let me crack open your already fractured skull,
and clean up the mess inside
these nimble fingers of mine
ache to be laced within yours
and i let me tear
the pages of a broken childhood
from your family photo albums
so we can write a new story
of kissing all the boo boos
and searching for the monsters under your bed
we can take the flashlights
out behind the rows of pine trees at night
and let me make shadow puppets of a life reimagined  
there's a breeze that flows
through the familiarity of this feeling
you can find it in the kitchen sink,
this shattered old bathroom mirror,
and a living room that never really felt alive
they don't matter anymore
and it's as if you never even lived here at all
and the boy stands in front of me
in the shadows of a second life
with a fractured skull and menthol breath
stringed with words that roll off his tongue
like barbed wire
because you don't even know yourself
and you're a fighting for a chance
at a life worth living
but these things will pass -
in and out of a melancholy mind of yours
while i remain on the bedroom floor
of the house you spent years trying to escape
cleaning up the mess inside your head

i'm just feeling a little
indifferent
at this profound amount of
ambivalence
but i swear love you so much it's completely
ridiculous
it's like time slows down and then i become
limitless

Life is not hateful. Nature is.

A person can't make It happen so
he acts as a shark and moves without remorse, though
a mere ten second's contemplation
and emotional, intellectual understanding
of the things he, without sorrow, ignites in his wake,
would be enough to force his hand to
tie that well deserved noose and slip it around
his slimy neck and hang himself dead.
He, much like a snake, is deaf to the
screams of those he has bitten, and blind
to the ruin behind him. His one track mind -
his selfish mind - which blocks out all that his nature doesn't wish
for him
to acknowledge - does
for him
what is convenient
for him.
Eliminates the reality
for him.
That is his nature's wish.