He was sitting at the bar,
not a nice bar at that,
when she walked in
uplifted by the draft
as she let the heavy door
close behind her
draped in a black dress
with black hair
like a shroud
and pale skin
like bones
she sat two stools down from him
and ordered an old fashioned
and necked it down
before ordering another
and another
and another
losing none of her poise
and no sign of flushed cheeks
she made eye contact with him
and for the first time in his life
he knew fear
and he knew he wanted to be scared

He ordered two old fashioned's
and slid a stool over
and told her his name
holding out his hand hopefully
she took it
with dainty fingers
her skin was colder than the creek
that he had been dared to swim in
during the winters of his childhood
"I think we've met before" she said
a voice like a funeral dirge
"so you must come here a lot" he replied
"you could say that,
or you could come back to my place"
he was more than happy to oblige
together they trudged off into the inky night
and he was never seen again,
and the next night
she was back at that bar
drinking old fashioned's
and waiting to be approached

she onced too many times
and left

he took it pretty hard
and died

the kids were not alright
and learned

Cigarettes are enticing
when they are inhaled between
the lips of a beautiful boy
with a perfectly crooked smile
and mysterious eyes.

But his smile is stained
with traces of nicotine,
and the puzzle in his eyes
is impossible to solve.

And when you kiss him,
you can taste the stale smoke
lingering on his breath;
the stale smoke that has filled his lungs
and left them black and tarred.

He says they’re nice
when you’re feeling numb.

So you take a drag
in hopes of filling your lungs;
filling your emptiness.
But it leaves you black and tarred
all the same.

**m.s.

Sometimes it is just too easy to quit.
Sometimes it is just too hard to keep going.
Sometimes I don't care.
Sometimes I care too much.

The pain is inside,
The pain is outside.
Sometimes I just want it to stop.
Sometimes I think about stopping it.

Then you show up.
You either call or come over ....and I have no choice.
I have to stay here.
I have to keep going.
I have to keep feeling.

Why do you tie me to this world?
Why do you care so much, whether I'm here or not?
Why do I have to care so much for you?
Why can't I just rest, sleep, find peace?

The joy of having you in my life is all that saves me.
The joy of having you in my heart is all that keeps me going.
I am tied to this life because of you.
We belong, here and now.

I fight the darkness with everything I am,
Because I know I have to if I want to survive.
I want to survive because you have shown me what Love is.
You have shown me that the Light is my Salvation.

The doors we opened together have changed me.
I still want to sleep - find peace,
But I know that I will be able to do that only when I am free.
I will not be free until I finish the work set before me.

You will not let me go.
You say it is because you love me.
I love you so much it hurts.
That is why I set you free.

My advice to you?
Run, don't walk, to your nearest exit.
That way, you won't see the end....and I won't feel the guilt.
As long as you stay, I can't leave.
As long as I stay, there is pain.

Run.
I am.

This time
A year ago
I was the same.
And yet, completely different.
Things were different.
But I feel that we're coming to a new beginning.
Something,
Better.
And yet exactly the same.
I'm about to feel beautiful
Again.

My heart and mind are tired now.
Yet, I still have the desire to be something different.
But this time,
When I plunge into the unknown,
It will be with knowledge,
And carefulness.
And a greater understanding
Of how to avoid mistakes.

Whimpers, woefully woven,
Can cry sheets of silk.

Made into a duvet, doomed,
Whispering chills in a silent din.

Icey cold, like daggers against skin,
Carving from the warmth it would once bring.

Solace, Silence and Serenity,
All seem to define this reality.

Imprisoned, within these four walls,
I weave my whimpers through tomorrow...

I will weave my whimpers,
But I will learn to sew.

A sagacious & sinister grin he bares,
As he spends a sojourn with his Sins.

The police may have taken him in,
But I ask, who really wins?

He awaited as the picture played,
Perceiving the perpetual pestilence of the putrid people - He sought to be plagued.

"It is sick!" - He stated, as he fulfilled his fate.
It is sick, what he did on that very date.

Not a man, but a mouse that opened fire that day.
A worm, now squirming in a court room to have his say.

Actions speak louder than words, and we have already heard your statement,
You are a Joker that deserves to be broken, in which Death is the only treatment.

Is only as big,
as your brains capacity,
and your empathy

Let's get drunk
not later
I mean right now
let's drink so much
that we wake up hungover
or better yet,
still drunk,
let's get so drunk
that we don't recognize where we wake up
let's get so drunk
that we do really dumb ****
tell people things we shouldn't,
sleep with people we shouldn't
let's get so drunk
that the next morning
the mistakes we made
make our life significantly worse
let's get drunk
because it's better than being sober