He left with the passing time
no farewells offered
no heartfelt backward glance
his footfalls ticking seconds
echoing in the Sunday parlours of the righteous he despised

He left with the passing time
no one mourned,no tears were shed
His sacred, bleeding heart
now but a tattooed image
on the chests of the dejected

He left with the passing time
on whispers of myths
and suspected tall tales
doubting his own truth
despising the lie of his creation

He left with the passing time
while pious mice sang of his glory
behind the battlements of faith
as the wars of the wicked raged in his name

He left with the passing time
while mothers wailed at shaken babes
and the disappeared sang from **** choked graves

He left with the passing time
as society shunned his brand
and drunken feet  danced lasciviously on his moral high ground

He left, with the passing time...

We see ghosts in the eyes of all.
Scarred lives bleed onto screens
as spoon fed masses forget to use the word human.

Do they not bleed red?

We see fear fleeing war zones
while we in our comfort zones
mourn not the lives lost but the cost of the living.

We see children torn from wailing mothers.
Crushed and bloated by the weight of water
tiny bodies wash up lonely, suddenly silent
now mascots for a cause they did not choose.

Inaction is the thief of humanity.
Greed, it's protector, smiles down on the dying.
There but for the grace of God...

No more will I whisper my pain into storms in the hope that the thunder will hide the sound of breaking.
No more will I wonder at the beauty of death and its promise of release, the monotonous metronome of blood dripping onto tile nor how it would feel to slowly swing, my life ebbing away as my eyes wonder at the stars they create.
No more will I swallow the oblivion prescribed, I will not allow the erosion of my soul any longer, I refuse to become any less than this.
No more will I question my existence  within a monochrome world while all around others glory in rainbow hues.

I alone am the captain of my destiny.

There is beauty here should I choose to see it and I have turned my face away long enough.

Barbed words
arsenic laced
draw blood from the fickle,
cracked and flayed
this brittle heart
cries out as mercy weeps.
Flaws once endearing
bring disgust
as contempt marches in
to dispel the myth we created.
A return to walls,
my worth reflected
within the safety of mirrors
as beauty hides decay
beneath radiant dishonesty.
Solace will not be found within the dawn.
Painted and smiling
I will become the lie you chose.

*listen to the silence of the breaking of my heart

Your small town
Has four corners
Across the road
From your house.
When the time comes,
Choose a road,
North, South, East or West,
And follow it fervently
To the end.
If all goes well,
You find yourself
Back in your small town
Sometime down the road.

Take flight upon the wistful breeze
mourn not the loss of mortal shell
let go of all with quiet ease
for those who loved you loved you well.

Then we shall sing a prayer for thee
a light to guide in passing peace
that you may rest forever free
as morning brings your souls release.