you're gone physically, but it's not that easy.
you're still here in the way that I can't let anyone else know how I despise every inch of myself.
you're still here in the way the marks on my skin won't let the memories fade.
you're still here in the way where your broken promises make me cackle just as I'm promised a simple text.
you're still here in the way as when your name is casually mentioned I cringe.
you're still here in the way that I can't seem to trust those who are most sincere.
you're still here in the way that youre embedded into my veins, your key still fits the locks in the towers of my mind.
as much as I'd love for your physical absence to bring the absence of your memory in my mind it does not. your memory lies in the dungeon of my towers and your key is tightly placed into the key hole. as many times as I change my locks that ******* key fits
and that's why I won't let anyone that close even though your place needs to be filled. because you physically left and you took the part of my mind that knew how to be strong and how to tell the right from the wrong.
you're gone physically, but it's not that easy.

She is stunning.
Wavy hair, the color of sand
on a calm California beach.
With wide, naïve green eyes.
Her lips,
the color of cupid pink,
slightly parted with confusion and distress.

Where is she?
She surrounds herself
In a field
of black roses
and tainted carnations.
Her mind is blurred,
Her movements are shaky.
She looks around,
Where can she go?
She wants to go back home,
Where the hopeful daises
and the white lilies lie.

She wants to look at the world,
and see the protective, green trees as she tilts her head up.
She wants to see
the bright, yellow sun staring at her,
with welcoming eyes.

She is tired of seeing
Air filled with smoke and despair and sadness.
She hates seeing the
grass on her lawn,
that used to be so clear and vibrant,
turn to utter decay and an anguish color of
Lost hope and defeat.

She wants it back, she wants it all back.

Little does she know, that no matter how long
she spends contemplating and compensating
in that repulsive field of black roses and tainted carnations,
She will always turn back to those
lovely,
hopeful daises
and white lilies.

*-andrea

Privacy to sing;
             to think;
             to dance;
             to slice.

to be or not to be

left with my thoughts
let them stir themselves
like a spoilt stew
or limp, useless, worthless, rotten meat
that's good for nothing.
dead and left for
flies and worms;

i hath made worms meat of me.

deserted and alone
with my inner most thoughts;
                                desires;
                                wants;
                                passions;  

My sacred groove
My sanctity
My hollow alter and
Ceramic pool of most holiest
tap water.
Locked.

Where noone can capture
my hunchback, deformed, depressed
thoughts and passions
As I Cry
Sanctity.

where they cannot be killed
where i can bow so stubborn knees
but
not regret the effects of mine crimes?

help angels, make assay.

i am naked
i am relieved
i am pleasured
i am truthful
in this hollow tub of release
i thank whoever invented indoor plumbing
for my madness and sanity

for all that glitters is not gold.

Two seconds pass between the moment,
I leave your driveway and the moment,
You text me "I miss you",
Two minutes before,
I miss you in my arms,
Two hours,
My mind starts to drift,
It is better to drift,
To set my mind free,
Allow the demons of my mind to escape,
To watch them tear down my world,
Rather than to realize that I can't see you,
It's been two days or is it two weeks,
Time doesn't seem to matter anymore,
The only perceptions I hold true,
Are the moments I'm with you,
The moments your gone,
And the moments when I realize that dreams come true,

I see your beautiful eyes,
I lay in bed next to you,
But sadly the last thing on my mind,
On a cold Saturday night,
Is,
Tomorrow I have to lose you,

Two seconds pass between the moment,
I leave your driveway and the moment,
You text me "I miss you",
Two minutes before,
I miss you in my arms,
Two hours,
My mind starts to drift,

She came first in a dream
when I was fifteen. Yes,
she was the fire of ecstasy and her first licks
set my world aflame.
She's a shape-shifter, sometimes
fair and sometimes dark,
but always naked
when she comes.
She often whispers secrets
in the molten, swollen nights.
She even shows me jungles
and raging torrents down
where tom toms throb.
But when the morning breaks,
and I'm alone,
I struggle to remember.
Accordingly, I search the cities,
the far off mists and mountains
and the subterranean rivers
every burning day.
So it won’t surprise you to know
that where I mostly go to find her now
is under the volcano,
the place of endless fire.
It's where us dreamers and those demons
dance with our desire.

Mike T Minehan