Curled beneath the Christmas tree,
On this snowy Christmas Eve,
Lay my daughter, nearly three
Upon this perfect bed.
Asleep and warm in footed wear,
Tinsel static-ed to strands of hair,
Glistening lights ‘gainst skin so fair,
Halo her youthful head.

There she dreams of dreams her own,
That circle ‘bout her life, her home;
Doesn’t fear the world unknown;
I pray such times remain.
With eyelids’ flutter, weaves tomorrows,
To fill with splendor, not of sorrow,
From her, such vision I will borrow;
And will live my life again.

Nestled lone, in face of fire,
Breathing deep, this sweet admire,
With new eyes see all my desires,
How life has blessed so far.
Then, with scent of piney resin,
Awakens precious Christmas present,
Blue-eyes sparkle, sleepy crescents,
The babe beneath the star.

A waif on this earth,
Sick, ugly and small,
Contemned from my birth
And rejected by all,
From my lips broke a cry,
Such as anguish may wring,
Sing, — said God in reply,
Chant poor little thing.


By Wealth's coach besmeared
With dirt in a shower,
Insulted and jeered
By the minions of power,
Where — oh where shall I fly?
Who comfort will bring?
Sing, — said God in reply,
Chant poor little thing.


Life struck me with fright —
Full of chances and pain,
So I hugged with delight
The drudge's hard chain;
One must eat, — yet I die,
Like a bird with clipped wing,
Sing — said God in reply,
Chant poor little thing.


Love cheered for a while
My morn with his ray,
But like a ripple or smile
My youth passed away.
Now near Beauty I sigh,
But fled is the spring!
Sing — said God in reply,
Chant poor little thing.


All men have a task,
And to sing is my lot —
No meed from men I ask
But one kindly thought.
My vocation is high —
'Mid the glasses that ring,
Still — still comes that reply,
Chant poor little thing.

I look for problems in the simplicity of my life.
I search for answers without having questions.
Am I just seeking attention? Why ask for trouble?

This emptiness I feel, does it have reason? Can I give it a name?
Can I label it in order to box it up, and hide it away?
I’m not sad, but this can’t be called happy, I just want to stop.

Stop thinking. Stop doubting. Stop feeling nothingness.
I’ve become lost. Aimlessly fighting for something I cannot attain.
Hell, it doesn’t exist. All I’ve done is get trapped by an ideal.

An ideal I’ve convinced myself is happiness.
How hard it is to just be happy? Stop and smell the roses you’re given.
But who knows how to accept that? Insecurity takes over.

My vulnerability feeds on itself, funny how that works.
Each weakness opens the door to breaking me. Opening new cracks to feed on.
When you’ve gotten used to being broken, how do you let yourself be fixed?

That light at the end of the tunnel, how long can you hold it for?
It’s swallowed so fast. Enveloped in a sea of black.
Why can’t I ignore the darkness and accept the light?

No more questions. No more thinking No more doubts.
Because, there is no solution.
A solution needs a problem.
I just can’t accept there isn’t one.

Oh, the places you’ll go, the people you’ll meet.
Oh, the people you’ll love, the people you’ll cheat.
Oh, the happy times spent under the warm sun.
Can leave memories of days filled with nothing but fun.
But in times unlike those hot summer days,
You’ll hurt a million people in a million ways.
You’ll weave lies to save no one but you.
You’ll break wills and heart (a lot more than a few)
Oh, the things you’ll inhale, oh the things you’ll drink.
And all the while, the world is moving too fast for you to think.
Oh, the people you’ll step oh. Oh, the windows you will have smashed.
Oh, the way you’ll treat them. Oh the way their arms will be slashed.
Oh the places you’ll go, oh the people who will die.
Oh, the blood we’ll shed, the tears all shall cry.
Oh, the clothes on the floor, oh the bones that’ll be broken.
Oh, the things people will do because of the words you have spoken.
Oh, the number of stolen candies, oh the number of homes you’ll break.
Oh the times you’ll sit down and wish this was all fake.
Oh, the pages you’ll write, oh the amounts of duct tape used.
Oh, the people you’ll leave alone, ******, and bruised.
Oh, the times you’ll laugh at other people’s pain.
Oh, the people you’ve cut down for your own gain,
Will all add up to one lonely night,
When all is gone and wrong with nothing to write.
You’ll say “I wish it was different” while you sit on your bed.
You’ll remember the things you did, the s thing you said.
Will all add up with you leaving this place.
As you lay on thew cold ground, without a smile on your face.

A thousand heartbeats
rest upon a pillow
racing
to no finish.
A pulse quickens,
a tongue
tied,
strained by veins.
Sleep is
LOST
in a dream
a haunted fairy tale
draining
my
bruised
soul.

“I don’t believe in love”
He said
“There’s just this
Sycophantic idea with forever
And that somehow our passion
Could last exactly that long”

I think about you
And I almost believe him
But I know
I can love you forever

I am too good at bear hugs
And am fully flexible
When it comes to Kama Sutra napping
I can hold you in slumber
From any angle

I know there are days
Where I fall so far apart
The slow drag of my soul
Along the ground
Pieces me back together a little *****

I am a little *****
Especially when it comes to my mouth
I say things sometimes
That surprise the disgusting

I hope you like ***** talk

And I hope you can be patient
Forever is a long time to love somebody

I mean
Centuries from now
After my soul has doubled back
On it’s ***** self
So many times I come back as just a flower
I will still try and smell nice for you

And I will try and stay alive in
Whatever *** you drown me in
For as long as I can

I mean
I can’t live forever
But as long as I do
I am fully capable
Of loving you