Walking alone
Others pass, but inside
It's only you
Your hear cries out
In pain, in lament
Why do they not see?
Am I not visible?
As you gaze into the passerby's eyes
A flicker of knowing
A flicker of rememberance
Then gone
Pain screeching inside
Leaving you against the hurt of loneliness

Grass tickles my feet.
There’s a penny on the ground.
I pick it up with my toes.
(The way I would have when I was little.)
I hand the penny to you and tell you today’s going to be lucky.
You call me a dork and touch your lips to mine.
(I always liked how tall I was, you didn’t have to bend over to kiss me.)
I run and tell you to catch me.
When you do we fall to the ground giggling.
We lay there together.
Your hands are so warm on my legs.
(That was one of the first things I noticed about you when we met, how warm your hands were.)
When I wake up you are still asleep and I cannot feel your hand on my leg.
I stare at the wheel chair by the bed.

Before me she lies; a living tender feast
Her limbs yield like cream on a platter of sheets,
I want to consume her flesh like caviar,
In small greedy bites from a spoon made of bone
So every inch of her body knows it’s never alone
Subtle **** raspberries cresting pale colored peach
The flat plane of her stomach an endless stretch of beach
A thin sheen of honey clings to her limbs
Spreading and gathering from my touch, on a whim
Here lies my passion, she whispers to me but the truth cannot lie so easily;
It spreads simple & sweet, unassuming & neat;
Marmalade yielding in a luxe sea of heat
Hence I remember, lest I forget,
it was her smile that caught me,
her smile that sought me,
and her smile that taught me to love.

Your hands are shaking,
Her heart is racing,
His earth is quaking,
We are all breaking.

Please stop saying
That we're going to be okay.
I just don't know how to keep facing
the problem at hand.

Please stop saying
That it's going to be alright.
It won't be, at least not tonight.
This is more than just a fight.

Please stop saying
that they're feeding us lies!
We can see that they are
with our own two eyes.

Robert Frost once said: to perish in fire
would be his choice
in the time most dire.

But should I have chosen thrice
my final vote would go to ice,
the pain of flame
just too great a price.
If world's end should come by night,
I would embrace Cold's numb sleep,
rather than to witness the sight
of dying bodies charred by light.

Therefore, I say:
Heed my advice.
For to perish in ice
would be quite nice