I could’ve sworn I saw you look my way,
makes me wonder why you never stayed
Could’ve sworn I heard your heart race, going at a fast pace.
All in my head, It’s all in my head they said as I replay
all the I love you’s,
all the promises,
all the forever and always’s,
all the lies.
I could’ve sworn you felt it too,
the love that grew so strong,
But what went wrong?
It’s all in my head, they said.
I could’ve sworn you were different,
not the good kind of different but the worst kind.
All in my head, It was all in my head you said.

I have an all too eager heart,
And a mind that will fall time and time again,
For what it hears the heart murmur.
In the depths of a borrowed soul
Whispers of promise and improvement
Echo around the nothingness
Carved and hollowed out there,
Forming a great crevice.
I will fall in to it.
Watch where you place your feet,
Or you may follow me down.

I am seething regret
I am the walls of the terrace which you broke down

Filibuster my longwinded-ness
And break the backs because of your freedoms

I am seething regret
We call it freedom of the body
I call it ******, and **** it, I will not be silenced

I am sick and ******* tired of children dying
I am sick and tired of mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers crying.
We are so selfish, that we refuse life, because we believe our bodies have that right.

I am a man, yes, that is true.
I cannot speak from a woman's point of view.
But I guaran-*******-tee you
That my viewpoint would not change
If my genitals sank in rather than pushed out

I could spit tacks
And I could break backs
Watch me seethe and writhe

I don't want to hear your point of view,
I want to hear the sound of silence
Because no more children would be dying
For freedom

The rotting corpse of a dilapidated morning glory
Waxes poetic in the dry summer air-
Its wilted petals droop heavy
With the subtle presence of something
Close to the end, but of a different hue.
A sweet yet sickly scent
Engulfs the neglected shrubbery,
That so gracefully collapses onto
A rusted, barbed wire fence,
Caving in beneath the heavy traces of morning dew
Atop intricate spider webs and fallen leaves.
Its bitter laments of despair
Sound out to the iridescent moon,
Cursing god in all his putrid grace.
Somewhere in the night, the sad wail echoes
Tumbling off canyon walls and over priced gas stations,
Until all that's left is a hollow boom
And the faint whisper of the Holy Ghost.
The pagan wind  slowly creeps by,
Pushing the flowers further down,
Until their stems take on the silhouette
Of the stooped backs of apologetic sinners,
Face down at the altar, accepting their worthy penance.
Dawn waits beyond the bend,
Her seductive fingers trace the fragile outline
Of the sleeping buds, blushing a faint pink
The color of a newborn child-
Beauty is only real within the tender moments
Leading up to it's intricate destruction.
Is this how it feels to exist?
Beating up against forgiveness
With bloodied palms, imprinted with the
Wilted outline of an indifferent morning glory-
Too alive to ever experience eternity,
For, in accepting life,
All else perishes.