It’s a fickle thing.
Time…

A golden glass,
Held in place by a string.
Time…

A calculation that is too
Quick to pass.
Time…

One lost it cannot be regained,
It’s all to true.
Time…

It is something that cannot be restrained.
So don’t spare seconds, minutes, and hours to waste.
Time…

Quickly now we must make haste,
There is no time to spare.
Lest we find it’s a waste.
Not other aspect can compare.

Crying out loud
******* inside
Hearing my own sound
Sanity denied

True calling made sane
Foreseeing others brutal fate
Now it’s me
True calling to be

Shrouded in white
Within a blackened haze
Only bits and pieces
Will remain

Slowly going mad
Life slipping away
Blood coming back
And I think its
Here to stay

I’m flying in the light
I swallow my pain and fear,
As I hear angels and devils fight
I can shed only a single tear.
Entrancing ghosts circle the air,
The feeling of terror is waning,
The virginal silence starts to tear,
The one tear I shed, is staining.
Words in the air, the quiet is going.
Colorful vapors hover over the path.
Sticky life, hangs on to the crying spirits.
Once more, I feel Gods wrath,
And hear his cherubs haunting lyrics.
Oh Jesus! God’s queen is sweet.
Strangely, it’s peaceful behind the light.
I must now bow down and kiss her feet.
I can only help myself in heavens plight.
Red bugs ooze from crystalline water.
I stomp on them with my shoes.
She gazes, knowing no one can stop her.
For me, this is surely not good news.
An angel’s child I am to bear.
Awaken! The birthing is hard.
This one child I cannot love, I swear.
From now on, I cannot fault my guard.
Deaths life is unafraid,
But I know that his love for me is hesitant.
This life of death I have made,
But my lover’s fury is notoriously unpleasant.
My chance to flee across the river Styx,
It finally arrives, just on time.
A bribe to the rower is my quick fix.
I tell my beautiful evil child everything is fine.
But then I can throw her off the boat,
And tell her that her next life will be better.
I know it’s over when her curls cease to float.
My last words to her, were that of my last only love,
To tell her that if God had a better plan,
He had better start working hard up above.
I have relinquished his holey wingspan.
But now with who can I seek my final shelter.
For a price of passion I can take a final board.
This mans love is enough to make life swelter.
But I know I can end it all again, with this rope and cord.

I want to be remembered by a complete stranger, because I did something randomly and significantly that he or she witnessed or was a part of.

I want to be the person whose shoulder people know they can cry on.

I want to be somebody who made a difference in some other persons life.

I want to be the person who laughs everyday.

I want to be a blessing.

I want to be a leader.

I want to be remembered.

I want to be defined as a good, unusual, and unique person.

I want to be remembered for starting a movement that affects a lot of people in a positive way.

I want be recognized for my intelligence, among other things in relation to that.

I want to be the person that people come to for answers.

I want to be the person that someone can truly rely on.

I want to be 5'9".

I want to be irreplaceable.

There are many things that people 'want'. Money, jobs, a home, lovers, life, possessions, miracles. In this case I would say that only 50% at most would get what they wanted. But when you want something that requires a little thought or material effort on you're part...well that's when things that you want to happen start happening. Only you can change you. Only you can make a difference in that department. Respect it. It is one of the few things in life that you have absolute and awe inspiring power over.

Touch her here,
Touch her there,
She wants to be touched everywhere.

Slow and passionate,
Or fast with your heart in it.
Either way, you must stick with it.

You could be on top like a dove,
Or she could be the one above.
All these are ways of making love.

She wears a mask,
To hide within herself.
There is no need to ask,
For everyone ignores her cry for help.

All the hatred inside,
Locked in bond with the loss.
Only singing emotion can abide.
No one can see her tears gloss.

The mask says “Hello!”
Here eyes say goodbye,
Nothing is what the mask shows.
Because deep inside, she cries.

“Is there anyone out there,
That is anything like me?”
But thru the mask, no one could hear.
She was all she could ever be.

The mask won't come off,
No matter how hard she tries.
Surveyors will laugh and scoff.
But the true story is in her eyes.

Sooner or later, you will see,
The loneliness hidden behind the mask,
Everyone seems so happy,
And my dear, this is no easy task.

“Why can’t I be like that?”
She tries to call for help,
But to them she is only a number stat.
Or a worthless, depressed whelp.

She sees no one who looks like her,
On her knees she asks,
Why she is this way forever.
But her only reply was a roomful of masks.

The old house groans
The old house moans
It moves, it creaks
What new leaks will we expect this week?

The lady in white says…
“This house is alive.”

The attic breathes
The basement feeds
The kitchen dines
The old staircase whines.

The lady in white says…
“This house lives.”

The windows are crying
The doors are scrying
The floors walk
And the ceilings talk.

The lady in white says…
“This house is your soul.”