Begging to have our eyes opened
we spend our days prayin or smokin
Sayin wer'e looking for something higher, higher

We walk on solid ground just as timidly
as the ripples  rippledthrough the Galilean sea
broke scared
broke scared around peter and Jesus' feet

write deep music deep music  
but we won't ever sing it in public
because we're afraid that we'll find
that when it hits the ears of the audience
it won't be worth the words we spent

the truth is

we look for
the Sermon in the suicide -
moral in the ****** of five

the truth is, the truth is
sometimes it's hard to find

Begging to have our eyes opened
we spend our days prayin or smokin
Sayin wer'e looking for something higher, higher

We walk on solid ground just as timidly
as the ripples  rippledthrough the Galilean sea
broke scared
broke scared around peter and Jesus' feet

write deep music deep music  
but we won't ever sing it in public
because we're afraid that we'll find
that when it hits the ears of the audience
it won't be worth the words we spent

the truth is

we look for
the Sermon in the suicide -
moral in the ****** of five

the truth is, the truth is
sometimes it's hard to find

Kids with guns
playing hostage outside
my kitchen window
trapping their sister in the chicken coop
behind the tenement house

Kids with funds
riding scholarships to Harvard
saying someday I’ll be the one
who pushes that little red button

Kids with needles
saying at the end of all this
I will wine and dine the devil
to persist my own mess
they go off so silently

we all turn to memory
and fade to the black flickering
insides of eyelids and run out film reels
the bottom of oceans and the bedrock of glaciers
the whole earth will hum for half a second
before the next bang hits

Strong Jaws Jar My Heart,
One's Of Demons--Slowly Tearing Me Apart,
The Sound Of The Rip,
And The Sight Of Blood Drip,
Does Not Bother Me--No,
I Start To Cross That Lonely Road,
And The Memories Start To Flow,
My Attention Is Not On My Own,
                        Fate,
I'm Upset You Still Live There,
Not In This City--But In My Head,
You Just Wanted To Put To Bed,
Your Diseres--Twisted That Must Be,
Do You Even Think Of Me?
I No Longer Care--I'm Part Of A New Pair,
And I Will Avoid Your Sister's Stone Stare,
Though Within--I'm Still Picking Up The Pieces

I hate you.
I hate that I think about you
I hate that you don't think about me.
I hate that little things remind me of you
I hate that you forgot about me.
I hate that I talk about you
I hate that I cry about you
I hate that I still care about you
I hate that you ignore me.
I hate that I know you use me
I hate that I let you use me.
I hate that your still on my mind
I hate seeing pictures of you
I hate hearing about you
I hate being interested in what you do.
I hate texting you
I hate that you don't respond.
I hate thinking about you every day
I hate the disappointment you bring
I hate the sadness I feel.
I hate that I can't have you
I hate that I can't get away from you
I hate that I don't try to.

A mother of two
When you arrived I already knew
I would not meet you face to face on this earths crust
Only after my body has been turned to dust
I do not know if you were a boy or a girl
If your hair would be straight or if it would curl
I knew that you were real and very much alive
With every morning sickness that made me want to die
You lived for an estimated 7 weeks
But I only knew you for one
I cried like I never have
More than when I lost my own dad
I begged for forgiveness to my heavenly Father
For killing my son or my daughter
For ripping your seed out of its soil
A seed I knew Id spoil
I cried in my bed with my head in my pillow
I had cried more than a weeping willow
I was asleep when you had exited my womb
Waking up in the recovery room
I was barely awake, still sedated
No longer on this earth, myself I hated
Not wanting be in that clinic, forcing myself up I stumbled out
Driving home all I did was shout
Screaming, crying, the feeling of dying
Vomiting on my front door
Feeling my empty womb to its core
You were gone, no more
I can never bring you back or say sorry enough
Doing what it did wasnt easy but tough
I didnt do it because I wouldnt love you
Only because I already had two
What I did was wrong and I know I am a sinner
You were sent to the womb of a killer


*For those of you who read my poem "I am a Killer", this is what I was talking about. I wasnt ready to share it completely.