It was on a night like this, not long ago.
The air stood still and the moon hung low.

A loathsome lad on the bow of a whaler.
Not much of a farmer but a pretty good sailor.

Made a wish on the breast of Blue he killed.
"Your mightiest dead, his blood I've spilled!"

Most gods didn't listen save one who did care.
Poseidon held steadfast, his attention was snared.

"Poseidon pay forth my wish which I've earned!
My fortunes everlasting and enemies burned!"

Poseidon appeared though not as you think him.
He appeared as fresh water so the sailor would drink him.

"My favor you seek?" The lads stomach it snarled.
"You killed one of my daughters your heart I will gnarl!"

"Oh dear god who hath forsaken my favor.
Spare me your wrath, my heart don't savor."

The young sailor pleaded his tables now turned.
The house of his dreams Poseidon has burned.

"Quiet you fool your tears do not pang me.
One day I favor you will marry a banshee.

She'll be quite striking, clever, and loyal.
For her hand and her heart you mustn't recoil.

You'll live quite well your fortunes more fair.
You'll suffer no fools, you will not despair.

One night though I'll come back to collect.
I spared your life tis quite a large debt."

Our whaling friend abided then his muscles began to quake.
Poseidon made him ***** so an exit he could make.

They parted ways and many years of travels came to be.
Our whaling lad he had searched those perilous seven seas.

Soon he met and fell in love with a girl from the forests edge.
He proposed to her in sight of Poseidon on high upon a ledge.

A few years passed and soon she bore this man a son.
He couldn't believe his very eyes what favors had he won.

Then one night Poseidon came and rapped his trident on the door.
"A debt must be paid with your own son. I mustn't wait anymore!"

The lad he knew better than to argue with Poseidon.
He took his son from his wife's arms knowing better to abide him.

Poseidon took his son and cast him to the stars.
A reminder far more lasting than any mortal scars.

The young mans wife done cast herself into the firey hearth.
Having done cursed her love and self, for ever giving birth.

The sailor said "What penance, if any, was there ever to be made?"
Poseidon turned away from him for the debt the man had paid.

"Does your pain right now not make you favor death?
Do you not savor in the thought of smelling Cerebrus' breath?

Can you fashion upon your eyes a single saving grace?
How about your soul for one more look upon her face?"

The whaling man said nothing putting pistol to his temple.
The plan it seems all along had been well, rather simple.

A discharged flash and his eyes opened wide.
Prone in his bed his lovely wife there by his side.

His son began to bellow from the crib by the hearth.
Everything was as it was, his love and the birth.

A new moon shone out upon the quiet sea.
Poseidon beckoned the old man to venture out to he.

"Poseidon I don't know what I could do to honor you my god.
Your feats are grand and generous your efforts I applaud."

"Save face my friend for you have learned your lesson well.
And that's to say this **** right here is by Jamison ****** Bell!"

Here I sit.
I don't believe I'm sitting. I don't believe in anything.
I can think I'm sitting. As long as I maintain that I could be wrong.

I don't believe in love. Even if I wanted to.
I can tell how I feel when you're around. And how I feel when you're not.

I don't believe in life. Or death. How could I ever rationalize a belief in something I don't understand?

I think. About fireflies, world *******, scotch, and jokes.
The jokes are to make you laugh. It's my favorite song.

I don't believe in anything. I envy those that do.
I'm just a lonely nihilist who wants to believe in you.

I want to write you a poem concerning how I feel.
It has to come across as meaningful and real.

So I wrote a little bit about my gratitude for plumbing.
Praising pipes and faucets just sets my fingers strumming.

Then I thought this wasn't good and to this make amends.
So I started out on lust, counting down my favorite sins.

What am I? A charlitain? A purveyor of filth and ****.
Someone who speaks of things he wants to stick up in your ****?

No my dear tis not the case at least not this time around.
I'd rather set your mind to ease not run your ship aground.

So let's start by whispering something soft meant to ease.
You can use my sleeve to wipe your nose should you ever sneeze.

Wasn't that not good enough? A little gross for your taste?
Let try to redeem myself I promise I'll make haste.

She approaches draped in honey surrounded by an amber glow.
Knowing things I can assure, you may not want to know.

Like the sun was to Icarus it is her smile that melts my heart.
Without her works to inspire I wouldn't know where to start.

So it's her you have to blame if it's this line you do not like.
I gotta warn ya, if she likes, I'll put your head upon a spike.

Lips like fire smoldering under eyes an emerald green.
Yes I know I got it wrong Todd my eyes aren't so keen.

I'd like to say in closing a great many things.
To spout a song so beautiful like the first few days of spring.

But alas I'll fail you and end this ridiculousness.
By saying I adore you and I need to take a ****.

So tis here I leave you but never for much too long.
I'll cross your mind again one day when you hear my favorite song.

Some of us here, write about hope while others write about pain.
Some of us here, write about love and that which keeps us sane.

Others write about Death and the souls she just adored.
Penning out their sorrow, the mournful cries strike a chord.

Then are those who write about things and faces that they know.
Describing perfect places, landscapes wrought with snow.

Me? I'm just here venting, it's a need. This urge to write.
Cut off my hands, if you please. I'll bleed a novel out of spite.

It came upon a Christmas eve not so long ago
A beast deformed in stature, walked out from the snow
It’s eyes were sharp and wild, jagged teeth like shards
It went from house to house leaving hoof prints in the yards.
Glancing into windows warm with light and life
It was here to reconcile an old and bitter strife
It had a bag that screamed and cried as it dragged it on the ground
An awful thing just an awful thing, to have to hear that sound
It threw its nose into the air and began to sniff and snort
This demon was on to something but what I can’t report
In the bitter cold, you could smell it’s breath of rot and discontent
The chains that draped its frame, made its spine look broke and bent
The wind it howled in vain to warn the people of this beast
It’s cries went unregarded as people sat before their feast
The demon ceased its searching when it came upon my house
I did my best to hide and stay as quiet as a mouse
I walked back into the shadows in the corner of my room
Voiceless, breathless, terrified what was this thing of gloom
I heard it leap onto the deck and drop its sack upon the floor
A resounding thud caked in mud, it wasn’t crying anymore
I left my room and crept down the stairs to see if it got in
Hoping it wasn’t that demon who they said would eat my skin
It stood before the fireplace, the front door was opened wide
I don’t know how this thing got in but I had nowhere left to hide
It turned its face from the fire with a scowl you’d have to see
The demon had a quarrel alright and the quarrel was with me
It pulled out from the pocket of its robe all blacked and charred
A burning piece of paper then it handed me its card
The card read only “Krampus” before I felt it’s claws upon my throat
Now I’m in a bag with other kids set for some other place remote
We were bad and didn’t listen to our parents and their orders
We broke a lot of rules and disrespected borders
Now ole Krampus has us and he’ll probably sell us off as food
This is what you get if you’re whiny, mean, or rude
Now have a merry Christmas and do as you’ve been told
Lest you wind up in a demons bag being dragged upon the road

Some people are just one word
Others a few more
Even a few that are many
For you
There are no words
Because you’re an experience
Just as one can’t explain
What it’s like to lie in the sun
To someone who’s never seen the sun
I can’t tell the world
Why I love you

Deleting this account in a week. If you want it. Take it. Nothing is copy written. I’m done writing.

Dareth do I sayeth? Do I speak of the truth?
No matter how askew, no matter how uncouth?

The fact is I just don't give a ****, a fact I've made quite clear.
It doesn't have to do with you, so fret not of your cheer.

Go about your merry way, and do what you do best.
I don't expect of you to care of this I wouldn't jest.

It's just a fact of life, it's a somewhat hidden facet.
Life's too short to hold it in, just take two puffs and pass it.

We want to care and we will do it, if there's ever any time.
Me? I'm just here planning what could be the perfect crime.

Empathy forsaken to my will for what I strive.
I'd like to be the first, to make it out of life alive.

This world is dark wherein I roam,
often voiceless and all alone.
These things you think I cannot hear,
rest assured they're perfectly clear.

You see my friend there's something amiss,
and it's not unlike that very first kiss.
The event horizon breached by a meeting,
the most delightful of all the possible greetings.

Drifting and wading amongst so many souls,
aimlessly doubting they share the same goals.
Lamenting their woes and playing the fool,
never keeping in mind the golden rule.

It's in your nature to feel somewhat needed,
to serve a purpose many have pleaded.
To know that your death might bring them sorrow,
to know that sadness would visit their morrow.

Still though you stand there out in the rain,
thinking no others could know your pain.
Feeling alone and misunderstood,
I cannot help you I wish I could.

It is our tasks to wander this earth,
hoping and praying that time will give birth.
To a realization or an epiphany,
of knowing you are more than what you see.

The journey can **** and be rather daunting,
the spectre of loneliness forever haunting.
Fret not my friend upon looking you'll see,
there's to be no sorrow your will is free.

To love who you want with reckless abandon,
you may happen upon the right companion.
Someone who carest to ask about you,
to know of your fears or the size of your shoe.

Moments show up like scenes in a play,
some last for a while and some just a day.
Hold tight these firsts they may be your last,
before you join me as another outcast.

I ended up throwing the hotdog out and left it to the bag of chips to satiate my hunger. It was the first time I’d actually come across a park with those stone chess boards.
I didn’t have a set with me. Honestly I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to play anyway. I’d hoped I’d at least be lucky enough to watch other people play.
I got to my third **** and was getting ready to give up when I saw them. This little boy, probably five, walking with an old man. He was holding his hand in a guiding manner towards the tables. A very old looking case tucked under his arm and a solem look in his face. I couldn’t see the face of the old man. He had a scarf covering most of it.
They shuffled through the crisp autumn dead to the second table down from where I was sitting. The boy looked at me for a moment before opening his chess case. Just a blank stare but at the same time, melancholic.
He set the pieces up before the old man and sat down. He’d given the old man the white side so he’d go first. Figured I was getting a chance to enjoy a wholesome moment so I moved a little closer. “That’s close enough.” The old man grumbled without even looking to see how far I’d gotten. So I stopped. “You can stay. Just be quiet.” The little boy said. He too not looking at me. Just rocking his legs back and forth.
The old man moved the kings pawn two spaces. Fischer did this a lot. The little boy countered with his queens pawn. The old man snatched the boys pawn and slammed his down. The first blow had been struck. This should be if nothing else interesting I thought to myself.
The two of them set about their tactics. Setting up their offensive and defensive strategies. And the little boy was able to slay a bishop in the process.
It’d been about twenty minutes since they started their game. I got up to throw my trash out and I get an alert on my phone from my news source. Guam got hit by a tsunami. Expected death toll in the thousands.
Thinking nothing of it I return to my seat. People die everyday all over the world. No since in fretting over a place I’ll never go to and people I don’t know.
I sat back down in time to see the little boy capture one of the old mans pawns. The sky was getting darker but my phone hadn’t said anything about rain. These two didn’t seem worried and I was more interested in their game.
A few minutes later my phone chimes again. A massive earthquake has hit Venezuela. Nine point something or other. Didn’t read the article. After all, why wouldn’t the rules that applied to Guam apply to Venezuela? I noticed people scurrying to leave the park under threat of a thunderstorm but since these two were unfazed. So was I.
They continued with their game never saying a word to one another or even acknowledging me. Trading board advantages at what seemed to be a fairly normal pace. Each taking a few minutes or more to make their move.
The old man set his queens rook up for sacrifice. He was going to try to use his knight to fork the kids kings bishop and his queen. The kid took the bait and the rook fell. I get a text from my friend the tug boat captain. He’d been dragging barges down the river for the past two months while they dredged out the harbor. It’s just a pic of a shitload of dead fish with “***” written under it. I asked him if this was on the river he was on. He said yes. That the fish had all just died. By the thousands they were just floating to the surface. I figured it was probably a chemical spill somewhere on the river and told him my thoughts. He made a lame sushi joke and I put my phone away to focus on the game.
I wanted to bring up to these two what had occurred since their game started. The tsunami in Guam, the earthquake in Venezuela, the dead fish. But if they wanted to talk to me, they would have already. So I just lit up another **** and leaned back to watch the game.
The skies had gotten murky and seemed to stir. The birds had grown restless and confused. Landing and flying off in weird patterns. It looked like some were performing touch and gos. Others would either take off like normal and a few just crashed into the earth with fatal results.
The old man moved in once again to snag the little boys queen but ended up losing another pawn.
My phone chimed again with another alert. Much of Yellowstone was being destroyed by a wild fire that was probably started by lightening.
Suddenly the little boy was able to force a decision on the old man. He’d split the line between the old mans queen and his king. The little boy said with no enthusiasm and with subtlety “check”.
The old man could take the bishop but would lose his queen to the boys knight. It was then I saw the old man start to tear up. He wasn’t outwardly emotional about it and the boy made no efforts to console the old man.
The old man took the boys bishop and sacrificed his queen. Then he reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a kerchief to wipe his tears away. Then he hands it over to me without looking up and just says “run”.
I was confused at first but then the little boy turned and said “he’s right, you should run to something you love”.
I got up and watched for a few minutes longer. I realized they’d put the game on hold and weren’t going to move again until I left. So I went to use the bathroom there in the park. I didn’t need to pass by them again to leave the park but I wanted to see if one of them had made a move while I was on the *******.
As I strolled back by on my way out of the park I glanced at the board one more time. From what I could tell the little boy was about four moves from checkmating the old man.
My phone chimed, it was my news source again. The internet was flooded with images of the moon from the other side of the world. It’d turned a blood red. The pictures were almost too hard to believe.
Just before getting here. Every radio station went dead. It’s just static from one end of the dial to the other.
So here I am. And you can believe me or not. All I can tell you is every time that little boy won a piece, something bad happened. Maybe it’s the final battle between good and evil over there in the park. I don’t know. But here I am. At the end of the world.
And maybe I am crazy. But they did tell me to run to something I love.
So here I am.

Of all the things I know not of,
I do not care if there is a heaven above.
A house in the clouds and streets of gold?
Are just some of the frivolities of which I've been told.

I have no need of your petty gods.
I'm betting against them, I like the odds.
I have come to terms when it comes to beliefs.
In that I have none, no gods or chiefs.

I thought that I might've like to go to the show.
To emerge from the shadows and bask in the glow.
It was then that I saw that I wasn't invited.
Upon seeing reviews I was rather delighted.

You say there was dancing and drinks to be had.
That a wise man spoke and said things are so bad.
You gave him your money so he could have more.
He bought a new jet, it's not for the poor?

I think I'm good with this wise man of yours.
He's not feeding the sick and offering cures.
Promises made plenty, never paid in full.
This wise man of yours, sounds more like a fool.

Keep your shamans, your nuns, and your preachers.
I'll take the poets, the lovers, and teachers.
Those people around me who care for my heart.
Those people who nie to tear me apart.

Somewhere
That icy feeling of loneliness is squeezing the heart of someone you know.
Sometimes
It's just easier not knowing.
Someone
Hasn't stopped thinking about you since you left them.
Something
Could have been worse had you not been there to make a difference.
Anytime
You think you're right, there's a chance you could be wrong.
Anyone
Could do it. Yet there you stand.
Anything
Could be everything to someone else.
Anybody
Will suffice when there's nobody to be found.
Anyway
There it is.

So wherein does that leave I
I came to beg a differ.
She let free a woeful sigh
And once again I whiffer.

Relegated I'd say I am
To a lonesome sort of state
I'd like to say I don't give a ****
But for I tis too late

I curse thee love regretfully
For my choices are but few.
I place this curse respectfully
That you may never get what's due.

If I go forth into the night
To mourn the unrequited
To pull the hang mans work too tight
While my sins go unrepentant.

Than so too shall thee suffer
Tis my plight you must share
Let us hope that you are tougher
And find someone to care

The moon she wanders over head.
For she cares not of our pains.
She lights the way for the dead.
A song of rattling chains

The hangman he is voiceless
And your tears quenches he
A life to him is choice less
For he will not suffer me

Pull the lever you ****** fool
Says I to my hooded reaper
Your job I say has one rule
Of lives you are no keeper

The hangman he then nodded
And then removed his shroud
Anguish to my heart is prodded
The silence was too loud

For there she stood at the lever
The maiden who wrought my fate
She smiled at me something clever
My curse was to come too late

She looked at I and blew a kiss
And I could not in kind
She then giggled and said "curse this"
And my life was null and blind

I hope there’s a place
Or better, a time
When all this crazy
Is no longer mine

What scares me. Is you feeling for one minute the way I feel everyday.

From here the trees look black
Mourning the loss of time
Chasms in a sky of slurry grey
Relatable and untouchable

There's no pulse
Forsaken and lost to the cares of others
Sentries of a land doused in fog
Immune to the forces of nature

It's not a deafening silence
It's that sound left here
Fearing it too may suffer this fate
Hopelessness

Complacency prevails the spirit
No sense to be found in searching
Only more of the same beyond
A world void of light

This forest in my head
I walked too far

We won't stand in silence, my brethren and I.
We can find beauty in violence, what colors when you die.

We stand here now where others may have fallen.
From Friedrich William Nietzsche to Joseph ****** Stalin.

Whether they be a tyrant, a king, or an overlord.
A musician, a muse, or a thinker due accord.

These people changed the world, for better or for worse.
Some left this world a little better, some of them accurse.

Put to ink these thoughts of yours as random as they seem.
Write about your problems, or jot down your favorite dream.

One of us who saw you would really like to know.
Did you ever fall in love and how did your spirit learn to grow.

You will change the world. How much to be decided.
Whether it's by acts or words, I'm sure some will be delighted.

Except for you Gacy. *******.

So wherein do they lie, those things too often unsaid?
Have they yet come true?
Or should they be left for dead?

Time will stumble by and death may come to call.
Don't invite him in.
Just let him wait out in the hall.

Back to those things that were always on your mind.
Bearing little fruit.
These thoughts when left behind.

I just don't see the reasoning for harboring such thoughts.
Tying up my dendrites.
Twisting them in knots.

I beg of you to speak your mind I see the beauty there.
Apathy be ******.
I for one do care.

At first sight it was as if she was dancing.
Spreading a fire about the room with every gesture.
So many eyes transfixed on the wonder who held the room
Aoide made flesh?

Had I found the muse of song?
Should I ask her of Pegasus?
Had I ever seen more grace in her essence.
It could have only been in a sunset.

Inquired, inspired, insipid in my lust
To know of her thoughts, dreams, and fears
So that I may slay the dragons
And stand alone before her emerald eyes

Who am i kidding?
What have I done?
I can't win this heart.
With satirical puns.

Dragons and Aoide.
What was I thinking?
This girl is too wise.
She'll know I've been drinking.

But still though there's something.
It must be implored.
What this girl offers.
It can't be scored.

You only get moments.
To stand in her sun.
Cherish these seconds.
For others there's none.

A Viking you see.
Stands at her door.
He'll laugh in your face.
And you'll be no more.

She says her heart.
Is rotten and black.
Though its words to me
Are like that of crack.

I beg of you friend
To know of me this.
To be but a thought on your mind
Is as good as a kiss.

So after a little research (It's that thing you do to validate information shared with you instead of taking the word of a ****** meme) I have come upon some interesting information.
Let's start with religion and capitalism.
This time I'm going to leave the Catholics alone. Let's go with Scientology. I think we can all agree if they're right about everything we'll collectively eat our ******* hats.
The Scientologist won the right of tax exemption in 1993. They hold roughly 1.5 billion usd in real estate. Now with a nationwide average of property tax falling at 1.45%. I did the math for you cause I know how lazy y'all are. That comes out to a loss of over 200 million dollars annually to the rest of us.
That's just one religion of the dozens that enjoy tax exemption. I'm not going to bother griping about the NRA (non-profit tax exempt status), Planned Parenthood, or the fact that in NYC sliced bagels are taxed and whole bagels aren't (true).

Let's move on to capitalism. That delightful dinosaur of an ideology  on whose tail we desperately try to grab onto to keep from being **** on. Oh sure it's all well and good when mom and dad want to open a little store in their neighborhood. Perhaps they want to build something for their childrens future. Or maybe the guy just wanted to sponsor a softball team while making it easier for that ******* down the street to get her ****** Tang every week.
Up, look out, stand aside. Here comes WalMart. 76 billion in undisclosed overseas tax havens. They've done nothing legally wrong. Their army of lawyers can assure you of that. Regardless, mom now works for WalMart, the little store is closed, and dad is a raging alcoholic with rage issues.

My point? If it weren't for these ridiculous loopholes in our tax laws, the ****** lobbyist (why do we continue to allow this practice?), and us as a nation. Maybe we could hire more cops, build more schools than prisons, parks, playgrounds, free education, cheaper healthcare, cheaper prescriptions (prescription drug companies are hiding 2.1 trillion alone overseas). We ourselves are as guilty as anyone else. We pay no attention to what our leaders do once elected. Oh sure you're bound to run into some idiot wanting to blame the president be who it may. As if he just sits there day and night coming up with new laws.
But no. You know what. You all keep focusing on a guy who doesn't want to stand for the ****** anthem. because obviously that's the real problem.

I'll be there when you call.
I'll ask you if you need anything.
I'll listen as you vent.
I'll hold you and tell you everything is going to be ok.
Once you've stopped crying.
I'll leave. So that you can call the one you love.
I'll go home to my couch.
To hold my heart in my hands.
So I can watch it die.

This ebony sky, is Nut so sad?
Angry at Ra perhaps.
Bidding him to Duat.
To suffer the whims of Apophis

What hymn soothes her.
Wherein she would bade him to return.
Tis it the song of the seas?
Shall we call upon the cerulean?

Hathor pays me no mind.
She suffers not my woes.
She is love made flesh.
Maybe I am lost to her.

Cursed this binding darkness.

Bast, what does your third eye see?
Is Duat so chaotic?
Your children long for Ras embrace.
Geb longs to awaken.

My cries go unanswered.
Save for Khonsu.
Who dances with Hapi upon the Nile.
I believe it is she.

Khonsu, are you not tired?
Do you not hear the songs of the cerulean?
Cease your daunting ways.
Rest now so that Ra may run his course.

Mafdet, God of justice!
Your scales lack balance!
Suffer Khonsu no more.
Set right this celestial nonsense.

Just as the cerulean began to grow hoarse. Just as the children of Bast were about to begin their exodus. And before Geb set to ease with frost his own labors. Apophis swung open the gates to heaven. Hapi, the God of the Nile lit up as gold to guide Ra out of Duat.
The earth warmed once again. Set ablaze with life unforgiving relishing it's mockery of Seth. Anubis, lowered his head and sat on the banks. Resolved to let Geb have this moment.
Hathor still ignores my plight. But at least now I can see her.

Because I don't have anyone to listen and I just need to vent.

My heart hurts sometimes.
It's unable to pump at full capacity so it gets tired. My breathing becomes labored. So I go somewhere to be alone. I tell myself I'm going to be ok over and over again.
The pain I'm sure is minimal compared to a lot of other people. I think about them. All of them. And it pangs me to think of their suffering. Because I know they have people that care about them. So I keep telling myself to snap out of it.
It still hurts though. I know one of these breaths will be my last. I know that's true for everyone. I just wish mine didn't hurt so much.
I just wanted to write this out. To pretend for a moment someone was listening.

You were, you are
You’ll always be
The most wonderful thing
There is to me

I've been happy.
That was nice.
I've been angry.
I didn't much care for that.
I've been in love.
That one is exhilarating.
I've been betrayed.
That felt familiar.
I've been hurt.
This one never left.
I've been excited.
It's like a first kiss.
I've been disappointed.
So I avoid people.
Nowadays I'm apathetic.
It has no highs or lows.
I wonder though.
About the other ones.
What they feel like?

The fireflies don’t needs us, they’re going to light up anyway
Nor does the moon care for our worship
Just as the sun rages alone and in vain in a corner of the universe
And time walks past us in shadows of memories
I don’t need you to love me, for me to love you

When you come to the realization.
What an awful destination.
Most of us wish we'd never arrived.
An awakening.
A moment where you realize that you never really mattered.
That that person never thought of you as anything other than just "somebody".
When all you ever wanted was to be someone.
The angst sets in. Consuming you.
All the words meant nothing to them. Those things that took all the courage you had to say out loud. Were of little to no value to them.
Juxtaposed to a feeling of hopelessness.

She will go to where others have flown before
Relegated as a memory
Something to be delved into
One night over a glass of scotch
While someone I don’t know insistently tells me things I don’t care about
I’ll remember she never said it first.
It always ended with “too”
As well
As well huh?
Her smile.
They all smile.
It’s when they stop smiling that it starts to hurt.
The empty rocks glass snaps me back into the now
They’re still talking
I’ll pay the tab
As an example
I have no whiskey at home
And I’m still not numb enough so I’d like another
But I just can’t listen any longer
To this nonsense
Not while my mind is still on her
And her “too”

Today or tomorrow.
I'll never be able to tell you.
To be reached out for.
To see a hand appear out of thin air.
Seeking only my hand.
I've seen it happen in movies.
Where she looks at him.
And it's only him she wants to see in that moment.
That must be an amazing feeling.

To be written about in prose.
To be an infection on someone's mind.
So much so that they need a release.
So they write, or they call just to hear their voice.

Something else to be imagined.
Like flight. Escaping.
In one life maybe.

Some say it is like magic.
Some say it's not meant to be.
I'll tell you my friend what's tragic.
If you don't see what I want you to see.

There is a beauty in the serenity.
And the serenity is what you seek.
Perception gives beauty an infinity.
To be the serenity of which you speak.

Perhaps I may have lost you.
My thoughts are at least chaotic.
This line of thinking is past due.
Because you may think it psychotic.

The serenity, beauty, and balance.
A harmonious trio indeed.
Acquisition would take many talents.
There's an easier way to succeed.

Just put aside your wicked ego.
You don't need it ''tis but a waste.
Let that zen of your childhood regrow.
Back when your pride you had yet to taste.

Beauty itself is flawed.
In that it is entirely subjective.
Into your conscious has clawed.
The idea that it must be collective.

Nay my friend I assure you.
There is serenity in the chaos.
Let your surroundings subdue you.
Any other action would be your loss.

The blood and the screaming.
The dust, the sweat, and the fear.
On the face of the demon who's dreaming.
I can tell you he is always near.

So you may as well look my friend.
Find the beauty that lies in his soul.
For if he should awake my friend.
His serenity will take its toll.

Sometimes.
I like to imagine the world drenched in fire and carnage. The woeful screams of the entitled ****** echoing through the once fertile plains of the Midwest.
As I casually stroll amidst the piles of decaying rotting flesh whistling to myself. The smell of burnt hair and regret permeating the air around me. Smoke and ash choking out the Suns rays letting darkness reign.
And then my show comes back on so I go back to eating my sandwich and watching tv.

You could sit down and write a thousand words or none at all.
And it would still befit her.
You could detail for the reader everything you know.
And then call it fiction.
Why?
She is love incarnate.