The World above,
The World below,
The space between filled with passing existence.
Forever fading in and out,
Like sparks from a fire
Fireflies in the mist.

She
refuses
To reside
Inside
anyone’s
Solace
Especially
her own
She’s a
rare rose
With
the thorns
Still attached
She walks
a fine line
Somewhere
Along the line
Between pain
And fine wine
She always
found the time
And
Courage
To shine

These hands...
Cast of clay.

Had basked in the sun.
Deepened lines marked their faces
and enlarged cracks marred their backs.

Rough and matured.
They spoke the language of old
and hid the ancient ruins of the past.

Held together.
Side by side,
they clenched the fantastical ideals of today.

However,
uncertain and pulled apart...
The future just falls away - a ghost.
A mirage that eludes grasp and capture.

I Don't live in pain
this pain takes refuge in me
it wants to live too
so i let it stay..

The pioneer searches and searches, result or none,
Looking for that price filled one,
Everyone he knows comes second,
Those he lives with, loves, worth less he reckons,
Than that golden gold, and the warmth it gives

At last, he finds her in plain sight,
He coaxes her to be his, with gentle words,
She’s softer than the others, yet bright,
Brighter than he deserves,
In his hand, she’s heavier than he figured

Quickly enamored, soon obsessed,
He can’t let go, she’s the best
He won’t give her up, not for bread or butter,
He can’t think of a minute gone by without her,
But gold is what many desire

He tightens his grip, trusts no one to touch her,
So paranoid that he doubts even her,
He begins to stare deep within her shine,
And makes a discovery that shakes his spine,
The gold was never his, but actually another fools’

death is a loaded gun
with
a
whiskey smile