because the darkness grew
I lied and said you would help me be strong
but the fires in my eyes came down to roost
and now I can't help but sift through your ashes
to find your bones

is there any way to undo
the knots I tied around you
before I lit those flaming words within your soul?

is there escape from the walls I build
to keep me in?
because I don't mean to build them around you too
but somehow I do
and then we're stuck together

and more ashes litter the floor

afterwards.

can I not do this anymore?
or is there something inside me that
claws its way through my eyeballs
to find your soul and **** it bare
and leave it to dry in the night?

is it me?

I wish i knew if I did this to you,
or if it is the night
inside me
flirting with the day to find
a little spark of
demented happiness
in the screams of your eyes
when you look at me for

who I really am.

you know what? I wish I knew who I was
because lost inside the beating of my heart
I think I see a spot of color
but then it's gone and
I don't know anymore

I don't think I ever did.

Because there's so much more
to being me
than burning you.

I just want to find out what that is
because this demon isn't gonna stop
and I kinda wish it would
because I think my soul

is dying

or maybe life is death drawn out in tiny ebbing circles
like a tiny ebbing tide
and the ashes that I make of you
are the tears of last year's bride
condensed and broken into
microscopic
shards
of

fairydust?

i think
beyond all lies
and twists of personal interpretation
there is a final sunset
somewhere

but the only problem is
i think the road to it
is like the rainbow bridge

you can only walk on it if you're a god

but somehow
a vine seems to grow in me
that will clamber the long divide
of space
and let me glimpse
that sunset

if i remember right
the vine is called connection
to a vital nerve in Christ
and by the life inside
it lays a road of many colors
so i can walk the bridge of colors
and see the colors
that the sun makes
just before the end

but it's not sad at all because
i think the end is like an upside-down horizon
and when the sun goes down
at last
it's rising for the last time
and this time,
it's the Son

How beautiful is the sunset
Like the blood that drips down my wrists
Every
Night

Like the great painter has
Decided to paint the sky
The same color as life

How ironic that so many die at night.
How ironic that I never knew blood was so beautiful
Until it dripped from my veins.

As I was walking 'round, one day
My face downcast and grim
I heard a stray conversation
They spoke about HIM.

"Jesus is nothing special, man;
He's just another guy."
Not really , I thought to myself,
He made the earth and sky

Thinking on this brought my face up
Chased away the grim
Why ever should I doubt his might
When He took all my sin?

Only in the understanding
Mind of a poet can you look at someone
Else's poem
Read about
Their
Pain
And think it beautiful.