Burn this fabric
the weave of the grandest way
we wrap our secret selves in
and write little patterns
that somehow pushes apart
from the comfort of speech
to break the truth
into lie-able bits
that everyone can approve of
because they are pretty
then you will be hollow
with the desire
to tug on the dangling strings
that always itch
the nose of conscience
to be rid of the ******
the mold you have been force in
and you will unravel when it hurts
and you will unravel when it is quiet
you will become bare
just shape
just like everything else
and when you find
peace in your own decimation
a single flower will grow
behind your lifes eye
a memory of when you took root
in the self
a lense to see your life
as you mean to live it

He was the god of forgiveness
The god of second chances

And we killed him.

So what do we blindly honor now
In this given life?

the question clung to the temples
of the newly born revenant
who still played in concert with her heart
though the music that they made there
had gone quieter over the years.
and just now
In her fleeting embrace
he saw in her eyes not the past
but the future
like stepping out into the winter
after an evening by an oakwood fire
and his fear drank his blood
for he had already carved her name
into the stones of time
that line the path of his life
and when it was finally time to sit down
he didn't want to take off his shoes
alone.

The flames of failing stars
Strike not an inch
Across my heart
For I have lost my sense of pain
In sunflower smiles
All that is
Swirls in intricate dance
As I fall through the laughter
Of what must be a billion
Golden days, But no
Just this single moment

Wild, And with beauty

The snows across your broken heart
are the ashes of mine
cremated in the fires of abondon

the cozy embers
behind your gaze
flicker in deaths breath
and Ignite me
with a longing facination
Your snow owl eyes
Hunt mine by the winter moon
Inviting me closer
and closer

I will not look away...