Welcome to
this house
so long
so desolate,
no air
nor life
breathed for
so many years.

The way
to and from
seems so far
from an actual world.

Dust and cracks
abound collecting
as the spiders
desperate for prey.

No sounds
only chills
as winter remains
trapped
even within
the outward time
and ways
of summer.

The entrance is
vacant,
the past is
lost,
time here is
trapped.

A relationship's ultimate prospect
is a part of a greater whole.

A single's life, however,
yields the promise of individual freedom.

There's no other path
that this gravity will take

Supplanting
my air, my breath
as every sense drowns
within a distorted atmosphere

The walls
rise on and up
As I feel this weight
wiring to my mind

Fuses so short
I never notice the sparks
until the last one pinches
and scatters the emotions within
my now-broken shell.

What's up is the sky
and I'm up for the stars
and down for a cave expedition.

I'm game for a used copy
since time is literally killing me
while I got pizza in one hand
and an energy drink in the other
so the tree that is my life goes
chop chop chop.

The only chip on my shoulder
is a potato chip
because I got a dozen for every dime I spent,
which is a drop in the bucket of change
I'm saving for Coinstar.

My son Jack has made many trades,
from CDs to movies to videogames to trading cards
and he just so happens to be a Pokemon master, thank you very much.

Resisting a piece of cake
is no piece of cake,
even when the recipe
--complete with a photogenic picture--
is comprised of over a thousand words.
Don't cheat on your diet,
the spinach is always watching
and that Rolex will feel so tight
you'll be praying for thousands
of slaps on both wrists.

When things get hot
you can bang against a clock
to see how long you last.
Just don't crack 'em up too much,
clocks are fragile devices.

My motor's a Cobia
yours is an Evinrude
but otherwise we're in the same boat.

Whenever I fail I don't go to the drawing board,
I get out my scrap book.
I prefer its texture and it is,
truly,
the first square.

When my frustration becomes too much
I might have to beat the bush instead,
after all
it can't be a sightseer forever.

Don't throw me a bone,
I'm not dog,
merely a curious cat
still on his seventh life.

I'd rather be close
than be stuck with a cigar--
smoking's bad and I hate the smells.
If I'm left with nothing, I'll cry like a wolf.
Wolves are hunters, wolves are survivors.

I don't want cruelty
I don't want pain without purpose
I don't want my eyes to water from a heart left dry

I don't crave some deliberate infliction
I don't long for hidden scars that never heal

I don't search for loaded words
I don't prepare for harmful intentions
I don't seek a path that pushes me underground

I don't look for confusion
I don't desire confined spaces
I don't enjoy advantage at another's disadvantage
And I don't give out points to those who play with dishonesty

Secrets once known
Secrets still unknown
Secrets forgotten

Inside is the youth
Inside is a struggle

Feelings of innocence
Thoughts of guilt

Old warmth dissipates
beneath a newfound shell.
Obsidian frost.

Mystery without clues
Mystery with no answer
Mystery with myself

Questions and doubt
only strengthen what contains
my dwindling flare.

Home once my solace
Home my haven
away from tranquility.

The growing cold stings
my heart
suffocating
my sense.

Extinguish the flame,
for one is contagious
and many are
dangerous.

Welcome the dead desire
Welcome the surrender
Welcome a reminder

Sensation awakens
when the ice melts
before rekindled flames.

When speaking
of intimate prospects
please
don't put the impossible
scenarios into my head.  

I do enough of that
myself.