1923,
leather cover,
French poetry.

My wooden guitar,
it's rather bland,
so I'll paint a picture
of the stars.

The air,
it smelled odd.
Like whiskey and copper,
cigarettes and petrichor,
but where do these aromas
come from?

Once it has lived
a fulfilling life,
the spider plant let's it's children
hang elegant from her arms.
They don't let go,
never,
until someone takes her children
from her.

A cactus sits,
prickly,
in the tattooed
clay ***.

The river lies,
but it is kind.
It will carry you swiftly,
carefully,
peacefully,
before submerging you
into utter chaos.

Liar,
Liar,
heart on fire
hanging
from a noose
of wire.

You said you would never forget me,
but I'll never forget that lie.

You threatened me,
you said you'd rip out my heart,
but you'll be devastated to hear
that I'm sure I don't have one.

I'm out of breath
trying to chase you,
but now you've left
like you were supposed to.

I'll mourn in pain
and sob and grieve,
but maybe again
we may meet.

You used to ask me
why I wore shades indoors,
and I never told you
I wouldn't, I couldn't.

But now that you've left,
I suppose I can say;
I wouldn't, I couldn't
let anyone see the truth
in the mirth of my eyes;
The sorrow they held
so desperately;
The tears and cries,
the skeletons and lies;
I couldn't let them see
what hurt me.

You asked me to be there
and I didn't want to,
but now I am here
after all I've put you through.

I loved you before,
never her,
but I suppose you'd want more,
you'd want to be sure.

The crow stood tall
on the brick wall,
it watched me cry
it watched me fall.
All the corpses,
all the pain,
I'd never see life,
never again.

Hope is the only thing
stronger than fear,
but the only thing stronger than hope
is doubt.

You really gave me hope,
just a glimpse,
but then I opened my eyes
and realized it was lies.

Can I trust you?

No, nevermind,
what an absurd question,
wasn't it?

Of course not.

We're all human here,
right?

Then I obviously cannot!

Humans are greedy,
and always hide something
whether it's yours
or theirs.

Your lies are thick
like molasses, you know,
like honey or syrup.
Sweet,
too sweet to be real.
And yet,
you let them fall out of your mouth
like a running faucet,
it's so easy for you
to lie.

you're far too sweet;
it makes me sick.

I could tell you one big truth
- I love you -
before an even bigger lie.

I could tell you one devastating lie
- I will stay -
before an even more devastating truth.

Isn't it?
I mean,
there's not much we can do now,
but that's alright.
We will still
survive,
we'll remain
alive.

When in love,
you will notice
that you do not rise
like a brilliant sun
or a victorious knight.
When in love,
you will notice
that you fall.
It isn't the fall that kills you,
though,
it's the landing.
When in love,
you won't notice
whether it's warmth and comfort
or pain and hurt
until you are no longer falling.

The infectious laugh
of a young man
who brings cheer to all
without notice.

One plays the acoustic
with the potential of a genius,
writing lyrics
as thoughtful as himself,
but he is blind
to his magnificence.

You told me
you would never forget
as you took the train
and you left,
but you forgot
that promise too,
not a lot
but still untrue.

Never trust the someone's hug,
that small, erratic embrace.
It hides all their intentions
behind an unseen face.

I am locked in the wine cellar,
supposedly punished,
yet I may easily quench my thirst
and forget my pain
by drinking from the barrels.

It's raining,
it's pouring,
this waiting is boring.

They're crying,
they're mourning,
And now I am dying.

The sun may be bright,
but I've no use for it
for I am no plant,
I needn't photosynthesis.

You don't break a sweat
unless you're running from your problems.
You do not clean
unless you sweep your guilt under the rug.
You do not bathe
unless you procrastinate.
You do not sleep
unless there is too much to bear.

When I have been struck by an arrow of silver, I lay, awaiting death.

"Mother will cry!"

May she grieve quickly.

"Father will cry!"

May he mourn peacefully.

"Brother will cry!"

May he live happily.

"Your lover will cry!"

May he become free.

I am the Gatekeeper
to the threshold accompanied by
the unfortunate souls
that were victims of another humans wrath.

I tend not to compare
my expectations to reality
because I would see the same thing
each and every time.

In a game of charades
I am the jack of all trades,
that is, unless,
I were to have my own name.

"Well, my friend, tell me. Am I human?"

"I must offer you my candor and admit that I truly don't know."

I threw a little wish in the well,
you ask and ask but I'll never tell,
so you dove in and I watched as you fell
your loss, I bid you farewell.

I have many a pencil,
but none of them
would be sufficient
to sketch the lines of your face
as you smile.

The flame dances,
orange, with a hint of blue.
It's a simple,
green taper candle.
As nightfall approaches,
I blow the flame
and a simple breath
wisps it away
leaving black smoke
in it's wake.

Sometimes I'd like to float down a stream
and ignore what is causing me pain.

I feel lovely,
featherlight,
no worries.

No, that's not
quite right.
That's not at all how
I feel.
I feel like I've hit
rock bottom,
my chest chained
to a wrecking ball.

In my home,
I fight alone.

Alone protects me,
I have naught to fear,
for someone will not hurt me
if I remain alone.

I won't forget what we did together,
nothing scandalous,
but always breaking the rules
in good fun.
And even though I may never see you again,
I'll cherish those moments
forever.

I write to dissipate
my frustrations,
my sorrow,
my hurt.
In every little poem,
there is a message
that only a certain someone
could decipher.

I don't want to be the one to say it,
but I can't help but be angry;
I am to do what I am expected to do,
and yet
everyone else's errands are so minimal.
I can't help but be disappointed;
when you don't think of how
you not doing something
could be consequential for me.
I can't help but be frustrated;
that you keep saying you will make a change
but another day goes by,
and you still haven't done anything.

When I met you,
you had plunged your velvet fist
deep enough to reach my heart
that was frozen over, ever so cold.
You squeezed it tight and the sensation
oh you ripping it out
was painful at first,
but you proved to be
the one who could thaw my freezing heart
and bring me joy once again.

I am guided by darkness
for I have been blinded
by love
like it was a bright,
white light.

Don't wait for someone else
to create the light
at the end of the tunnel.
Do it yourself,
whether you use the end of a cigarette
or a torch,
let a little flame
that you made
lead you out of your misery.

It's easy to hide
when you have a shadow.
If you lack a shadow that lurks,
you hide at will,
never to see the light.