventually lost  track.
So we through the wolves ourselves
And then lay there in a stack,
Bound head and hand,
Our sanity exceeding
The wariness of will,
And souls bare bleeding.

I spent the better part
Of an Hour, staring
At my veins, tracing
Blue lines with Black
marker, Sharpie.

I won't tell you how
I spent the worse part.

Different lines run
Through my skin

I counted them:
Faded and Fresh.
Grim tally
of Triple digits.

I swim in bare walls,
Dark tide, images:
glass meets tile, crashes
Ricochets,
Stings; sheets
Tattered.  Life
through a grinder.
Splintered.

Unnatural menagerie,

The tiger crawls,
Surfaces.  Escapes the well.
Breaks cold links:
Steel, Iron,
Indestructable spiderwebs
spun fervently,

Silent explosion.

The tiger flexes, nails
Grip flesh.  I am torn
inside Out.

Vertigo.

The tiger paces,
restless among confines,
spinning eyes.

I will the world
to                Burn.
          Drown.
End.

Seeing and smiling, I calmly explode,
Typically unpredictiable, I am
Shaking sorrow from my coat,
Drowning in rage.

Living and lost in oblivion,
I'm breathing but still not here.
An outsite in my own life, I
Rely on broken cruise control.