***** and ***** are
tragedies of Greek
proportion.
Take a man with
potential and then
give him a steady
dose of either (or both)
withdraw it,
and watch him
degenerate.

It’s not the *** act
or
the alcohol its self,
it’s the effect they
produce on
one’s psyche.
We will always
equate that which we
feel emotionally
with absolute
truth.

If one has given
himself completely
(with abandon)
to either pursuit,
when removed,
there will be
a vacuum
a gaping
hole that without an
act from the
gods,
will never be
filled

What difference does it make?
I'm already condemned.
There isn't a person in
this God-forsaken town
that hasn't tried me in
their mind and found me guilty.
Step mothers aren't real
mothers anyway.
My mother died when I was little.
Daddy remarried and couldn't have
cared less about me and Emma,
my dear sister, and the ax sharpener.
I was acquitted, and who can
judge me now?
By the way, the weapon was never
found, it's buried by my feeble
attempt at poetry.

If only you possessed
The power
To see

All that you are and
All that you’ll
Be

Tell me, what is sight
Without the sense of
Perception?

What good is imagination
Without any
Invention?

Thus, hold onto your hopes
For glorious days
Lay ahead

One cannot follow
Dreams that are
Dead

And do not think
Your vast visions
To be foolish

For many wondrous things
Did begin with
A wish...