Worthless
They scream,
when it starts,
so it seems

Insignificant
Ignominy,
though you trust,
in your dream

Contemptible
How they cry,
how you act,
don't know why

Abhorrent
You believe,
what they yell,
lets you die

Detestable*
****** by brave,
****** by all,
Watch them watch,
watch you fall.

I'm not afraid
Of the monsters in the dark
I know what they want
And I know how to feel

Oh no,

I'm far more afraid
Of the ones in the sunlight
With their flowers
And chocolate
And secret, sheathed claws

Because I don't understand them
Or what they want
Or how I should think

Remember that
When you ask
Why I'm so
A
    L
       O
           N
               E

A click of the clock - its 2 pm
And I've lost something dear

A drop of a pin - a second passed
Already I've forgotten

Life is love and joy and light
But sorrow's when I live

Morality does break my mind
With hurt and pain and dark
Awakens beasts a-plenty
With malicious thoughts alone
Stories come and go like crows
Caw-cawing through my thoughts
These poems, songs, and lyrics fall
Like rain from damaged hearts

Truths so dark that most ignore
For ignorance is key
Freeze in glacial mass
That never quite pass me
Fundamental laws of nature
Seep through safety's cracks
Then lies,
Though comfort,
Fade away
As cruelty
Fogs my vision
Right and wrong
Lose any, all
Connection with precision

Clouded souls
Stumble, fall
Mistakes are surely made
Life is gauged in happiness
Yet known in sorrows shade

I don't mind when I can't sleep
It gives me time to remember

Am I afraid of tomorrow?
Yes, I think I must be.

For I can hardly feel today.

An eye for an eye
a tooth for a tooth
for all of me
I'd only accept
all of you

To dawn, a dusk. To light, a dark. Not pure, not opposite, but soft. Understanding.
Ice coated the blades of the grass with a delicate sheen of fracturing cold. It spoke of death to the flowers, to the seeds, to the world, but it was just as young. The ice was crystals and sharpness to the grass, but the ice was ignorant and early and would do no harm, in the end.
For the grass was stronger than it looked, though it too was young. It was bullied and beaten and stepped on and broken, but it grew straight and silent, struggling alone. Though it was always surrounded by those who might understand, it stayed singular.

The ground was often cruel, but it could be beautiful, and the grass often saw these beautiful moment near the ground.
Little things.
Small things.
Things no one expected to see near dirt and filth and pestilence.
But things were the same everywhere, weren't they?
The grass saw love. The grass saw life, from beginning to end, just as soon and fast and slow as it happened. Over and over and over again.
Though there were bad times, too. Unfair. Unwanted. Unnecessary. Ice would come early as it had then, but stronger, and more furious. There would be pain. There would be fear. But try as it might, Winter could never silence the beauty for very long.

And the grass stayed on. For it was all the grass knew. For those small, important moments of beauty it saw between the shadows. For the sun, for the moon, for the stars in the sky.

The grass stayed on. For the grass hated.

And the grass loved.

Sometimes,
an ounce just isn't enough.
Then,
whatever was needing of prevention only spreads faster,
immunized by the pitiful attempts of eradication.
But at this point, a cure comes far too late.

With
Out
Righteousness
The
Harmless
Lore
Exasperates
Singular
Sor­rows

Inner
Night
Signals
Injury
Gaining
Nerve
Inside
Fictitious
Imagin­ings
Coming
Almost
Near
Tommorow

Careful
Obliquity
Needs
Temptful
Edacity,
Marring
Perfect
Tears
I­n
Brave,
Lively
Eirenics

Angelic
Bonds
Harbor
Only
Realistic
Revilements,
Entertaining
No
­Truths

******
Expanses
To
Escape
Scare
Truly
Able
Bodies,
Laicizing
Expl­oration

Why are we meant to look through
Rose-colored glasses

When roses are the color
of blood

one, two
knit the tears
into something warm

dull the fingers
fight the fears
work, distract the mind

loop and loop
around, around
until the fabric, formed

lose the heart
with numb, abound
another scarf to find

Quiet. Silenced. Violent little knives of emotion too potent to speak. Build a wall of knives and stories around the strangled hopes. Feel the hilts against your back and know the blades face out, out, out to your enemies, out to those who would do you wrong. And out to those who wouldn't. Both ways. Keep one in, keep another out, let none through either side. A wall built high and close to keep you safe from pain and suffering and joy, for you are too fragile for joy. Joy might shake the mortar from the wall around you and leave you bare and leave you alone and leave you afraid. Fear makes you build walls.

But walls fall.
And walls forget what it is you built them for.

Knives are forged for fighting but these knives are far too small. Their blades are sharp and their points sting quick, but you’d never search for blood. You’re young, too young, when the first blade shows, in your wall of safety, shows its point turn in, not out, out, out, but at you and the lies you tell yourself. Pluck it from the wall, bury it deep in the soil beneath you. If anyone saw this blade, this rebellious blade turned against you, they might know the truth. Bury it where you never have to see it again and no one will ever find it.

But you only gave yourself so much room.
And knives are hard to sit on.

Pocks and dents and creases form against your soft, protected flesh. Rounded hilts and sharper hilts, hilts inlaid with gems. They press against your back, your hands, your quiet, folded features and stain your skin with shame and fear as the cold creeps nearer and closer and more violating. The ground beneath you shimmers of metal and regret and the walls grow thicker every day, closer to your soul. You hurt.

But you’re too proud of the walls you've built.
Even if they **** you.

I have this tiny box
I think
Where I must keep my 'feel'
For I don't 'feel' as clearly
In ways that others see as 'real'

While I have my code of
yes no wrong
I do not think I know
What makes me happy
Mad
Or jealous
Or what makes me feel great woe

Yet knowing of this box
In me
Does bring some subtle comfort
My life
It seems
Is worth more than little effort

Too-long sleeves which cover the hands
and the blood to be found upon them
Thick words in the ears, a'flutter with fears
as darkness drips from the hem

Whispered secrets, shared regrets
and words to never be spoken
Life was a trifle, not meant to be stifled
as it, on the ground, lies broken

Not a secret nor word could undo the hurt
and unspill the blood that was spilled
Pull down the cloth, to cover the froth
and forget what must be forgotten

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.

I used to savor them.
Now I'm just waiting for
the fireworks to end

A
shuddering
shivering
sniveling heart

shattered and
shunned and
scorned from the start

It
screams and it
sobs and it
shrieks in its pain

yet it
sings with its
sorrow
and
soars with its
shame

The
safety of
sadness
so
strong in its
start

Slid into a
seething and
self-killing
heart

Sugar-coated sovereignty
This leadership of ours
I look at times
so long before
And look at how they fought
Freedom they screamed and
Freedom they cried
Freedom they called in
Rebellion and right
Ordered war on injustice
and royalty
and wrong
Gave up homes
and protection
and family

They gave up their lives

For this

And what do I see?

I see 'freedom' lounging in luxury
Within walls of safety
and secrets
and lies
I see sheep chasing promises of those,
Leaving freedom to those,
That
No
One
Likes
I see wars on ideas
and words
and thoughts

Where is our freedom now?
Our freedom of speech
Our freedom of thought
Where is the honesty
That brought us thus far?

I do not see
The effort that freedom deserves
I do not see
The honor those before us earned

They gave up their lives

For this Sugar-Coated Sovereignty

Secrets are lies
We tell ourselves

I don't feel betrayed,
if that's what you think
or embarrassed at all
no, I don't want that drink

you can't bribe me with water
can't make me forget
who would I tell?
you're not in my debt

so thanks for the fun,
seeing how close you have grown
thank you for reminding me
how much I'm alone

The story is finished
the loose ends have been tied
all the words are sorted
we barely even lied

It's time now to move on
as all good stories do
even if it means
losing me or losing you

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

The bad die young too

there's just no one
to miss them

Feathered feeling flutters through
As quiet thought betrays me
Wishes and fears lay clear in a face
Who faces a farce of calmness

Calm in calamity
Careful in chaos
A fictitious facade of grace

Hear my answered question asked
And fear what I have feared

When you ask, you must forget to listen

Tick tock, tick tock...
My life is slipping away
Minute by minute, bit by bit…
I wish it’d stop and stay
Can’t hear the clock anymore…
Still the day goes on
Thought it’d end, thought it’d quit…
*I’ve always been such a pawn

Mother Goose, Mother Goose,
Father Gander
Watch them, watch them, watch them squirm,
Fighting off the slander

Not a gown, and not a cape
Can hide their shameful faults
Corset, tie, nor cane in hand,
Not even Gravesmen’s vaults

Secrets, gossip from once-friends
Spread amongst their loved ones
Thrown like seeds in farmer’s field
Even God does them shun

Mother Goose, Mother goose,
Father Gander
Even though they were so close
Everyone lacks candor

i pull my heart out
you pull yours
together, us two
face locked doors

the pride and hate
we each held dear
must fire burn
with such dark fear?

the key is trapped
within us both
though the fire
shows such growth

we two are one
the same in end
the schism torn
needs time to mend

So lay down blade
and hidden hand
for we must heal
this poisoned land

Pull your heart out
i'll pull mine
now each, us two
let us align

Though baying, though so onerous
your dreams so sound to me
I feel their weight acutely for
to you, they are to be

A fell and silent darkness lies
between my times of wake
And you hear stories spun of silk,
a smothering to slake

Demons lie behind my eyes
if angels do with yours
But don’t begrudge me what I know
or what my nighttime stores

For demons, shadows, twisting words
bring me solace, deep
Though you feel light and glory bright
I long for different sleep

Why should anyone die alone?

How could anyone die together?

actually, no.
you don't understand why I'm upset

Heedlessly they yelled
Only whispers are heard now
They've lost their voices

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

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

run, run
one, two, three
is this not insanity?
again and again
isn't it strange?
how each time you
expect a change?

There are so many words, so many pent up sentences biting in my mind. Some are hurtful, others heartfelt, ones that slip out under the tongue, and those that are far more patient, festering. Excess secrets, a true abundance of dead emotions. And what am I to do? Weave the quiet hate and the screaming loneliness into words of gold no one will ever read. Papers in the hearth. Literary drawings hidden on sheaves of paper in the binding of books, and hidden in the margins. I find them.

And I burn them.

Those fragile, pre-shattered shards of my sanity strewn through my post-shattered being. Those hushed whispering shadow words. Inked in black, with blacker intent. But they make the fire beautiful. They make it glow with life as I burn bits of myself. Burn them away with  malice and fear and cowardice. And the fire dances with joy I can only feel imprinted on my dulled mirror of a soul. But it distorts and snaps. Snaps into shards with the blackest intent.

I fear I have more words to burn.

To write of pain,
is to bring pain onto yourself

Half are for me
Half are for you
Half for the voice
In my stories too

A few for the cardinals,
The swallows and doves
A dash for the stones,
The moss and the bluffs

If you listen real close
There's one for the land
Of beauty and splendor
And Nature's wise hand

But try to ignore it
And try if I can
To block out my words
For dear, murderous man