You and I together:
Honey drips from the melanin of our skin, our kisses are sweeter than most, we speak without using words.
You and I together:  
Fumbling our hands across the braille on the others skin, it was written in a language on we could understand.
You and I together:  
There is silent love between us. A soft melody of promises underlying the way we whisper each other's names.

I will rewrite my name into the hollow spaces in your heart
build myself a home in all your blank space
allow you to love me in the softest of ways.
Even if it's just for now, I want you and I together.

Here I lay my head
once clean and white
was living now dead  
no restoring it to life

As is above... is below
Do what thou wilt
if that be your will
then make it so

Now dark was once light
once sterile and white
like the living dead
you trying to bring back life

The eagle soars over head
The prey is dripping red
The mouse in its mouth
is bleeding out!!!!!!!!
A nation that's surly dead
cant get your daily bread
wont help any how
but tear it down!!!!!

For love to grow
we must know some pain
Our destination unknown
and the pigs we've slain

Blood stains the ice
Snow that's crimson red
Its nature, its the prize
that well soon be dead

Blood splatters the ice
and the fire burns low
Hed my advice
you cant..let go

The broken pieces of my heart make his a whole

If I painted a picture of you
I think I’d call it Daniel and his Favorite Cigarette
and I’d delay passing the sugar
because you couldn’t wait four more seconds
for your daughter to finish her story.
I would buy all of the newspapers in town
with the crummy headline Fauster & Brown
Up in Sales for 3rd Week Straight and burn them
all the way through to the sports section
just to watch your favorite team’s numbers
go up in flames. I would rewrite
all those Father’s Day cards, remove the empty seat
in the third row on the left from my poetry reading
that I had reserved, stop putting new batteries
in the remote when you complains. But of course

I won’t. I’ll just make a scene at Sunday brunch
after we finish saying prayers to my dead big brother
at his grave, that dash like a tattoo on my bones—
Yes, Dad, I could have worn a tie
but I like the fact that I still smell like yesterday
cause I know my brother will never know
the scent of tomorrow. I will only curse
between sips of coffee and I’ll stroke my sisters hair
so she knows at least someone has been listening
these past ten years.