On the shores of Vietnam,
She was Ly and
He was Tom.
He saved her from a falling bomb,
How much sweeter does it get?

He brought her home to see the states,
Took her on a couple dates.
He even set and cleaned the plates.
How much sweeter does it get?

They bought a home in east Rhode Island;
Decor to match her home in Thailand.
She acclimated to the dry land.
How much sweeter does it get?

Some years went by and Ly would cry
When Tom would get deployed.
"My country needs me."
"So do I."
They both would get annoyed.

So one day Ly brought up to Tom
That life is like a ticking bomb.
So with his quill
He penned his will
And ended back in Vietnam.

Bullets showered from the sky
And mines exploded from below-
But ****** really stole the show...
The warm night skies all orange aglow.

Ly heard soon of Tom's demise...
Tear drops glistened in her eyes.
But she was quick to realize
The will, the future; oh the prize.

How much sweeter does it get?

You speak,
there's a fork in your tongue.

I placed it
as gruesomely as I could,
just as you did with knives
in my back.

Your words,
simple myths,
spewed it
so horribly.

Your words,
mediocre myths,
yet so credible.

They should be recorded,
passed down,
as you pass on;
down.

Hell beckons you.
You remove the fork
and I see your horns
how could you have hidden them before?

Tick tock.
                                                                                                                                                              Tick tock.

                                                                                       Tick.
                                                                                       Tock.
Tick.

                                                                                                                                            Tock.




                                                                          Tick.






Tock.
                                                                                                                                                              Ring, ring.

Sometimes a comet collides with the moon
Creating a crater; a lunar lagoon.
A history of time, not unlike tattoos-
Up there all alone, I bet it sings the blues.

As I slide
In and out of
This world,
The bed burns cold
And I feel like I'm
About to hurl.
Screaming softly,
Ragged boat
Glides over
Jagged hope.

Lusting feelings, tormented soul.
Close your eyes,
(Or don't) I swallow you whole.
I feel you kick and scream,
As you fall down-
Down deep inside me.

Ripping apart
As our souls collide,
We are becoming one-
You're all of my pain.
My body will soothe me
And start over again.
One.