Secrets are lies
We tell ourselves

And in the winter months,

the sky,
grey with clouds
and smog

tears well in the eyes
of the children of dust.


For the sun has forsaken us

The crystal shimmers distract one’s self,
from what lies in front of thee.
And lonely creeps up close to heart,
when it thinks you do not see.

For there is an antagonist in everyone

How does the mountain thank the breeze?
How does the ocean sway,
A changed direction switched to thee
A wave who could not stay

Two mere creatures of the dust,
And one, by far, the better
Deep below the world's thick crust
With dreams matched to the letter

The icy breeze may hold the truth
Which one, unwisely, held
The other, so,  had thought, 'forsooth!'
The one, too far, compelled

A ring, a wrap, of roses neat
All thorns and vines and taint
Around, around, to near defeat
One never was a saint

And so one leaves with fear and hate
After layers of mistake
Some will think it comes too late
The other one might break

But this was not to spite from one
And not in fault of thee
Nor in rashness, careless done
Mayhap one day you'll see

How in this truth, so taught by act
The withering may start
The found are far more lost, in fact
Without a place in heart

And so one says goodbye at last
To her friend, the other
Though space between their lives is vast
They'll meet in yet another

The bad die young too

there's just no one
to miss them

We are all just a patchwork
of the things we want,
those which we deny ourselves,
and the *monsters* we’ve been.