Never know

how much I need until
I get just what I want

And I never know what
I want until it's
already gone

Never knew that
it was you
til you knocked on
my door

Had no idea
Didn't have a clue
that it was you I was
looking for

Then before I realized
what had happened
You had disappeared

Now what a shame
What a cryin' shame
for me to realize
so late

But that is fate
Baby that is fate
that's how it plays your game

Options
for the beggar
that hath seen no
light
Takes what she pleases
and finds delight

Hath not the beggar seen
her fatal flaw?

The beggar is but a beggar and
not pleased at all.

For if the beggar were to see
that her situation is but irony,
She then doth partake in sentiment
whose cracked joke is eminent.

Never fear for the dear beggar
is near and does not realize her folly
She trips and skins her broken knees
yet does not board the trolley.

For the trolley will take her away to see
What she has so fatally lacked
the experience she needs to grow
and grow a bone in her back.

Sharp angles

pause for the greater effect
of the picture being portrayed
by the puppets who ensue
the damage

Jagged lines
lay still and juxtapose
the sharp angles
in an entangled
bounty of emotional
mess

Arches
sweep across
bridging the destruction
with the emotion and
create meaning
while

Color
brushes itself along
adding a dimention of
clarity and purpose

Circles
which are there for
no reason at all
do not even realize
they are a part of the picture
but pretend that they too
contribute

Texture
pops the colors and the lines
and gives them a realistic
tone and quality

People
who look upon them
do not see the beauty
or the grandeur
or the time
or the raw emotion
or the painstaking amount of work
or the love
or the hatred

They see sharp angles, jagged lines, arches, color, circles and texture out of context
with the world they see,
and so: they see nothing.

Twirling on an oil slicked floor


Faster
Faster

Never stopping to see for sure

Faster
Faster

If what you want is the cure

Faster
Faster

For your pulsing heart
Faster Faster
Growing close
FasterFaster


STOP


as you slip
and your feet
are no longer
beneath you
and in slow motion face the ground
beneath you
and it swallows you up
the darkness intruding
on your vision
closing in
on your dreams
as you slip
past the incongruities
of destiny and fate
of love and lust
of passion and gentleness
and all
Is Still.

The pain that pricked
me so curiously...

Not an aching or a throb
but an all out assault
on my stomach
a nagging
a stab

An insistent ****
in my side
the side I cling to
when the pain is too much

The side you laid your hand on
to tell me it was going to be
okay

But 'okay' only suffices
for the mind
and does not ease the pain
caused by this thorn
in my side.

Its slippery surface denies me
the ability to pull it out,
and I have not the resources
or the will to remove it.

Somehow I've become accustomed
to this stabbing, unsettling sensation
and as a developing *******,
It seems that I like it there.

Like a friend when no one
is there to listen
the thorn is still at my side

Willing to listen
as it buries itself deeper
for a long chat

As a beloved growth
now a part of myself
if I ripped it out,
I too would perish.

Therefore, it lives with me,
in my side,
along side me
aiding me with grief
and providing a
bit of its own.

Take my hand but
Don't hold on
Let me hug you
But push me away

As
Dangerous as
an Intoxicating Drug
Smoldering in your soul

As your emotions
burn into stone
Etching a permanant
scar into your sleeve

As you wear your
heartache on your sleeve
With a burn hole and a scar
that empty spot that once was full
Will be replaced with nothing

Because I'm saving you from myself
I cannot comfort your pain
Because I am what the hurt consists of
I am the root of your heart's torture

You may not see it
But it is as clear as day
that I must save you from myself
so that you might heal

So that you might live
to find yourself anew,
Create a better life
loving someone else

For I am a poision that will
Rot you with sweetness
**** you with care
Martyring myself for
your relief

And the only way to detach your
dependence on me
is for me
to
disappear

The area between clarity and
Indecision
Is where my mind always tends to stay

As it creeps into this colorless
Vision
Time melts and one night can turn into days

Grey Gray Grey
Bleeds into the fabric of my mind
Dying everything its bland yet putrid color

Ambiguous gestures
and a fleeting glance
Wrap their fingers 'round my neck
and they smother
Creativity, Life, Solitide
Noise Noise Noise
Blocking my creative release

As the muttled disposition
that my body defaults to
displays a disgruntled
shoe salesman
No one guesses at,
Knows what I go through
No one reads past the grey

Dissolution and no one
can see the clarity
In a cup of water with
stirred in dirt

The dirt keeps on swirling
and refuses to settle
To see the pearl
in the bottom of the glass
becomes impossible

The little pearl of hope
its white irradescent
luminescence
That reflects everything in
a milky white silk gaze

But no one can see it
past the grey gray muck
of muddled inquisition
of a muttered note of
agreeableness