Petals the color of midnight. Thorns that ***** and draw out blood. A fragrance that can hypnotize. Flowers planted in a barren garden where nothing else will grow. Dark Roses bloom in the light of a blood red moon, flowers fit for a widowed bride. No love can be found in these flowers for they were sewn in the hard ground by grief and death. They serve only to testify of mourning and sorrow at death and tragedy of a love lost too soon. So grow the Dark Roses, a reminder of the pain of loss.

Eyes of deepest green with hair that is soft and brown. A laugh that can cause butterflies to smile. An inner light that is soft and caring, with a strength and firm resolve. A wit sharp as a razor and beauty that comes from with in. What a precious jewel a daughter like this is to see. To watch her become what she is meant to be. You only get to see her for a very short time.Then on to womanhood she must go. If only for a fleeting moment, you can enjoy her, what a blessing that is you see.

My stomach is tied in knots, my head is throbbing. I cannot eat or drink anything, I feel as if I will die. They say the first day is the hardest, I am not sure who they are kidding. They say it gets better as each day passes. I have felt like this before when I couldn't afford a fix. Now I feel like this on purpose and it really *****. All I know is that this the first day I have wanted to be clean and sober. I crave the junk so bad that I fear my heart will explode in my chest. I lay here in a cold sweat as the nurses come by to check on me. I am not sure what time of day it is. When they bring my meals, I just get sick and throw up, although there is not much left in my stomach. I have to make it, I really must try. If I ever want to be free, then it is day one and we shall see.

Rushing, rushing, running, always in a hurry. Making the most of the hours of the day. Imposing limits on our time, running our lives away. The seasons go unnoticed, our children grow in fits and starts. We compartmentalize precious moments all to complete a task. We scratch and claw for resources, thinking they will give us an advantage, only to come face to face with reality when we run out of time. Our children are grown and our business deals are done. We look at the age lines that we have accumulated and wonder where our time has gone. As we take stock of our own mortality, we realize that we are all ways behind. We come to understand that from the day we draw first breathe that we face our own death, which is our true dead line.

The cuts riddle the body, the blood oozes from the wounds. A calm silence fills the air. No gasp for air, just a gentle sleep. Rest has finally found a weary soul, though it might seem like a gruesome end. Few will ever know the torment that a conscience wrestled with day and night. The unimaginable demons that clawed at the psyche of the person now at rest. Like a thousand bee's buzzing in the head, so were the endless voices of discontent. Pills only dulled the buzzing to a humming, that still caused turmoil and violent emotional storms. Now all is quiet as people in White coats with squeaky shoes come into the room. They move the now restful soul to another bed and wheel the mortal remains away. While somewhere in a quiet corner of eternity, the person that was is being reborn. A new creature with only one voice telling them what to do, and not many demons trying to steal a piece of their soul.

A person rises up and works hard ,then the government boot comes down on them. The powers that be say we must be compassionate, but where is compassion for me. I know we need roads and bridges, I can see that each time I hit a *** hole. I know we need a common defense, but who are we fighting with? It is time to reevaluate the system that takes so much from everyone. We are taxed for our gas, we are taxed for our food. We are taxed for our water, for our clothes and our shoes. We are taxed on our income and if there is anything left, we are even taxed after our death. We can't even rest in peace with out a visit from the IRS.

Bang one goes down, Bang another home boy hits the ground. Pop, Pop, Pop goes the chopper, cutting down the enemy for what he did to my brother. Life in the street is about banging for the buck. You can get money if you have a lot of luck. Keeping it on the down low, that is how the street life has to go. You live by the law of the AK and the 9, they are the only ones you can trust when you choose this life. Making your way by the kilo and the gram, sometimes you run, and sometimes you must make a stand. Keeping it real, in the belly of the beast, looking around every corner for the police. Rat tat tat, someone is trying to end your life. You in the street hustling, trying to provide for you kid and your wife. Where does this nightmare end, if you aren't really lucky, in the grave yard or the Penn. .

I sit idle against the wall and look out a dingy window. In my ear I hear a small voice, it says I told you my way is easier. I shake my head and close my eyes only to see darkness flooded with pail colorful dots that look like the prelude to an old movie. Then images flood in of past mistakes and wrong turns. I try to move but I lack the strength. I open my eyes again and the voice says, it is inevitable. I look at my arm filled with track marks and see a spent needle in the corner. I can feel my heart beating faster as I begin to float away. I roll over and climb onto my bed as best I can. Looking up at the ceiling, I hear the faint whisper say just a little more. As I begin to become lost in a dream, I hear the whisper become a roar. I hear the rush of my blood coursing through my veins, the thundering of my heart, thump, thump thump, then the deafening silence. Suddenly, I see the whisperer reaching out to me. The cold dark fingers grasping my life and pulling it away from my body. Then a blinding white light fills my eyes and I feel the lightning rush through my chest. My veins are on fire as the doctor puts the injection in. The silences is gone as I watch the dark hand fade back into the nothingness. Death whispers to me, perhaps not yet, but I have time to wait.

The world seems confused to me. I can't seem to keep things straight in my head. I see the sky on the ground and the earth is above me, what is wrong with me? I get all mixed up when I try to make sense of things. I hope that my condition isn't serious? The doctors can't seem to agree what I should do or even what is causing my confusion. So I think I will just sit under the giant mushroom and watch the pink sea turtles swim by. I hope that I will eventually come to  a conclusion as to what I should do, perhaps I will ask the walrus the next time he comes by.

Run your hands over my body, make me scream. Bite me and pinch me in places that give me pain. Pull my hair and make me beg. Turn me over and give my *** a smack. Force me to bend down for you and tell you I like it. Use me for what ever turns you on. I am not a good girl, I want to be used. I am not your mothers choice, I have nothing to lose. I like it when you make me squeal and cause me a little pain. What I call having fun, others call depraved.

Watching a homeless person beg for change, I just walk on by. Seeing a mother that was addicted to drugs, now clean and sober asking for help to get her children back. My heart feels no sympathy, I have lost compassion and love. I see the images until I am jaded and I just don't care anymore. The love of my humanity has waxed cold and I seem to only care about myself. Is this what we are to become, is there no mercy left with in us? The shadow of apathy has fallen upon many, I often prayed that it would not be me. Now I find myself caring nothing about the human suffering that I see. We are all becoming guilty and will one day have to answer for our in action. As we watch others suffer with depraved indifference and go about our daily lives.

Piece by piece monuments are torn down. Brick by brick that which is distasteful is set aside from public view. Ignorance is bliss to the nay Sayers, as they writhe in discomfort at remembering past ideals. To some they are heritage, to others a stain on a memory. To all they are reminders of things that should be remembered. In taking down that which we dislike, we offend our children and hide our mistakes. Ugliness isn't always welcome, but it is part of who and what we are. To dismantle any part of it and pretend that it didn't exist, is to discount a part of ourselves, for good or ill.

On your way to wherever, I was sitting slumped on the sidewalk with a sign saying please help me. As you drove down the street I was playing in front of a run-down house with tattered clothes and no shoes but a joyful heart none the less. As you watched the evening news, I was shaking and sick wrapped in a cheap silver blanket while you ate dinner. As you got dressed up to go out to eat and have fun with your friends, I was crossing the street with a cane trying to get back home we just a few cans of food. While you were laying in a hammock in your front yard wondering about the things that people consider, I was crying next door as my father beat me with a belt because he had no one else to take his frustrations out on. I am everywhere and I am every person. I am every opportunity that you have to make a difference, did you see me?

Kids in the kitchen, flour in my hair. Biscuits browning in the oven, and laughter everywhere. Cookie doe on the baking sheet being pressed into weird shapes only a kid can imagine. What looks like great confusion, is the closest thing to paradise this side of Heaven. When the mash potatoes are plated and the biscuits are golden brown. The table is quickly set and the family settles down. With folded hands we say grace and the eating begins. We quietly say please and thank you as the food is passed around. The clanking of forks and spoons is the only real sound. When all the plates are cleaned, the cookies are passed around and everyone gets a good laugh at the funny shapes that we have cooked. Then the table is cleared and it is time for sleep. Dinner has become a form of therapy to keep my sanity in a world gone utterly mad.

I stare at an empty chair though the place has been set. I long to hear the clink of your fork and spoon. I miss how you mash up your food and make me so crazy. Eating is not the same when your away. So finish what you have to do and put your slippers on, an empty seat awaits you. Eating as one is just not any fun. I just don't enjoy eating without you.

Pour a shower over me, let the Crimson flow. Let my skin be awash in its life giving essence, let the opened veins pour out. Release my inner beast, cast aside the bridle that restrains me. Open the door and let me play on a dark field. Let my skin become white like snow and glisten as the red droplets drip off of me. See the heat rise from me as I meet the bitter cold. The thirst takes me and cannot be quenched, now let the Crimson rivers flow.

Looking into the mirror then at a photo on the night stand, I begin to wonder who I really am. I see myself with my children and wonder where I have gone. I know that I love them, but where do I belong. I once knew who I was and where I longed to be. Then life got complicated and I lost my way. Now I stand here trying to find my path. I think it is time that I make some changes, perhaps just subtle ones. I think I will look around and see what can be done. Perhaps I will take a journey and find out where I want to be. I am not sure what it will take, but I need to find out who I am. I need to restore balance, and get things in hand. Before my life comes to end, these are things I need. I just want to return to really being me.

Daring to leave my comfort zone and learning about myself by getting to know something new. Expanding my horizons by walking beyond my own front door. Reading something I have not read, working with someone new. Learning new life lessons that I can carry with me where ever I go. These are things that make adventure worth while. This is what it means to become alive and get out of your shell. The world is not such a fearful place, once you learn to take a chance. While there are dangers in anything we do, discovery is one of the most wonderful parts of being alive.

Try then fail, then try once again. Repeat and alter just slightly from the first time. Become frustrated then break through the problem. Solve one puzzle and discover another. Go back to the beginning, then return to the middle, before deciding that the end is actually the beginning after all. Such is the path of discovery, such is the way of life. Mistakes and reversals, trial and error. This is what makes discovery a journey unto itself.

Shuffling through my emotions I relive all of my days. I look at the triumphs and failures and think about different things. I pull at the layers of my inner self to find out who I am inside. I look for some reason for knowing love, fearing what it is that I might find. With know sense left in my spirit, I dare not chance this to fate. If I make one mistake, it could end the gift I have been given. So I carefully dissect my heart to know that my love is sure. Because I cannot never find this gift again, because I have found perfection in you.

Frustrated by my own mistakes, unsure of my next decision. I am not sure where I should turn? Confused by bad choices and missteps, I wander around in my own thoughts looking for answers. In the turmoil of my own internal conflict, I obsesses over my emotions. It gets to the point that I begin to emotionally internalize my problems and shut down a part of myself. I then become apathetic and begin to border of depression. Trying to find a way back from the edge of despair, all because I am disillusioned with myself.

Our bodies are far apart and yet are souls are knitted together. We said we would not part, but that was in another forever. I long to hold you and feel your gentle touch. Yet all I get to hold is empty space and it tears my heart to pieces all of the time. I know that you are frustrated, well so am I, but what can two people but slowly watch time pass by? I promise that this distance will not diminish how I feel. I want you to always know that my love for you is true. Until I can bridge the distance between us, I am not sure what else I can do.

One nation under God is no longer the plan. We will fix it ourselves, we no longer need a divine hand. Our government will give us everything, but will leave us with nothing. Just like sheep to the shearing we quietly go along. The heathen have infected the halls of power, now America is divided, there is no room for compromise. They say we have a mountain to climb, but in truth we are lost in a desert. Our moral compass is broken and it cannot get a reset. The seeds of dissension are being planted at every turn. It is no longer about helping, but it is about what is in it for me. United we might still stand but divided from God and each other, we will surely fall.

I pick up my pen and I scream into the paper. I cut the pages and pull out the pain that is in my soul. I tear at the fabric of the parchment. I cry in each word. I want to know that I am received. I want to know that I am heard. I write and post, and then wait. Sometimes if feels like ages before someone likes or hates what I have said. I care not if they love or hate me, I just want to know does anyone hear me.

I am alone, there is no point in looking for someone to keep me company. I have been deserted by everyone and now all that is left is the inevitable. I just have to find the courage to take the next step. Who knew it would be so difficult, one way is quick and one is slow and painless. Another way makes a statement and perhaps makes people think. A razor, a gun or an overdose of drugs, does it really matter how I meet my end?

I look at the news on my television and I see the ocean of people fleeing from fear and hate. I open up my morning paper and I see a story about a ****** and a ****. I feel so dejected and hopelessly alone. I ask myself what does it matter, how can I go on. Though I try to do that which is good and help out when I can. I see the never ending suffering and the tidal wave of despair. I want to climb to the highest building I can find and ask does anyone else really care? I know that each time I offer help, I am supposed to be giving hope, but I cannot see the outcome of what I do and I am not sure how to cope. I sometimes feel like I have thrown a pebble into a lake! I sometimes wonder if it is all a in vain ? Then when I am at my lowest, I see a miraculous thing. Another person will do something selfless and I loose my despair. I feel the presence of God and he says I do care. Then I ask God does it matter, and he says it surely does. He says that each little kindness is an expression of his divine love and though I do not see the outcome. He assures me that it does grow and become a wave of compassion that in this life I may not know. So the next time you feel that all hope has been shattered, just remember that to God kindness really matters

My nose is cold, my heart is warm. My fur gets matted and I like to chew. My favorite play thing is your best pair of shoes. I will wait for you endlessly until you get home. I am always happy to see you, no matter what the hour of the day. I love tummy rubs and long walks where you talk endlessly about nothing. I suffer being dressed up as a party guest or riding to save the day, when bandits steal the princess and it is time to play. In all things I am a loyal  trooper to the end. I am your beloved doggie, truly your best friend.

The teams were matched up and the game had been hard fought. Both sides were tired and sweat poured off of everyone. Every piece of ground and every point had been earned with sacrifice and pain. There was 18 seconds left in double overtime and the next play would decide the game. From 40 yards out a tired you man took sight of the ball. This was it, this was the kick that would tell them all. If the tie would be broken or would the game end in a draw, no one new what to expect no one could make the call. As the stadium filled with a hushed silence, the lineman hiked the ball. The place kicker set up the kick and the kicker let it fly, but just as ball was let loose spiraling into the air, it came crashing to the ground and was running away from the field. For what had went unnoticed from the sidelines and what everyone had forgot, was a Golden Retriever named Alex, that was the home teams mascot. Doing what he had been taught to do a thousand times before, it was his favorite half time trick, with it the Hunter dogs would always score. So free from his leash, he rushed the field and true to his call, Alex stopped the game as he retrieved the ball. No one will remember the hard work that went into that game, but you can be sure that they will remember Alex's name. For in that one viral moment you can almost bet, that funny dog will forever be seen on the internet.

Hear them bey as they lust for blood. Hear the sound of sabres rattle. Let slip the dogs of war and let carnage reign down. Fire falls from the sky and hot metal sears flesh. Guns rage and fire over the heads of unsuspecting victims. Cities burn and famine is let loose, the four riders of the apocalypse revel in the blood staining the ground. Restrain now the hounds and pull back their bridles. Hold fast the rampaging death and scourge that would be unleashed. Talk to one another and come to understand your brother, lest the dogs of war slip their leashes and rampage across the land.

The wicked and the fearful will spite you, they will lie on you and tell false tales. The truth is not always easy, but it is the right way. Doing what is right is not always popular, but it is a better way to live. Working to make things better has it's own reward. Though you may not obtain wealth and prominence, to see peace in your time is a good thing. Hold fast to your beliefs and seek to walk the right path. Though you are persecuted, you will never go wrong doing the right thing.

The sound of keys echo down the cellblock. The footsteps of the officer follow in kind as time passes at a snails pace behind iron bars and stone walls. Looking out of a ***** window you get a sense of the hopelessness as the grey skies pass and the rain falls into a barren and lifeless yard. Nothing grows down there but a few scraggly weeds. It feels like your in a pressure cooker and that something has to boil over sometimes. Yet the days drag on and the bland colors of cement and steel drain the life out of you little by little. You grasp at every thread of sanity you can imagine, but in the end all you hear is the familiar echo of keys and the foot steps of a never ending watch. The pieces on the chess board occasionally change, but the game remains the same. Sitting behind the walls and fences stuck in a lifeless room, waiting on something to change as you die a little each day.

Jetting out of the water on their tails, cackling at the birds that fly over head. Racing against mighty ships and small boats. Diving under them and back up again. Roaming the open sea unimpaired, Dolphins perform a ballet. Tricksters and noble creatures, they call to each other and flutter through the waves. Dancing over the swells, the elegant creatures swim in splendor, oh to see the Dolphin dance.

You are worth more than you know. You are capable of more than you believe. You can become what you desire, though perhaps not in the way you think. A dream should not be neglected, it should be pursued and nurtured. You should never settle for less than your worth nor should you let others tell what your value is.

An edge honed to a fine finish. A point as sharp as a spear. Not too well balanced, but fun to fling about. A faint pungent odor and a strong after effect. Inhaling and holding is the best way to take it in. Both can be useful, a sword for cutting things down and Mary Jane for taking the edge off, just remember not to mix the too, or you might cut off something you need and not realize it until it is too late.

Don't yell at me I scream at the t.v. as a parade of talking heads passes across my screen. I bang the remote to turn it off and head outside only to digital billboards and signs flashing at me. I put on my ear phones and turn on my radio only to hear the same blaring noise that was on the t.v. . Continually over every airwave I hear screaming as if yelling will make me hear. My ears burn at the background noise that drowns out any ideas that someone might want to say. In expensive on pricey couches they talk, talk and talk some more until it all runs together. Please be silent for 5 minuets, give me a paper or book to read. Let me sit in a quiet corner with my digital book and just look through the pages, but please don't yell at me.

In a moss covered tower cut from Black stone, deep into the side of a mountain, where the tallest battlement reaches to the setting sun. On  parchment is written the fate of men, by an old wizard holding a pen made from a dragons bone. Dipped in ink, drawn from the darkest well of men's souls, the ancient conjuror lays down lines on pristine white paper. At the rising of the sun until the going down, he scribes what mortals lives must be. With the bony pen taken from the fiercest dragon, he writes of mortal misery. He writes remembrances of broken hearts and of lost loves, and of greed and betrayal he pushes the words on to the paper with a smile. From coming of dawn until setting sun, he writes and writes on a never ending parchment. Then in the night the stories he has written fade as do the lives of mortal men. As he rest in his forgotten castle, he has sewn the discord among men. He dreams of nothing but tomorrow, when for his wicked pleasure, he gets to use the Dragon Pen again.

Tales of ancient terror brings their legends to life. Creatures with thundering voices and raging eyes bright with flame. Scales of Grey, Black, Red and Green sewn so tightly together that air cannot get between them. Claws that rip through wood and stone turning it to mud and mire. Tails like might Oak trees that smash to pieces anything they strike. Some have wings and some breathe earth scorching fire, giving their legends more ferocity and making them all the more desirable to see and fear. Dragons of legend and lore, created from fact and fear of human remembrance and imagination.

Clang goes the wrought iron gate as I step inside the fortress where my fate awaits me. Behind me is the life I knew, before me is uncertainty and conformity. All aspects of my life are regimented from now on, my life is no longer my own. I lost that right when I hurt someone else, all for my selfishness. Now as I see the specters of half humans hovering around me, I come to see the faces of those that I hurt that will haunt me. I want to hide from the guilt that is inside of me, but the ghost of the past won't let me. As I walk into my new home eight feet by eleven feet is what I now call my own. A space reserved for people like me, behind an iron curtain that is drawn behind me.

I lie down now for I am tired. My journey is nearly at an end. I did not accomplish all that I would have liked, but perhaps it was enough. I ask you to go on after me, do not give me a second thought. Just carry on the work I started. Please dream for me, what I could not have imagined for myself.

Writhing in my bed wrapped in satin sheets, my lover fills me from head to toe. A vision that cannot be seen, but my body reacts just the same, giving and receiving pleasure. I exist in a state of grace, yet not of holy union. I am filled with images of your body and the heat of your touch. A fire burns inside of me that must be quenched, and only you can douse the burning embers. So come now and satiate my appetite for the pleasures of the flesh, if only in my dreams, give me rapture and let my passions be released.

Arm and arm we writhe getting lost in the moment. The heat of the bodies around us draws us into the insanity. We sweat and meld body to body, meshing passions and drowning in desire. The moment is captures and taken for all its worth. The music pounds the earth shakes and we push on to each other as those around us simply fade into the darkness and sound.

Pour the ale and raise my glass! Crack the goblet and buy another round!My sorrow is a wretched thing that haunts me into misery, but just a few more toast and I shall have won! A victory purchased at the cost of my sanity, and tomorrow I will pay the bill, but for tonight I have won the battle as I finish drinking my sorrow into submission!

Pierce the heart of all that you believe, open your mind to what is beyond your sight and reason. Cut the tethers that hold your sanity together and let your spirit embrace the unseen and the unknown. Take up the staff of doubt and break it into. Accept that there is more than you can physically know. Be guided by forces that you cannot see. See within and learn from places that you have not been. Take the splintered wood of your doubts and drive it as a steak through your perceived reality. Open yourself up to the unknown.

Drip , plop, splash go our efforts. Into the giant pool of humanity go our efforts. Into a giant bucket with a hole that leaks out what we put into it, our human efforts meet with futility as we try to resolve the problems of our world. Until the minds and hearts of others can join together and accept that we are all human, the best intentions will just be drops in a leaky bucket that will never get filled.

I am smothered by your attention, I cannot breathe. I am awash in your possessiveness and your constant need. We committed to share love,  now it is an ocean in which I swim. I am drowning in your love, when shall it end.

The emotions swirl inside of me, like dark jewels they roll around and glisten with a black light. The turmoil of my soul is a constant reminder of my indecision. Round and round  the pit of my stomach turns, I try to get it out, but I cannot speak or even write down what I am feeling. I feel like I cannot breath as I try to express myself. All I have is a sea of letters trapped in the treasuries of my creative nature. I am going under and I am not sure I will come back. My pen has failed me and I cannot speak coherently. I am drowning in words and do not know how much longer I can stay afloat.

Crystal ****, Crack *******, all of it is like a bullet to the brain. Living by the law of the gun, making money on the run. Millions flow into the banks, the people don't ask where it comes from. They just take their cut and then they move on. The bodies lay cold in the street, a 9mm or a pipe it doesn't matter which. The victims are just as dead. Leaving parentless children looking to be fed. The street breeds them, it is the way they live. Handouts only go so far, they see what is on T.V. the clothes and the fancy cars. I once was the same, then I got caught up in the game. Slinging on a corner just to make the rent, now I got more money than 50 cent. Gold and jewels I buy by the car load. The finest hotels and beautiful women who will sell their soul. You cannot tell me what money can't buy, my only limit seems to be the sky. So now I am standing on my own building like Donald Trump, I look at the billionaire next door and say hey dog whas up. I see all of the little people down below, ******* on a pipe or shooting up blow. Built on the despair and protected by guns for hire, I sit as the king of a drug empire!

A pill for this and a prescription for that, addiction is marketed to us all day and night. If you hurt then you need a pill, if you can sleep then still you need something to drink. People are falling out and our idols are dying. Children are getting strung out from the medicine cabinet at home, the days of the street dealer are gone. Mom and day start them young, a little something under the tongue. A Benadryl to keep the kid quiet, while liquid libation gets mom and dad right. What is the end, where doe it go? How far are we willing to travel down the Rabbit hole? War is not needed when you have your favorite prescription drug, when will we decide that we have been drugged enough?

What ever you need, we have the fix. See your doctor and get it quick. A potion for this and a pill for that. Magic in a bottle, that is where it is at. Anxiety in your children, we can take that away. What ever happened to letting kids just run and play. Doses of tranquility in gel cap form. What used to be for the sick and old is now the daily norm. We have fallen victim to an epidemic of addiction. They just want to legally make us a drug nation.

Courage in a syringe that keeps me focused. Something I buy just like a cup of coffee. It looks glamorous in a movie, but the reality really *****. I surrender to the need that keeps me going. I deal with people that look ok, but will hurt you without thinking. I pay for the habit anyway I can. Doing what I must to keep it together. All I think about is how it hurts sometimes. I can't make it off of the Merry Go Round, believe me I have tried. Clean and Sober is just a saying, the reality is that I am addicted. No end, no glamor, just a truth of a cycle that I have to maintain and hope I don't crash before I can find an exit to my dependence on drugs.