Lascivious feel of a man
misguided in his triumphs
enthralled with his disasters

Self-inflicted are the scars
Invisible to the eye
But he sees them

Vague imprint of a face he knew
Engraved in his consciousness
Chiseled by affection

Memory of an effigy
Vaulting spasms to the mid
It's an infection

Struggling for air
Desperate to grasp a branch
Long since cremated

Suffocating infection
Chokes him
An echo of affection
Torments him
Cloistering rejection
Roots him in place

The feel of the vehicle, bitter from the night
Blue light on the dash
Whirring of gears as the glass rolls
Eight air fresheners hang loose from the mirror
Holding on to your memory

Grabbing for the pack of death
And lighting another nail in the coffin
reticence clawing at his ears
The memory of your mirth fueling the fire
Indigestion strikes like a knife to the side
Held by your slender hand

The laughter shared obsesses the heart
Beating with such vigor and plight
Mind tripping on compromised pasts
Tender is the ghoul from the nail
Circling his head like a noose
Bound by your memory

In remembering solace
To ease his concern
Taking comfort in his rusted cage
Seat embracing him
Upholstered in stained fabric
Shedding light on shadowed nights of old

His memory of you fades
No longer lancinating
No longer choking
In taking solace in the void that has become your memory

Day and night
   One forever chasing the other
Elevation to base level
   Naturally trying to reach that comfortable low
Positive and negative
   Trying to balance the chaos
Shadow and light
   One cannot exist without the other
Matter produced in a black hole
   Still has an anti-matter counter part to settle their chaotic existence
Quantum coupling
   The idea that particles that are smaller than our problems can be linked and effected together in real time
You and I
   We thought this was it
   We figured the chaos was organized
   That the day and the night coexisted in a beautiful coalescence
   That the creek stopped flowing and made a lovely pool to swim in
   That this black hole called our lives had stopped *******
   I assumed things were peachy because you seemed happy
   But then the moon ran away, the sun to forever chase it
   A crack formed and the pool began to flow again
   And that hole called my life began to slowly spin
   And devour the colors in my days
   Leaving only black and white
And
   Days and nights

Is that it?
Are there no more words worth saying?
Could it be
That all my cuts and gashes
Have scabbed?

Is that it?
Is that where I derive my words?
From the old stubborn pain
Of a heart in shards?
Is my ink not simply
My life blood pouring out?

Is that it?
Is it so sad that I need
To hurt in order to spill rhymes?
Is it worth it to pick at old wounds
Just so I can make a bit of
Self indulgent art?

Is that it?
Does my mind simply become
Stagnant when it has no
Negative input?

Can't I write when I'm full?

Can't I write when I'm happy?

Can't I write whenever I want, regardless to how you left me?

Is that it?
A question I asked myself over and over
Is that it?
The only person willing to listen
To my pleas was an inanimate
Pad of college rule?
Is that it?
Is it?

Born under Artemus
To the mother, Nemesis
Born to fight against
The hounds of hell

Has earned his company
In the temple of villainy
Has earned his place
Among the lore

For the lore be written
To include the villians
For the lore be not a judge
To cast shame on him

His actions have bound
His fate with the hounds
His actions will decide
Which road to chase

Which sends his soul
To a heart once his own
Which sends his mind
Into insanity

His state on the plane,
A strange domain
His state on the dais
A pawn to the fates

Who allow him to rectify
His mistakes in life
Who allow the hounds
To snap their jaws

At the gates of hell
With a familiar swell
At the gates of Hades
With a heart of hatred

With a beautiful prize
Held up with pride
With a beautiful emptiness
Caused by vengeance

The hounds snap their jaws
And click their claws
The hounds move aside
To grant his passage

Into the forever abyss
That is born from hate
Into the forever
His name, Eucledes.

I met an eccentric fisherman today
He was five foot five  with a beard
Seven foot seven

As gant as the pole in his hands
And more bronze than my shower taps
He had a salty grin and six black teeth

'Ye fancy fish, interior boy?'
S sounds whisled
'Aye got one ere for ye then lad'

It floundered in my tender land hands
It's gills flapped open like window blinds
'Relinquish me boy'

'Wet my skin in the waters of home,
And I'll trade a desire for my freedom'
I gazed at the fisherman

He had disappeared

'Release this fish and I'll grant
The deepest wish for ye, small ant.
For my power is great'

I'm hungry, powerfish
I haven't eaten for days
Could you give me that?

'A simple wish, a gift most easily given
Drop me boy and you'll taste heaven'
It floundered

Water splashed my face as the fish
Swam away from the shore.
Where is my meal, oh powerfish?

'Fool hearted boy, simpleton left hungry
Never trust fish or else ye angry
Enjoy the hunger lad
I'm the tastiest fish you could have had!'

It's hard to stay hopeful
Hopefull hope full
Hope
The adamant, stubborn desire for something better
Or something more

And being full of it can leave you
Full of ****
Who are you kidding?
What a joke it must be
To maintain hope when staring down shame
And dismay

But you have to remain hopeful
Get a fresh glass of the ambrosia
And fill up on hope
So much hope that your ****
is saturated in dreams
And turn that frown upside down
Hop in that boat of dreams
And sail into the sun
Sail into the future

Build a mast out of happy
And a sail out of positivity
And oars to be fashioned from the finest
Apple tree
And float on with the hot gail
Maybe you'll find that distant shore
Where hope grows on trees
And the smallest fruit fills your dreams