it was something I could feel
it wasn't even around me
it was in me:

it was...dread
that's the easiest way to describe it,
knowing the worst is coming
but having no way to stop it,
no way to warn the people you love-


until its too late...

I drown myself in death, horror, gore, and dread
To keep all these noises from inside my head
I watch people die, suffer, and ****
Only to see that others have more ill-will

I fear only silence for my head starts anew
With theories and scandals to change my views
I fear this power, so I must try to run
Avoidance is survival, all meaningless under the sun

what do you do with a life you don't want
what do you say to the ones you can't have
what do you hear in the wake of the dead,
in the dawn of injustice, to that sunken in head
what do you think when the silence seeps in
when your mind goes awry and mind will not mend
what do you see of the misfortunes given, did you deserve it because of your ungratefulness so long ago
how do you live with the pains of the past, the burdens of blunders, the lies, and the masks
a world full of color but all too blind to see
that this place is dying, and so are you and me

what happened to the girl in the park
they found her bound and ripped apart
the town erupted then, in the dark
and ran down the old man pushing his cart
someone to blame, no ****** marked:
smiling, dripping crimson
children stood in the park

There's a wall
A tall, thick, high brick wall
It's not in the streets or around the bend
It's in my mind and I can't break in

I try to think of deeper things
But the safety mechanism isn't in my range
It rebounds all thoughts, worries, and dreads
And then, somehow, it expels them from my head

You would think this a gift,
a God-given talent
Instead, it lets in
man's bitter, vengeful malice

I am from whimpering Willows
From hidden fields and the dark moonlight
I am in the words dripping like the dew of grass
(Glistening, bright in the morning sun)
I am from the veins of the creeks
The haunted shack
Which held foaming dogs
And kindly ghosts from the past.

I am from bleached walls and late night visits, the impatient inpatient
From those crème colored walls where Horae’s heart was my only solace
I am from the scream-filled rooms and the silent nights
From six feet under to lost in the clouds
I’m from the Father of None whose heart I knew so little about
And the chimeras that danced in the nighttime to a darkly song

I’m from slashed papers written in crimson
And the soft light of dawn
From the life, my grandfather stole
to the body in her casket, cold
Under my bed lay Eros, daunting, but just, all the same
And I kept my weapon upon my desk
armed with thoughts twirling through my anxious, little head

I am from the locked doors without keys
And from false loves and false visions
The delusions of the mind and of the heart
I am from the green shining jewels of Hope
From a childhood cut too short
And an adulthood which came too fast

Born to name which was not my own
A life I would never live
From the bright white buildings
A dry throat, blackened vision, a blackened eye and a bleeding heart
In this world, I exist
And in The Separate, I used to live
But all these sleep filled nights have made me sleepless
The fuzzy grains of static fill my ears, my mouth, and my eyes