There is so much pain
in this world
the monster on the corner
looking at the girl.

People hate
and scratch each other
breaking hearts
killing mothers

So why do I feel my pain
so great?
I met a woman
a great woman, so great

She tore my heart
from my chest
left me there
a shell at best

With so much pain
why is mine so great?
Others have died,
I just feel like I might.

I cover my heart
in a layer of steel
so that the things she has said
I cannot feel

It makes it harder to push
the blood through my veins
but we can grow a little
learning from the pain

Your heart will grow stronger
in its little steel cage
keeping you centered
letting go of the rage

When your mind is healed
and your body has calmed
You'll notice the cold steel on your heart
is now in your palm.

Its 3am
Once again
In Buffalo
New York

Her doors squeak
and her floors creek
And my heart
Feels the pain

She tells me little
I tell her lots
My minds on love
Hers is not

The cats meow
At the winds howl
And tomorrow
Brings more hell

I want her deeply
I want her as mine
I move forward
She falls behind

I stare at the cord
connected to the wall
and think about the reason
I continue at all.

The friends I never
and the ones
I thought
I do,

The people at
arms length
that I wish I never
knew.

It's hard for me to swallow
the single serving friends
and to know that again tomorrow
they'll make friends again.

It used to be
that I would see
you inside my dreams.
My eyes were closed
and you were there
how I wanted you to be.
My eyes wide open
you were there
looking back
with love
for me.

Now the only way
to see your face
is to return to my dreams.

My eyes wide open
all I see
is what is left
of me.

With more knowledge and
understanding.
Comes more compassion and
pain.
It is our flaw and our
power.
We love and we
hate.

I wish I could go
numb,
to rid of this feeling of
being
so
human.

I want to go home
and sit
looking out the window
at the dark street
and the lonely lamp light.

Few people pass by
eyes forward
or to the ground.
I wonder if they feel
alone.

They are my friends,
I think.
But they don't know my
name, or even that
I am here.

They are my friends
though.
Woman in the purple jacket,
man in the black hat,
walking down my street.

I pretend to know them
and take two sips of beer.
One for me and
one for them.
I call the man Jack.

I'm successful enough
to have decent clothes
to rescue a dog
to have a place
to sleep

A decent enough car
and a garage for it
and a sink
and a fridge
and beer

A woman's love
Is what I miss
Is what I want
Is what I wish
I had

The pain I feel
from loneliness
from loving you
from behind the pane of
glass

Have you ever just
laid
on the floor,
staring
at the ceiling?

No thoughts, not a single
movement.
Unable to do anything but
lay
there?

There are screws to turn,
and the dishes pile
up-
and the things you need to do
remain.

Eyes hurt and your cheeks
too,
and the back of your throat
feels like
gravel

and
you
just
lay
there

Another day.
Another ****
day.
Go here,
do this,
get that.

Go home,
eat dinner,
pet the dog,
scratch the cat.

The pain
is in
between.

Between the this and
the that.
The darkness comes,
and takes everything
back.

Breathing in,
and letting go.
My breath fogs up the window.

A lone stick man,
drawn inside.
No one else at his side.

A child smiles,
beyond the glass.
My gaze here cannot last.

The cold air,
oh how it burns.
I long to be eaten by the worms.

I cried today,
at work,
in the bathroom,
alone.

I left early.
The thoughts,
the sorrow,
the pain.

I bawled in my car
silently,
as soon as I shut
the door.

The engine kicks,
and you
move
on.

The lion in the mist,
in the morning sun,
lurking.
His eyes see you
more than flesh,
and without sound.
He SEES you.
your soul and...
your intention.
And he sits
and he waits
and he waves his tail,
as you wander
through
his realm.
He knows the lost,
the feel,
the cry.
He had once been
the wanderer
just like you.

There are some things
that the world does not
tell you.

Like how most are
idiots, *******, and drunks.
That - you figure out
along the way.

Or that the things
you want most,
you cannot have.
And you live in
this world,
and so do they.
And they spit
and ****
and drink
and that -
you figure out
along the way.

I'm so alone,
and the people
don't help.
The bottles drop
and the phone rings
and the walls say
nothing.
And the people
they drink,
and the smokers
they spit,
and they leave
their dogs on the
stoop.
It doesn't change,
it all stays exactly
as it is.
They look, they stare
and wonder about
him!
Him in the chair
by the bar
drinking.
Alone.

Whipping by my window
making little sounds;
wondering,
where does all the
love go.

It goes with you,
my wind
I say.

It goes with you
and stays with you
all day.

And at night,
when the wind
has gone
it drops this love
where it does not
belong.

There are those songs,
the ones
that you hear
on the radio
or on a friend's
music player.
That do something
to you.
You feel a bit different
while you listen.
You may not be sure
what is happening,
but it is,
and by the end
you've changed.

You can feel it,
when it happens.
The strings,
they start to snap
and you begin to fall
from who you used
to be-
And closer to who
you've become.

They don't call you crazy,
not at first.
But they think it,
and you know it's true.
What they don't know
is that those who are
crazy,
don't care.
Don't care,
don't care.

The fog of sleep
envelops me,
and tries to take
me away.

It slows the
heart,
and closes the
eyes
and releases the
thinking brain.

Unless, of course
you wake before
prescribed.
Then your sleep
becomes nothing more
than a disease that passes
time.

It's in the deep
dark places
that you
will find me.

Where there is no
love,
where there is no
hate,
where there just
is.

Nobody left of me.
Nobody right.
Just vast nothingness,
like a midnight
playing field
without the stadium,
without the lights.

It's not hard
to imagine
a heart of ICE.
Or a mind gone
numb.

Where there is
nothing,
nowhere,
No one.

I hope that when
Judgement comes
(If you believe in such
a thing).
That the one who judges,
looks at me,
with a scowl and says
Rejected-

What am I to do
when the dog
has no
day?

Where am I to go
when the hills
are too far
away?

Who shall I seek
when good has gone,
and so has
evil?

I'm just really no good
at this game
called
people.

It's 3AM
and I'm up again
listening to the
rushing breeze.

My head hurts
and my stomach
gargles,
And the wind
continues to
sing.

It's lonely here,
at 3am:
No creaking floor
or shutting door
or faucet with a
handle turned.

Just me here,
hungry-
listening to the
breeze.