A thief thrives in the winter
When the cold anxious months make the body go thinner
While room grows for layers on layers of
Secrets and treasures stacked like neglected papers,  eventually a novel,
Hard-covered by a coat.
Held against the body, and shoved inside a bag,
Commodities come free when the weather has you bad and
making hand gloves out of tags.
When thoughts become a wind chill, bring you
feeling below freezing-
Selfish starving hands can be warmed pretty easily.

I guess I take after my mother. The way she walks, talks, screams and disintegrates.
It's not fair, I didn't ask for the comforting feeling of falling off a 300 foot building just to land face first at my dinner table.
And my hand writing looks like an etch a sketch trying to paint a picture of how we're still holding this family together. But it all falls apart so quickly if I give it a shake.

If you cut me in half you could count my scars like a tree stump. And they branch out with my misfortunes hanging on like leaves.
I'd do anything to cut down my family tree
Or for my mother to even hear me speak.
If I could I'd take my fist through my her voice box and wash her brain cells with rubber gloves and dish soap.
If I could just cleanse her ears with my screams.
How could I take after her when I'm the only one that's listening?

You ever wonder what it would be like for your own mother to find you in your room with dangling from your ceiling fan?
I know it's selfish but I can't go one ******* night without thinking about what would happen if I blew a red light
I am already two feet planted at the edge of the roof of a 17 story building shaped like the home I grew up in. Each floor is a year of my life I never got back.
The voices in my head saying "don't do it! don't jump" But I've already reached the ground before I even stepped off the ledge. Nothing's different.
I'd ask to stay home sick but they don't have a thermometer to measure the amount of love you're deficient of.
And they don't have a cure for neglect.
I didn't ask to be born with self destruction
Or to have to make friends with all of my grudges.
They're shaped like the ones that have raised me.
But they never left me less than empty.

My father and I joke about ending it all, we laugh in unison but I know that we both know neither one of us is joking.
If he died he would die in my closet, with the skeletons that kept me alive.
They'll bury him with my secrets that didn't **** me but kept me dead inside.
And in his eulogy I will concoct up a swarm of lies to commemorate his broken promises.
But he can rest with an clear conscious knowing my I'll live the rest of my life pretending to not be haunted.

If this family was a time capsule I would put in a letter to my father every single time he wasn't there to tell me to believe.
So I can open it 10 years later and remember that the fault here wasn't mine to keep
I hope your mistakes sing you to sleep every night you never did for me.
And every nightmare causes your eyes to bleed because every single time that I needed you, you were too blind to see.

If the apple doesn't fall far from the tree why do I feel like I'm so close to bouncing back.

Forget me, forget me.

Let me soar ,and shackle me not to this celestial pit

Let me be, let me be

Let me cast my long hidden shadow onto the moon, the stars and out further than andromeda

Let me ******, Let me ******

And for heavens sake not the four seasons

Because for every summer there is a winter

But freedom from this bind lies in astral interstellar hitchhiking

And let me sail but not to the community of hatred and hated

We will all be swingers when we lay down on El Dorados doormat


It 'reads "oh yes, free, freedom you've become"

So forget me, let me be free and ****** into the absences of cohesive atoms

If not held captive. The only sense is aroma and gone from nostalgic induced swooning

And there, oh there, I will vacuum la polvere di Stella that witnessed the most grandiose falterings

I miss the feeling of her spine like the mud misses its swine. Essential and right, rotten and ripe, the love boils over this melting ***.  I am lost, never to be found, I had a caretaker once but by my blood she was drowned.

I pick up soil and scoff, as if nature could get it right. How could it when it throws me through the unending plight. Empty does as empty is, like a broken string or an empty hymn, I listen for something true. But it is not there because life's unfair, and strips you of what you love.

But you'll never know if the world did null, what you thought you needed. Or was it your overbearing self, or the liquor on the top shelf that changed this love to fleeted.

It won't make sense, till you're gone from suspense and all the air escapes the dying lungs. I pray for this like an Angels kiss but no longer expect that mercy.

I hate the game though I play and play waiting to steal the queen

The flooded earth looks like afterbirth when I am awoken from my dream

A flower pedal is covered by twisted metal, this world has gone to ****

The  abysmal conditions caused by the crowded mission pushes me six feet deeper into this celestial pit

No sense heard, no sense made
I'm blind without a walking stick

Frustrated, disgusted,
I wait for death, if only it came quick

I crack the lock to the plastic box
that holds my broken soul

Much like pandora or a dark brown aura, it is lacking a true goal

But I search and search for a drive or thirst, to keep me wanting breathe

But I can't hold you, or escape the morning dew, so I only call for death

Save me please, from the promising breeze, that offers itself to me

*** I hate this life, I am filled with strife, and I need purpose desperately

As likely as this, an "I do" then a kiss, at my empty tender age

That's why I black out and drink, constantly on the brink, of showing my true rage

You'll cry and scream, like a memorable dream, in which you see gods face

He's filled with disgust, and like a bike chain with rust, hates our stagnant race

I call for hope, from the Buddha or pope, but no redemption will be given

I am destined to leave, on a day where some will greave, about the short life that hath been liveth

Oh this day will come, like the setting of the sun, and I will be free of shame

**** her and hate him, any future is grim, and there is only you to blame

I approach the the tile as I watch you die again. I reach out for your neck to undo the damage done. Thus, I cannot. As I peak, I stab and stab at the iron coffin. I can't help you anymore, nor could I ever. I push and pull like the tides unending dance but you won't awake. I scream and I see the stars blink as if my voice reached them. "Wake the **** up, you selfish *******." I dig my nails into my chest like the roofing of a home. But like it will one day, I collapse. I see blood, and death, and Christmas. What an unforgiving world in which I dwell. I grab a belt and think and this is what will allow me to hang between life and death. Then I exhale a breath. I'm too bashful to knock on the Messiahs door. So I wash his feet and cry, waiting for the day I face you again. As the physical plane holds my empty  corpse and the people weap as if I've ever even lived