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Time takes
this pain
and replaces
it with an anger
that maims,
a mood that blames
you
for the weird thing you do.

Never been
more than friends,
but I was hoping
you would dump
those violent
cheating men.

You spent hours
telling me
all about their
cruelty.
How they make you
wonder why
you attract
those kind of guys,
the ones who lie
and lay hands on you.

Meanwhile,
I stop by
when you call me.
When I hear you cry
I play the nice guy
comfort and cradle
the cracked heart,
till you are able
to walk yourself
right on to the next
abusive ex.

Each time
I find my mind
darkened by
thoughts of
self-hate
wondering how bad
I must be
for you to see
sociopathic
sexist
violent men
as a better and
more attractive
alternative then me.

So, I try to move on
until you come along,
say that you miss me
ask me to go to the movies,
and I just jump
right back in.
It is the face of a wraith,    
skin sagging,
flesh falling,
goosebumps crawling
with supernatural
sorrow and fatigue.

Bone thin,
Sobbing,
ancient pains
rising
from some
inner lining
of desperate
darkness.

Living corpse
in constant pain,
choppy movements
of echoed intent,
only a shadow
of the former
person.

Drawn in
an anorexic
frame
this specter
reigns
where once
a full bodied
figure
danced
in joy.

Nervous glances
fearing
they might catch this
emotional leprosy.
Society let her be,
slowly rotting
from the inside out.
Till she was hollowed.
Till even razor blades
could not scrape away
the suffering stain
and pain
of a relentless
existence.
The chorus
will ignore us.
The choir
does not inspire
only praises
the holy figures
it raises
from the dead.

These flapping feathers
of holy white
that flutter up
into the night sky
carrying those
who were born
to die;

They only do well
in our fictional ****.
They only excel
when our ignorance swells
as fools falter
at the mouth of the cave
where all other innocents dwell,
waiting to be saved
by the heroes we made;

But it has been years
since I lived that way,
walking away from the shade
those incredulous leaders made.

It is lonely to seek reality
when everyone else
is ok with an ancient fantasy.

So, I pack my knapsack
hit the railroad tracks
and head back in to the black
where all traveler eventually go
cause as far as I know
there is no Heavenly place
waiting for me at the end
of this waste of space
we call the human race.
I find your sin
deeply embedded in
soft silk stiches that you threaded,
the dark dyed lines you used
to imbue your touch
with more than the magic of
love and ****,
attaching me to the dangerous
state of us.

A practiced deceptionist you are,
spinning illusions with your webs of words,

oh deceiver, oh wicked liar
I bind your mouth with twine and wire
to trap your voice inside your mind
but still become ******* in your webbing.

Tenuously tangled and mangled,
I manage to unthread from you
to find a new avenue to the truth,
but just as I am about to unwind
I find I am inclined to stay entwined
with the very vines I used to bind you
because I am not ready to lose
the one who misled my lately leaded heart.
Her heart breaks
in random shapes,
shattered ventricles,
busted atrium,
and like humpty dumpty
we can’t ever put them
back together again.
Tiny dots,
little moving
people;

They only stop
when it is
their time
to drop dead.

Not set in stone,
not gonna
finally go home,
just becoming dust.

I touch the dirt
let the earth
run through
my fingers
and down to
the ground.

I know that
this stuff
was once
star dust,
as was I,
that every particle
that plays a part
in my being
was once the heart
of some cosmic furnace
burning, exploding
and finally coming
down here
to become me.

Isn’t that neat.
I may be a nice guy
but if you *****
my glass demeanor
I get much meaner.
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