Your tongue has been ripped out
And you've been thrown out
Into the darkness with the beasts
A fire burning at your feet
People chanting for your defeat

Nails ripped off
****** fingers with throbbing pain
Eyes taken out
Letting your skin burn as you try to shout
Slowly leaving the world
As your insides twirl

Not enough breath to say goodbye
Not enough time to save your life

In death.
A grave marked (Y)ours,
Remains, an empty plot.
The story left unfinished.
A poem left to rot.
The fraying ends of a lover's knot,
cannot and will-not meet the end
at the melting ***.
It will remain an empty plot,
wrought with metal and without a  
weak-spot.
For true loves knot,
cannot and will-not
ever come to naught.

as I lie down to sleep,
these silent memories,
like snails,
slowly crawl into my head,
every memory stuck on replay,
memories of our last kiss
in your small silver car,
the last kiss shared before we faded  away,
like dust we dispersed into air,
memories of that day still
haunt me,
your face
it wont go away,
those beautiful eyes,
the way your touch sent waves of explosions,
inside and outside of  me
you were the only one who could release that feeling in me,
because you knew me,
you once loved me,
such memories are too precious to eradicate,
to make them go away,
how I wish it would never hurt this much to go to bed,
sleeping in a world of old memories,
and shedding oblivious tears.

I hear voices somewhere inside my head
telling me that you are not worth writing about
but I wrote about you anyway

There was a fire in me and I feel your touch
igniting more flames, striking my heart,
wanting to explode

My thoughts were raging and everything was a blur,
shadows were dancing before me
but you were nowhere to be found

You are here, but you are not real
I craved to taste your words again,
to replace the aftertaste of what was burning

I chewed on the ashes,
searching for a tang of you, stinging, yet sweet
And I remember your promises,

They tasted like whiskey and tears,
like a drug, running through my veins,
and disappearing into an ocean of wounds and blood

Never be afraid to be quiet,
For you don’t have to be the loud Extrovert:
Putting on a life and soul of the party act,
While secretly sad inside.

Just be yourself.
Be cool and calm, and of course, collected
As they say.
Be happy with yourself,
At peace with all the world.

Esteem yourself and others will esteem you too.
Be cool,
For that is cool.

Just feel that tranquil lake,
Within your mind:
Rippling gently in the moonlight,
Stirred only by a sighing breeze.

Then bask in golden sunshine,
Reclining on the shimmering sand.
A thousand summers all in one.

Engage with people
And listen
To all they have to say.
Then when the time is right
Make known your point of view.

Until that time,
Stay quiet…

Paul Butters

Grown, shaped to be
A statue, only to seen
Visually yours, nothing more
Internally unreadably
A jester performing, unmoving

Inside the mind, I gallop
A secret, for you, behind closed doors
Or, at least, just out of sight
This is not for the spectators of life
This is my private world, for you

Taking, being taken
Lustful, dark desire
To see and be seen
Without judgment
Concentration, focus

The loss of self
On fire, becoming the flame
Riding emotional, physical
******, mentally owned
Owning the other

A balance in twine
Knotted, spliced together
Brought, bought, sold
Without hesitation
Drawing blood

Coated in each other
A tingle waves, builds
Forced back, anticipation
Brought again, held tight
Around the empaling spike

A release, it comes then again
Riding a wave, emotionally tied
Physically, a piano mastered
Not a slave, without one
There is no other

The wave crests, violence ensues
Assured by the other, safe
A composer of two
The body, bodies
So much more, ours

This, behind the eyes
The statue's mind
Staring out at you
The passé veil
Separates, shields

Never known
To be seen for stone
Posed and dressed
A mask, seen; controlled
Mine for them: bored

To the heart, devilish delight
Worshipping sensual curves
Thinking not that it's sin
Indulging your fantasies
Only now, made them nine