Monsters are real.
But they don't live in our closets, or under our beds.
They live inside of us.
Sometimes they win.
Don't let your monsters win.

It was so
on that winter morning
that all the grass
and plants were still,
frozen in place by
the cold chill that rested
on our fingertips
and lashes
it was so
on that winter morning
that when you exhaled
the words
‘I don’t love you
anymore’
into the space
between us they
were accompanied by
a reinforcing cloud
of steam
and i could not fathom
how words that cold
could have been warmer
than the air
around us.

His Down's Syndrome makes
His age a tough guess, I'll
Say eight to ten.

Wide eyes on machines,
Ice cream dripping on the
Pavement outside the

Construction site.
I wanna work like this when
I grow up, he says in

Young enthusiasm to a mother
Whose eyes well up with
Gratitude when I approach

And kneel down in front of
Him. So you want a job,
Buddy? I ask him with a

Wink. He suddenly remembers
His ice cream and bites into
It shyly. Nods, glancing at the

Tools in my belt, the scratches
On my arms, the brick wall
I've been attacking with a

Wacker jackhammer. Nods
Again. Well, I'll see you in a
Few years, I say with another

Wink, this time to his mother,
Who'd look her young age if
Her eyes weren't as tired,

But you can start with this
And get some practice. I hand
Him my Stanley Fat Max

Hammer. His ice cream
Hits the ground as he
Recieves it with both hands,

Looking to his mother for
Confirmation that it's ok.
Oh, it is. She mouths a

Thank you SO much...
They walk away, his chatter
High pitched and fading

Around the corner. And I
Head over to the foreman to
Report that I lost my hammer.

Don't ever employ me.
I can work a good game, but
I'm too soft around little heroes.

How many men make or brake the barriers?
How many more move forward as the carriers
of the message? The presage of the black dark future.
When society is wounded who'll be dressing the sutures?  

Those in suits blur truth across the canvas,
Then paint over it with blood from the youth and the savages.
Ravaging for innocent civilians, to apply the bandages.
While the man in the suit counts the loot as he micro manages.

Feed them Faceless,  Tasteless  food for thought.
Get them Pacing laceless- racing to be caught
red handed, then remanded in custody to rot
in a cell, dwelling on how poorly they fought.  

Not to quick to mention their desire for redemption.
The lesson is learned until it's consumed your whole attention
span, quick make a plan- confessing that you're a bad man
Don't change the fact that you were sweating as you ran man.

Who's this man? Who's lurking in the shadows?
The search narrows- he's found hanging from the gallows.  
This harrows the whole world for a whirlwind minute.
Until the media man has had enough chance to spin it.

"He was a reprehensible, dispensable shell of  human.
His soul had creeped out after years of consuming
peoples fears, then blaring it back into their ears.
He was mole for manics, spreading panic to the assuming"

My brains trailing yesterday around.
Fragmented thoughts seem soft till they pound.
Carve the shape of monday out just to scare-
Then Retreat into the comfort of another day spare.

Sunday, sings softly when your sitting on the day before
But the counter price is costly when you push through
Mondays door.
Even if you steal tomorrow from today-  Monday you’ll always pay.

Hell of a hole you've dug here.
Forty feet deep you could scream and no on'ed hear.

"Well I thought it would keep us safe,
at least until the coast was clear.

"Well I'm confused what you think this is"

A black voice behind us sneered.

" It ain't no safe detention it's a God forsaken fear.
The kind
that steals your breath just to whisper it back in your ear "

NOW what the hells going on?
My friend who do we hear?

"I've spoken with him before when he isn't right he's still sincere.
And he's been with us this whole way, growing with the years."