Across from me poses,

hope for a future.

But blocked:

By the hammer of lust

I seldom feel.

The smallest splinter
I can conjure up,
is the biggest thorn
stuck in my side.

Ever wave I see
or wish to hear,
phases through me
like a ghost.

They fed their Demons
with the words they spill.
Unknowingly, they shun
the shadow which lurks.
Apparently a friend,
but nameless, faceless to them.

And even my mind's eye
can't fill the holes
the Princes leave in me.
Conjured by the people
who surround
my ever move.

As I recall times
I immediately
begin to lose
all control.
I stand up,
beginning to see stars.
As my mind
begins to drift,
I can’t even read
a single word.
And I feel the ground.
My legs fall,
my heart speeds up,
and I speak
in a language
even I can’t
seem to understand.
I begin to fall
not to the ground,
but to dreams
as I begin to come back.
Slowly I realize
where I am,
who I am.
And I can breath,
I can speak,
I can stand.
But my mind
is wiped.

I found a door

which leads me

to the next level.

The door led

to a new land

a new world.

And now I stand

before a bridge

and across it,

my dreams.

But before I can cross

a witch stops me

and charged a toll.

The toll to my dreams.

But the price:

my life.

The more my eyes open
the more my lips
are stapled shut.
To tear them
open would
only pour
pain and
nothing
would
stay.

But
outside
this world
I would be
able to tear
these so apart
and I can pour
out the illusion
that I am who is
filled with the soul.

But I remain opposed to
everything I wish to be.
To being filled past
belief that I can
be whole again
to tear these
apart. But I
cannot. I
am gone.
Empty.

As I sit across

from the ghost

who occupies the empty chair

I realize the emptiness

that we both do share.

But as a ghost you are free

but chained to this world

as we are chained

to these cages we admire.

but we sit

and write

and sing

and laugh

and love

all the things

that make us whole

but this ghost

is empty,

shallow,

gone.

He is waiting for me

to speak,

to compose,

to create,

to feel

something, anything.

But I cannot,

I will not.

But waiting is he

and I for him.

but then I see

this is not a chair

I sit across.

It is a mirror


And in it,



I see nothing.

How so easily in our world we can be lost.
The divine setting we surround ourselves
reaches out to us to whisper in our ears.
To touch our soul and open us up to see.
This Mother is speaking to us not in words
but in grace. Grace for us to admire.

From the monstrous frames that let us see
past the edge of our blue life force.
To the forests too far for us to reach
or the crevasse to deep for us to touch,
the world's beauty lies in places even
we can't touch, but there for us to see.

From the hands of man or something divine,
elegance is erected in every corner.