The light dims and the dead raise their glasses
To the wine of wasted, blood-streaked tears
That permeate my mind. I lift my hand and reach
For them, but I am left with dripping dark
As the spirits of my dead emotions seek release.

As freelance feelings take their leave, am I human?
The thought of thatching shattered glasses
Brings back the dead, their forming tears
Mysteriously absent. And so they reach
The clammy, clotted, ****** hands through dark
Eyes; I scream that they might release.

But will the cold hands pity, and me release?
The light has fled the black irises: inhuman
Fusion of animation and empty glasses
In their eyes, like mine. Dry, lacking tears
That life gives. She bustles in the kitchen, reaches
For the saffron. But their souls remain dark.

And my sorrowing saffron soul is poisoned dark.
Let me go! I sigh release.
I am not human.
I am broken glass.
A fading fear of tears,
A soul outside my reach.

I am no fool; I do not claim to reach
Outside the world of dreaded dark
In which I live without release.
The creeping hands of Death are human,
As I am. Cast aside my riveting rose glasses
That rivers may run swift in my trailing tears.

Finally, the tears.
My own icy hand does reach
And wipes away the shifting dark.
The dead, as always, seek the just release,
But they are not human.
They do not wear my eyes, my glasses.

So raise the glass to my trying tears,
I reach and find no dark.
My feeling now released, I say that I am human.

Wouldst thou hear what man can say
In a little? Reader, stay.
Underneath this stone doth lie
As much beauty as could die;
Which in life did harbor give
To more virtue than doth live.

If at all she had a fault,
Leave it buried in this vault.
One name was Elizabeth,
Th' other let it sleep with death;
Fitter, where it died to tell,
Than that it lived at all. Farewell.

I shot an arrow into the sky
aimed at a fleeting invincibility
that only the acidic youth and dopamine fiends
can pierce with bitter tongues.
Freedom for the burdened
with shots among the blue
to lasso the sun that burns our eyes
and removes the shadows we know.
If you are afraid--crooked mind--
that's the allure.
I, too, have loved my demons
but they will pick my brain no longer.

in the dream i float naked at the sun
waxing and waning fractal plasma whorls
exposing and hiding scope like
complexities in a loved eye
rushing photons scraping
blasting perfections imperfections
i'm so sorry
memories banished on solar wind
where they can finally die
horrible versions of myself
driven insane from constant performances
of sensationalized sins
i carried as penance to no one,
expire as impossible sighs in a vacuum
forgotten
as freed cleansed me pulls forward
on a sunlight tether smiling sobbing
molten tears universes tumbling  
constituent particles scoured away
dipping my head into a roiling hydrogen ocean
to hear ultraviolet symphonies play how forgiveness sounds