I run, whenever I get scared, I run away.
I run, even though I should make a stand.
I run, something inside of me is scare boy.
I run, though I have Christ beside me always.
I run, I wish that I would change right now.
But I run, in the wrong directions always.
I should be running toward, instead of from.
I run, when instead I should stand firm here.
I run, when life starts to become hard for me.

Tell me the story
About the war
And the mother
Who used to worry
Under your branches
About her son so far
Away from her
In the trenches

Speak
About the two lovers
Who used to coddle
Each other
Next to you
Who carved their name
On your trunk
Who promised
To remain
A couple
Forever
And never let
Their flame
Fade
And wait
Until the war
Comes to an end
So they can
Wed...


Tell me
Of the little girl
Who used to scream
And jump
Around your trunk
And sometimes pump
Into you
So that you
Would rain
A few leaves
On her hair

What about...
The fire!
Who brought you hell
So that
You can’t tell
All the secrets
You know
To the crow
And inspire
The young men
Sitting there
To write stories
About you

Tell me
Tree
About your story..

Here I am again, with a tightness in my chest that only means one thing
I'm falling and it's not in love
Deep within the confines of my mind is scar tissue so grotesque that no scalpel or other remedy has yet to remove it
And it's under this that houses the secrets that aren't so secret anymore
I've been exposed and I don't know how to cope...
How do I explain the inner workings of something that's broken
I don't
That's my answer
I've lost the warmth you've asked for many years ago
I don't do understanding just as I don't do love
Not anymore, and yes it's been a while since
But I'm still sore
And my throat still stings like a mouth full of saltwater,
And my lungs burn like a breath of sulfur and cigarette smoke,
My veins web like train tracks trying to carry life back to a heart that beats thanks to a grace I'll never deserve
And it's this life I lead that troubles my mind late at night,
Lying next to someone wondering what I'm doing with my life like a light bulb with a paper filament I feel like I'm on borrowed time
And it's this fire I feel that I am scared for
For I'm afraid of the dark
And the only other source of light in my life at the present time comes from someone I barely know
And it's in this cold home I find myself with a keyboard tap tapping through thoughts that probably shouldn't be exposed to those who know me but here we are
Words have always been hard but somehow I find these lines flow from my mind like spilled bleach wiping away all other words I could say
Because talk is cheap but I hope these words hold meaning
And that it may better reveal the cracks in my facade for I am no different
I pretend like everyone else
And my only hope now comes from these very same cracks for I hope that somewhere somehow a light can find it's way back into those thin walls in between the tectonic plates of my heart.
A light in the dark

I sit.  
You sit next to me.
I feel your warmth.
The sun shines.
Hugging us.
I listen to life holding me.
Like a mother.
I cry.
We get up.
We walk together.
So pleased with everything.
I am proud and tired.
I listen to you and your mother.
I am happy again.

I'll stick my sword so deep within you
                                  our children will be knighted

Even before there conceived....

I'm there mannequin of echoes, they treat me
like a brothel, I'm used so many times, I feel *****.
Every time they exploit my subconscious I cut
ever so lightly to relive the memory of them.

They entrap me, a poster of my features hangs
tattered in my mind.
"Reward given have you seen these lost reflections,
I'm lingering within this lost and found motion.

I slumber in a collection of memories that are woven
tightly upon myself, I try to weave my migration from
this place to realities knotted grip. But I'm an illusion that's
never pulled from the hat, I see the impression above me.

I'm a mannequin of repetition, fondled seductively on
a bed of onyx petals. I'm seduced many times, I feel loved.
Every time they weave silken verses on my subconscious.
I'm hooked, and ever so slightly I recall those contorted moments.