One becomes
two. becomes
three, becomes
Us.

He’s pretty, he  gleams like the fresh morning dew;
Often I picture myself waking up next to you.
But vines they invade those beautiful dreams;
Piercing my thoughts with thorns oh so sharp.
Because under that rose tinted facade,
Rests the roots of this bush, warped, gnarled, and odd.
So I guess what I mean to say;
But not in a mean way;
This rosebush needs pruning, my babe.

As my body steeps,
Bones infuse,
Organs dissolve;
All I can do is hope
That I’ll add something
To this cocktail of greed.

I feel the strings attached to my limbs;
Begging, pleading for me to give in.
“You’ll feel better if you give in”
They whisper in my ears, much to my chagrin.
But maybe when their judgment comes
At the hand of the one above;
I will be freed.

But there is no one above
No pretty partridge;
No savior dove
To be free would be to die
So for now I guess I’ll just sit and
Cry.

When they tug my strings
I move to their dance.
And if they force me down
I’ll kick I’ll struggle
Like a fly in their web,
And just like the spider
They’ll eat me alive
Because

With no one above,
In the gleaming temple
Lies a cold dead dove
Killed by the hands
That puppeteer my strings.

But to be free would be to die,
So again I sit here and cry.

When you scream into the void,
Does the void scream back?
No.
But the masses will.

Why do you run,
Dear?
I love you,
Please don’t fear.
I’ll take this knife
To your ribs;
Slice open your chest
Toy with your life.
If you would just love me
Maybe I’d play a bit nicer;
But right now I’ll sear your flesh
With my favorite BIC™ lighter.