There is an old adage - I'm sure you've heard it - that life without movement is death.

today I feel the truth of it
somewhere between my sternum and my spine
as I sit here
the parade of life rushing by
in a distinct effort
to leave me
behind
and all I can think
all I can hear
all I can know
is


*"I am most certainly dying."

Step 1) Speak any language you want.
Helpful Tip: When men die, it doesn't matter what language they speak because all screams sound the same.

Step 2) Worship any god you please.
Helpful Tip: When men die, it doesn't matter what god supported them because all men fall the same.

Step 3) Pull the trigger.

Step 4) Win the war.

Step 5) Lose your soul.

Step 6) Let time pass you by.

Step 7) Forget the lessons history taught you.

Step 8) Repeat.

You've put the sun at your back
To meet it rising on the other side of the ocean

I watch it sink and I am envious
For it will see your face
When the world turns over in its sleep

And all I will see
Is a cold pillow
And empty sheets

Loneliness is a hunger
That eats at my hands
At the vacant spaces between my fingers
Devouring the place on my chest
Reserved for your cheek

It mocks
As it consumes

And I'm left
Empty enough to echo

arms draped in crescents
eyes open to the pale nighttime sadness
we lay like a mural on the darkness of bedsheets
we shiver like silver
stars leave their trails on our cheeks

we have never been more radiant
we have never been more heartbroken
we are the moon

it will be a very long time
before i stop thinking of your lips
every time
i hear the word
*"kiss"

you
brave and foolish soul
found me here
followed into
my impossible labyrinth
to battle with glowing torch
the demons

the fanged savages
those howling monsters
that take me into
their chest
bind me up in their fury
til my jaws rage
and claws strike
deep into your
earnest heart

and only after the damage has
run its burning course
will they drop me
the fire flickering away from my hollowed eyes
and i will see
your tears
and i will
press
my scarred
forehead
to your
quivering feet
and
with what is left of my agony
dragging itself from the ruins of
what is left of my soul
beg for a forgiveness
that you had
already
given
even before
i ceased
to be
myself.