And I
Was so stuck
On my own
Little
Problems
That I totally
Missed
That you were
Suicidal
Too.

I don't want to close my eyes my love
for when I do I see your soul
illuminated by the sun
transparent, open and loving.
My last memory of you before
you walked out of my life,
before you put up your walls again,
before you shut the door.

I don't want to close my eyes my love
for when I do I see your love
and I feel every emotion I felt
on that perfect day.
Every way you made me feel free
before you forced my heart
to be locked away in this cage.

I don't want to close my eyes my love
for when I do I see you in front of me
so vivid, so real that I reach out
to hold you in my arms again,
to tell you I love you,
but then you disappear
the way you've disappeared from my
life so suddenly.

Closing my eyes used to lift me up into dreams of our future.
Now it crushes me on the cold floor of reality.

Everyone's out to outdo everyone else
It's not even about meaning anymore
It's how much press coverage it gets
Whoever makes them "just" statistics
And there's no fantasy draft yet

Somewhere alone in his dark place
Ruminating his environment
Some bedwetting, fire starting, animal abuser
Infantilized by the hatred of maternal instincts
Projected on him
De-evolved

He likes the way she hurts him
She abuses open hand words
or clenched up fists of embarrassment
It just fuels his homicidal tendencies
His brains on the hate frequency
And he's ready to let the fantasy slip

Home is where the heartless host
absence of emotional ghosts
the boy
the man
the monster

He lost it

Family annihilator,
He took his mother out last
So she'd suffer through
the destruction of the *******
Her wasted wish
of abortion'd children.

This was before the news vans
This was before the first respondents
This was before the society outlash

Back to him alone in a dark place
In the depths of his disturbing mind
He sets higher stakes.

my body:
she sits with me under the cold water of the shower and wipes the tears from the lines under my eyes. she lifts me up and wraps her arms around me. she tucks me into bed at night and wakes me each morning, peeling off the comforter and sheets. she tells me i'll be okay, because my lungs still work and my heart still beats. she loves me when nobody else can.

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

A good place to start would be an introspective analysis of self, but what of the ramifications of objectified manifest? If evil is incarnate then what is the nature of corporeally preternatural? Can we save each other from the truisms of self we all embody, or do we all wallow in the pandemic phatic of our own fatidic as we seek augur's tout. My imagination tells me I can create a personification that has mystical properties but can this be functional garb or is it basically illusion. Can we touch each other, or even ourselves with these extrapolations? So many of us live by this platonic proxy photic aimed humanitarian instinct, maybe the reason we don't seem to succeed is because we need to be bad to be good. Further some of us are so bad that we obviously don't deserve to live but are those of us so inclined doomed to die of the ramifications thereof? And will this malady be a contagious virulence for all? Were it not for the astonishingly astounding and incredible nature of life itself I would almost be forced to abjure the nature of metaphysics on a corporeal level. Fortunately for me the answer is much more simple, I need someone to make love to, or **** if you will. I believe in retrospect this is obviously clear! Forgive my blither.