At the tender age of sixteen,
My darling was taken away,
To heaven or hell,
No one knows…

Her life a gamble,
And her death so,
Inconsiderate,
She just had to go…

What do I do now,
At the tender age of sixteen?
Without her caring presence,
And uplifting grace?

Perhaps a drink,
Maybe a smoke,
While she still yet,
Watches me.

Ruin my life in her name,
To see if we become even,
In pain and equity,
It hurts to be…

Without my darling,
Trish, the meek.

Let me tell you a story,
Of death and a boy.
The boy was dead inside,
Outcasted and harassed,
But his friend and at last his family.

So walking along the street,
No one else had gone upon,
With his ****** body,
And crazy mice.
He met death a waiting.

As his time had come first.
Death incarnate,
And Living Death,
They talked and slowly but surely,
Became the best of friends.

He did not plead for his life,
Or beg to acquiesced,
Death being surprised,
At someone so unsure, being so content.
Broke the Law and the Word,
And let the boy go away.

One day the boy was a man,
In his own disfigured way.
Innocent at heart,
****** in all but the brain.
He walked with stones,
Hoping the weigh his fate.

And Death still followed,
As the protector and procreator,
The one friend that remained.

But alas Death grew sad,
As he looked ahead in time,
And saw that this lie would have to be corrected,
Dave would have to die.

So along the beaten path,
That got colder and colder,
The man became sad,
Yet sure in his task.
Suicide was his only option,
His desire for control on his fate.
What irony, what pity,
To see the trap that lay.
The universe is a cruel thing,
And it had been made late.

The man got to the cliff, at the end of the forest,
When readying to jump,
The lion took him head first,
And mauled, and ungutted,
He screamed and begged for help.

But his screams did not last long,
As Death settled in.
The look of fear, of recognition,
And a lone tear let out,
With his last lifeful look,
Into the eyes of his very first and last friend.

If, Tomorrow…

If tomorrow I was gone,
Would you Still remember me?
If tonight I ceased to breathe,
Would you still feel for me?

If tomorrow, I was missing,
Would you care to look for me?
If in the morn’ I was nothing but bones,
Would you still know me?

If tomorrow, I disappeared,
Would there be searches for me?
If I felt like dying,
Would you rescue me?

If tomorrow I screamed,
Would you still hate me?
If my anger burned you,
Would you forget me?

If tomorrow I was dead,
Would I leave anything?
If tomorrow I was gone,
Would anyone miss me?

Crying whilst riding,
On my unicorn themed bicycle,
Past at my back,
Sun absent from the front,
Only the present lays for me.
And that’s why today I tell you,
That yesterday is the only hope,
Our future will succeed,
And Maybe in response,
Or just plain fear,
You say this quite tasty diatribe.

We are all born rotting,
The grave not far off,
In this universe of Trillions,
We are but one.
And you know what else,
We are just an animal,
With the arrogance to presume and assume,
That we are the greatest,
In a sea of fools.
To wonder why we survive and thrive,
While others are put on the wayside.
It’s a pity and it’s a shame,
Its life from within.

So I move slower still,
As I listened to you words,
Each syllable piercing me,
Like the butchers knife on the pig.
But the tears are gone now,
Replaced by blood,
But not my blood or your blood,
But those of innocent ones.
Asking silently ironically,
Who was it that made me this way?

Now Its many years hence and forth,
In this futures hellish morgue.
You sit on the deathbed,
Waiting for one last chance,
But it never comes,
And you never say,
How sorry you were to leave me a bay,
That if you could go back today,
And open your heart to my crying face then,
That perhaps things would be different when,
Our lips locked in heavenly harmony,
And along with our soothed souls,
The angels sighed in ecstasy.

Finally, it snaps back to now,
Like a dream standing still,
Even now we see the death of love,
And the birth of hate.
The diatribe it receeds,
And instead your kisses breathe,
New life into you and me.
Maybe next year death,
And with another kiss the year after,
Cuz life may ****,
But at least we have each other.

Eventually,
All good things,
Must come to pass.

The Day must fade,
Sweetly and succinctly,
Into the Night's kind embrace.

The seasons chance,
And the years go,
Our Final deposit in the Crematorium.

The Summer years pass,
And fade into fall,
And into winter, the death of us all.

Yet after every winter,
After every death,
A New Spring blooms,

Life lives again.
Fight and struggles again
The Sun rises once more.

The plants come back,
The animals out of sleep,
The child is born.

Every day the Night must come,
The moon must shine, and have its say.
But even the mighty moon must too, give away, to a brand new day.

The old man is in the wilderness,
His children never borne.
His parents torn.
He lives alone.
And he likes it so.
No one to tell him what to do.
No government to bore him too.
No lost or love...
Little effort, and much fun.
Yet still for this man,
There feels a hole,
Something inescapable,
Yet not quite describable,
Somewhere within him,
Something is missing.
Lacking a vocabulary,
He finds himself lacking.
So he carries on his day
Chopping wood for winter,
Eating fish for dinner,
Beating his dog for pleasure,
And sleeping for leisure,
He lives a simple life,
One away from danger.
A hatchet for protection,
And a musket for intervention.
But slowly the hole grew.
Until it weighted more than he did.
Bigger and stronger than he,
Eating him from inside.
Yet he was a stubborn man,
And he would rather die,
Then ask for help.
Or a neighborly "Hi,"
So his illness went untreated,
And his loneliness grew.
He beat his dog more,
and ate a little less.
Cried at night,
And knew naught why.
Like a black hole it consumed,
Everything it could see,
That hole slowly grew,
From out his heart it bleeds.
One Day,
Their was nothing left.
Just the hole,
In the guise of man.
It did not move,
And it did not breathe.
The dog had already went away...

I just want to destroy.
Vanish all you conquerors,
You don't belong here,
I just want to be alone.

Thinking, reflecting in the back seat of the car,
As time passes by in a crystallized disunity,
I believe I was meant to be here,
Today as I am, hating so ravenously.

What if I controlled your lives at my finger tips,
What would I do?
I am not a happy person...
I think for the best but... I just want one day.

You don't understand,
Well that is fine with me,
This is my poem not yours,
The heat that courses within me.

Why it's a beast,
And it's just been born,
Now waiting to be fed,
Feed it, feed me, let me consume.

Flames now surround the world,
And I cry without tears,
My body pukes without bile,
And I die without death,
A rebirth of hellish proportions,
Is this what you expected?
I'm not supposed to be here though.
I- am not supposed to be a man yet,
It hurts.

Is anyone coming?
I wish I wasn't alone anymore.
Its cold now.
I was wrong.