There is a certain devil in my eyes
a twinkling trickster who despises
all pomp and proper posers who lie
to gain the affection of the less informed.

There is a puckish knave who raves
to undue the chains of those enslaved
by creative play and poetry
by active explorations of prose and nobility.

I know such endeavors are things of futility
for if they knew my form of Anansi
silk spinning spider
or my formidable four legged figure of coyote
who runs under the Nordic name of Loki,

I am certain they would try to lightning fry me.
Instead, I buy some time masking my mind
tapping out binary bridges of ones and zeroes
with mythic folk and fairytales to educate
my elves who have lost
their pointed ears and no longer hear
the sound of nature’s truth
concealed in their very flesh.

The witch’s hour approaches-
What an unearthly time to be alive,
To open your eyes in fear,
To shut them back into illusion.

In your tired veins, yesterday’s sorrow sneaks through;
Do they burn with numbness?
Does the air caress your venomous pores?

This girl is a witch;
A witch is a saint,
For all the saints have confessed
To having sinned.
Can a god resign?
Can he seek forgiveness?
I hold him in the palm of my hand-
Tired creature,
Old with time,
Dark with worry.
There are no resurrections left to save
What is to be forgotten anyway.

The witch’s hour passes by—
The almighty can be put to rest once more;

Sleep in a mattress of distress,
Slip in oblivious bliss.

I am an average girl.
Ms. "Almost Exceptional,"
One point short,
Just barely missed the cut,
Poor girl.

I give all of my heart,
Yet not enough.
I find almost the perfect fit,
But not quite...
Right.

I am the optimistic pessimist.
The dream-filled cynic.
The cautious adventurer.
I fear the future and the potential
Of hope.

I cling to my desire for love
I wallow in my history of misery.
I want to be by myself
But not alone.
Adored, known,

And unabandoned.

people are nice
i suppose this must be true
people are nice
yet i am never sure why they do
such nasty things, condone acts of silence
hold on to their faith as society is pushed in the ground
maybe i am prejudiced and not able to see
the strength they hold by holding onto their dreams

---

i know the world is ending,
time is happening all at once
i can feel my past in my heart
and the future in my bones
so why does it hurt to think
of the present as the past
why does it ache to know
the future will not last
why does it sting
when the present is happening
when i know in the future
it doesn't really matter

i know i should sleep
but the future doesn't foresee it
and my past doesn't behold it
and my present can't control it
when i tell myself to fold
to fade into the world
i can't let myself go

i know the end is coming
yet i am being pulled in opposite directions
one step into the shadows
one step into the light
one heart on this planet
one far out of sight

I am a boy With a man's desires;
Trapped in the nothingness that is my existence.
Ask no questions,
Tell no lies.
The law of omertà,
The golden leak through the dark clouds.
Truth versus honesty
Genius versus insanity.
The fear of being average versus the fear of the arrogant.
I've fallen,
Once, or maybe thrice.
I've never admitted to doing so
Because men don't like to talk honestly
And putting your business in the public's eyes
Is a crime.
Ridicule becomes the order of the day.
So ahead is the only hand I deal.
Like the stage plays of time past,
What you see is all you'll get.
I am the bronze head,
Age is nothing to me but a few brown patches,
Anew once polished!