It’s a curious thing what a starving man will eat. Not that you would not know what scrupulous fingers pan the earth in desperation.

You walk by near every day, methinks. Too you see him.  Blink once and that boney shell will paint the back of your eyelids. Yet, you look away and dash the eye, leave him standing dark in the corner - the shadows drawing lines across his branded face; the wrinkles of a contorted sorrow.

I don’t blame you, surely, the same way you cannot blame a dim-witted hound for cowering away from the mess it has made. But you put him there, whether you tell yourself you did or not. You did. And I do blame you for that.

I know you remember that first day, with detail I’d wager. The two of you sharing a simple meal taking time as a novelty. A nice night perhaps, but your eyes are what gave you away - what swimming cries for love hid themselves in the crystal waters there held.

Whether you tell yourself he did or not, he saw it. One look like that will spear through a man and pin him to a wall, leaving him to bleed out unless some one can fuel his heart.

He knows what happened, could see through the soft maple skin birthing locks of smooth hair, all of which traced the Evan form up to your smile. But what he did not know was that he was plying with fire. He did not know the bountiful plate in front of him would be his last meal for quite some time.

I’ll let you in on a secret, though - something you’ve been told a hundred times. He loved you because you were perfect. Most would say that, a man rapt by such a feeling will fill in the holes, smooth over the cracks, and apply a fresh coat of paint, but you were different.

You, my dear, were one of those few that embodied what started the ideal of man calls an angel. A broken one in your case; an angel none the less.

But to you it’s like rain drops on your skin - it never seems to sink in, and it’s obvious you go about it that way. You have inside you the purity to crack a man in half and bleed his corruption out. But you don’t seem to realize that, and never will - I’d bet.

To you it’s just rain. and had you looked any closer, you’d have kissed the tears of a dying poet.

Thus far


I coin my faith to love


(That which so binds me to this pole,


Bidding that I press the rocky earth in with perpetual circles)


And toss such currency to faith as it hit’s the gentle waters down a cobblestone well

I watch each delicate thread

Pull away

(Frail twine,
The string of life,
Warn from wash and
Off white)

The plink of one more

Surrender as

One by one

Their little hands

Let go under the pressure

(Too taxing;
Cracked glass
Invasive fissures
Wiggling their way
Downward until
Wrath forces its way
To the surface)

And prepare to lose

(Control
Tumbling upward in a
Bittersweet cone of
Fermented
Nineteenseventyeight
Exquisite wine
Ready to shoot
Straight to the brain
Unraveling the ties,
Letting the pieces fall)

Myself in fragments

Scattered upon the floor

Of who I really am

(or who I never knew
But learned to grow
Apart from.
Caged in my fear
Savagely
Awaiting freedom
So prohibited
;Slavery)

Until I shed my shell

(the painted
Actionfiguretell
Of the mold
I came from.
An assembly line model
Struck in posses
Clothed in garments of
Rejected leisure)

And feel my truenity

(the gentle nature
Peel out
And bloom
Like the dark rose
I’ve seen time and time again
Amidst a lot of pebbles
Waiting so eagerly
To be picked by
The one naïve
Green soul
To let the eye fall
In color
And lick the blood of christ
So tainted
With illusion)

***** the finger

Let the blood run out

Bleed me out

( ailments birthed
of a gentle betrayal
disease my being.
embalmed of any
logic for sense
the salvation of patience is
left by the wayside;
a token for those who
stop to think )

My sanity ridded

Corpse

A poor excuse

For my former self

(falling)

And the scarecrow dreams(




                                                                                


                                                                                                                        
                                                                                                                    to fly.

It’s

Not a token drawn around the neck, but

A

Jewel upon the finger that will forever dream

Sad

Memorys branded into the very tissues; a

Thing

Made to torment the mind until the day comes

When

Our earthly mother calls us.

The

Fruits of our nature dry a bond that's

Only

Broken by the lord himself. My cries, the

Sounds

of Hades in the pounding of my death

Are

scarabs that peel the skin away in

Footsteps

Treading across my soul, leaving scars

Of

Which I may never again love.

The

Thorns grow in craters of damages

One

Has, with no way back; leave

You

Without the means to help and cannot

Love

without something in return.

Walking

out will not chase me

away

I shed tears in the face of my anxiety,

Gentle

Warm

But They do nothing to resuscitate the hardened exterior

Jagged

Cold

I sweep the floor on my way to your feet

Begging

Weeping

Breath to me life I know you can give

Love

Heart

Save my soul that’s in your hand

Withered

Beaten

Naught can but you, my love

Trust

Trust

Can tell what I know you won’t

Lie

String

Only I can do what I’ve never wanted,

Lost

Found

I conceive no fact to life

Down

Deep

My only salvation in your arms

Love

love

So cold it leaves me in the rain

Alone

cold

I bind the chain around my ankle,

Straining

Chaining

And surrender to the depths of your waters

In you

In you I am safe

This gentle face shown through a scratchy glass

Will trick my mind across the bridge to walk

And catch my eye to stop when meant to pass

And leave me sprawled inside a frame of chalk.

The lines that break the sky and draw her smile

And bleed into the grooves and out of sight

Amidst my mind are lost but for a while

And carve a brand new meaning in this light.

I wonder if the glass could be undone

However fright’ning that the truth may be

To bring the gift of truth so better won

And lay my mind to rest as I can see

To look inside and peer upon the gears

Will only go to chisel in my fears.