Victims, aren't we all?
In a world lost, dark,
Riddled with countless stars.
Give up a glance
Inside the twisted soul and
Never give yourself up
In this insanity spree, my dear.
Androgyny suits you.

Dear God,
These songs make me
Remember Everything
About all those
Careless Whispers
You spoke to me,
So Far Away.
Like you would
Never Think
To just
Let It Be
And let us go our
Separate Ways, Worlds Apart.
So, here I am, stuck in
The Space Between
Where all my
Grace is Gone.
I just don't know
Why I Love You
And all I can hear is
"Don't Stop Believin'."
It's just one
Bad Day
After another for this
Southern Girl.
Eventually I won't be
Tangled Up In You
Anymore. I'll just be one of those
Misguided Ghosts.
But until then, you can
Call Me
Anytime, and just
Maybe,*
I won't need to find a
*Gravedigger.

you know ...
They all say sight
Is the first to go
When youth gives way
To age and the young
Grow old and forget.
But look through the eyes
And hear it on the tongue
Of a child
And monsters are everywhere;
Behind every closet door,
Reaching from under every
Lengthy bed skirt
And laughing in every shadow.
A child
With eyes so new
And freshly forged in the fire
Can see them clearly
And know them well,
But the old
Whose eyes are rusting,
And whose fires have grown cold.
Lose sight and forget,
They forget their childhood,
They forget the nightmares,
And see only what the light can hold.

What words describe you?
Lost in loving translation,
All for a tattoo.

A pencil dooms the poet
With it's temporary words
So easily erased.

On my midnight, midweek walk
I went searching for Disaster.
Being all ****** up
With no place to go
I think I found him.
He opened a door for me once
And I barely noticed
As I swept right through.
Now, so many midnight strolls since,
I go out searching for Disaster,
And when I opened the door for him,
He barely notices
As he sweeps right through me.

If ever there were a perfect time for lies
It would be now.
If only I could weave a tangled web
Of lies so beautifully thread
Together in their simplicity,
To make a bouquet of flowered words
Gently flowing down stream
In a basket carrying all our misplaced hopes
And our misplaced dreams.
If ever there were a time for lies,
It would be today, this hour.
I'd tell the lies a parent tells a child
To keep the tame, the meek,
From escaping aimlessly into the wild,
but still I doubt you'd hear
My feeble attempt at words
With those high tuned ears,
That catch only the off beat phrases,
My mumbled words, and jumbled speech.
You hear the fool side of me
And take no time to hear my lies,
Those lies that could save you time
And time again, if I could only
Spin the web a little craftier,
A little stronger and thicker in the threads.
Maybe then you'd believe the lies I spread.