With what will you call on me for next time you say my name.

Will you ever call me for something other than a game?

I lie awake, drenched in the mistakes of the day, and still I cannot get that nagging voice to go away.

Grace, you chase in an infinite pursuit, nothing could get you there, and you haven’t a clue.

Raised from the wolves, drowned in pools upon pools of clouded mystical illusion,

delusion is clear glass upon your eyes. Dances and ribbons and merry-go-rounds,

falling, and floating up and down. Ice shatters ahead,

still take a step for a breath, an arm for a leg, a useless bargain,

much less to be said. You I summon, sand beneath my feet,

echoes and key-chains march to the merry beat. Behind, far and a long way,

I wave, I call, I signal with all my strength. Fireworks, loud, astonishing,

colorful, hold your gaze. Ground gives way,

parts away, and away, no bridge across.

Alone, I walk.

Forever.

Alone….

Just an echo atop the water
Vibrating
Gliding
Voices of the starry night sky
Calling
Through the distant hills
Saturated with life
Awakened in synchronicity
By the potent piercing energy
I'm alive
I'm the fire in the dark
All that's left here are the waves
Of what began long ago
Echoes in time
I can hear them
I yearn to fall
Catch me
Hold me
Jump into the flames
Don't think
You'll become the water

I awake every morning, uncertain.
Unsure.
Of what would be worse.
To break the heart of an angel,
Or to consume her beautiful light.
Born of another universe,
Her beauty unyielding.
Created from star dust and matter of the most potent kind.
Brighter then the sun,
When she smiles,
When she flies,
Her wings spread across the sky,
Only angels feel so gently,
Love so selflessly,
Care so extraordinarily.
I have trapped the angel,
In my grasp,
Unknowingly, she is consumed by my darkness,
Yet, loves me unconditionally,
And I her,
But I don't deserve an angel,
Especially her,
And if I let her go,
I shall break her pure loving heart,
But i'm sure she will fly again,

Though I will have thrown away an angel.
What am I to do.
Now that I've been touched by an angel,
And hold her heart in my hands.....

It's all fake.
A waste.
A taste of purpose,
But a gulp of knots .
Of rotting flesh,
A useless mess.
Artificial cool-aid,
Flavor unknown.
Endless make-up,
A show for the ages.
Nothing is real,
Filled with ******* pages,
Of explanation,
That doesn't mean a thing.

Let's make a purpose,
Show how strong we can be,
Let's just do it,
and keep on pretending.

One bit of hope an exuberant child sees, is but a glimpse of hope for humanity.
As small as the child’s eyes can see, their perception delves far deeper than you and me.

This glimmer of sunshine in a dreary nightmare of chaos calms the air,
Settles it and weakens the front. The waves of fury reach a wall, a reef, an ounce of care.

Atomic winter, blistering summer, augmented artificial blender, clouds the simple view of glass,
Distortion fills lungs, no longer breathing oxygen, but poison, until the child sings their song of bypass.

Such a note they reach, can only breach the highest chords of heavenly tune, stretching to high noon.
Clouds depart, wind blows not but a leaf off the ground, and all over this resounding sound is soon
heard.
Sweeping away the devilish waves of fury, the legions of mindless drones trapped in oblivion.
The hearts of aching, frozen souls thaws with incomparable ease in this new dominion.

Hope is alive, it cries out at the top of the lungs of the ambitious,
Even in the darkest days, the most trial some haze, the most oblivious gaze,

The song of the child will break the links of these iron clad chains of malice and set you free.

Dusk has raised his hand on us, he's reached his mighty peak of lust, just know that it's not enough. But It's only for a certain time.
No, no rays of light, I'm prompted to just turn away, sleep until another day, if only to avoid the night.
No, no cost of flight, so easy to just fade away, your mind trapped for another day, it's only just to keep alive.
Stay, here for certain time, I'll look him in his cold dark eyes, he plays and messes with my mind, the only loyal friend of night.
There, there he hovers, threw me to oblivion, race to be the champion, he can't hold me down for long.
Reach out for the distant light, as darkness losses grip of night, it's only just a matter of time.
Where, lies my peace, often met by friends of night, loyal friends don't have to fight, it's only just some company.
Friends will come, and friends will leave, but a nighttime friend will always be, just until you free, free your mind.

Darkness grips,
It holds firm,
Hands of infinite strength.
Walls of entrapment,
Suffocating.
Hope is the only way,
Reaching.
Let go,
And unleash from within.
I win.

Can anyone hear the storm brewing in the distance/can anyone feel the specks of light fading away/flashes of lightning spark the dim horizon.
Then, suddenly, changes to the sky profoundly grasp my mind/a storm here, I do not find/instead cosmic colors correlate to relay a certain alteration of reality.
A certain distortion that which brings about haziness, drowsiness/with this gentle sensation manipulating the mind, comes dreams of everlasting bliss.
Fields of floating clouds which have become opaque and concentrated, I’ve never felt so emancipated/ movement has no feeling, no restraint/ limitless, I have no weight.
Moving steadily, steadfastly, ready to finally live, free of bounds/ not a single thought or worry has hit me, as if I simply don’t care for anything worldly.
Then I see, seemingly far away as can be, my family straight ahead of me/ waiting for my arrival from the flight that has brought me liberty.
I join them on a cloud far below, though a shan’t ask what has brought them such woe/ I’d rather not know, for this is a seemingly endless sensation that I shall not waste, by being pulled by gravitation back to that place.
I soar away in a hurry, an unrelenting flurry/ what has occurred, I finally ponder to myself, has occurred, but I am here now, however absurd, and so I shall enjoy myself/ for I have no knowledge whatsoever what this new color wrought horizon brings for my future.
My wings, with the span of what seems like infinity guiding me, flying away into this brilliant spectrum of divinity.

Love is most potent near death,
So lie her down gently upon the coffin,
And disturb the dead man of his rest.

Softly, low key, I’ve found my melody…..
The one that has been searching for me, in the dark,
It calmly searched for me, high and low, but mostly low.
Through the brisk morning dew, to the mid afternoon,
She sought me out, as if it was known that I needed help.
Not even I knew, so oblivious to the truth, I walked without a set path or destination.
I then saw the sun set, on a long weary day, and walked toward it naturally, toward its radiant beauty.
It struck me as a new sensation, a new gravitation.
I approached with the grace of a bird soaring in the sky, I knew this was right.
As I came near, she reached out for me, her intentions clear.
I saw the natural set of the sun into the protection of night,
Then realized it was I that needed protection, comfort.
As she touched my face, I felt a relief, a sudden weight lifted.
I looked back on the path I’d approached from; it was dark, and cold.
As I turned to look forward, the radiance ahead caused me to move toward it.
She took my hand, now intertwined in hers; together we followed the sun as it guided us toward everlasting light, leaving the darkness behind.

Turning red with lies and maddening eyes.
Of cold blue crystal glass hard as nails.
The sky breaks and crumbles into pieces,
Of undiscernible ridged puzzle fragments.
Opposites of analogous strength.
Forces collide as with all others.
Heavy saturated rain falls up,
Into the anomaly,
Freezing into daggers.
Fire accelerates down,
To meet its foe,
Into chaos.
Blistering shards of half-lives,
Collide into oblivion.
Leaving everything and nothing,
At peace.
All to be replaced by a new sky.
One without color.

I feel.
But it doesn't matter.
It hurts like a burn, it aches like a sore rib, it blisters in the sun.
But it doesn't matter.
Too much tension, too much stress.
Weakness.
It plagues me like a nagging whisper coming from the darkness.
Somewhere.
It bewilders me, it rattles my bones, it will keep me from sleep as sure as the sun will set.
But it doesn't matter.
Abuse, violence, degrading, hating, I just can't take it, I can't sit back and watch.
I feel your pain, I am your tears falling hard to the ground.
They don't make a sound, so no one even notices.
Except me.
I'm right beside you.
Rain, pain, dripping down my neck.
His brutal, insensitive hands hold you still, I just want to break his neck.
You sit there and take it for whatever reason.
I watch with disdain.
I study with an intense gaze.
His eyes lock into mine and, for an instant in time, I envy him, but
Then I take hold of my kind hearted soul.
I reach out to stop him, or even to just comfort her,
And they walk away together.
I watch as they stroll away.
Together.
There is nothing she can do, his will to fight is enduring, overpowering.
She gives in, submissive as always.
Just another scar.
They disappear into the pouring rain,
And there is nothing that I can do.....

“ I love you forever”
Now does that sound familiar?
Look me in the eyes and make me feel this way.

“Things aren’t the same”
Now tell me how they’ve changed.
Did you think this was a game?
Thought you could just pull me in, and leave me this way.

Was this all a lie?
Did you ever really love me, or was it some fantasy to just hurt me
How could I tell the truth all this time, and feel this way,
When you mean absolutely nothing you say.

You're making a mistake, someday you will see,
But by then you will have seen the last of me.
I’ll survive, I always do, somehow I knew I wouldn't end up with you.

Now I know what to say, I didn’t realize I could that day.
“Good bye, forever seemed to fly right on by”

Whispers slip through cracks in the foundation.
Slippery cries for comfort seep into the room.
Awakening splinters through the eyes, open wide, bloodshot.
Deafening, eager yearning to go out into the night.
Whistling wind surrounds gently, stars gaze profusely.
Footsteps shake the ground, pound for pound, without sound.
Shadows lurk between the homes, distant voices emulate, they follow.
To the side, finally, company arrives.
Friends, foes, I do not know, closely they follow.
Strolling, waiting for something, anything.
More stalkers arrive, different shapes, different size, dark outlines.
Whispers, whimpering, shrieking cries fill the skies.  
Estranged, enraged, pounding waves to the head.
The lake lies ahead, lake dread, lake dead to the night.
Approaching, the frequency reaches new peaks, unbearable.
Standing tall over the water, surrounded by hordes of them.
Reflection, refraction, not sure which applies.
When I look down I can't believe my eyes.
There stands thousands of people, faces, eyes.
Peering at me.
And only one shadow.
One shadow, where,
By all means,
I should be.

You see the red brick road, the lines and rows,
The dreadful woes, and droves of cracks,
It's not bound to last.
It's like a viral attack.

When the lights go down, It's a quiet town, no one else around.

The stretch of stone, lined with trees,
The ground gives way and buckles your knees.
All while the wood explodes, leaving you bruised to the bone.

Don't know why you're here, suppose to face your fears.

The shattered sky, falls and cries,
The weight of life, takes you by surprise,
Gives you burdened eyes.

You sit there stunned, all kinds of blood.

Love calls out, makes you hear it's name,
When you know where to go,
And find your way,
It seems so clear, so hard to stay.

Start taking strides, and your strength arrives.

It's not an easy street,
It's just the way to be.



.

A steady, warm flow into the gentle night.
A certain sway back and forth, confidence surely not lacking.
A certain feel about this night, not forced, just right.
Stroll to the car, ready to embrace all that is enjoyable.
Get in, start driving, then suddenly, trouble.
Hell on two feet, a stumble, she falls on to the pavement.
A gasp, and I feel all containment leave my soul.
No breath left to waste, time is of the essence, and I must make haste.
Jump from the car, hands and feet feel like rubber.
Stumble, fumble, and reach for her withering life.
She lies there fallen, beaten, overdosed.
I lift her off the ground, Pale as a ghost, though not as light or transparent.
Freeze frame this moment in my mind, on repeat, over and over I find.
Rush, rush, not fast enough. Run, run, as swift as my legs can carry me.
To the hospital right in front of me, luckily.  
Not a moment too soon, eyes dry, heart racing, muscles aching.
Doctors await eager to determine this poor girl’s fate.
Rushed away in a tizzy, leaving me winded and dizzy.
Gone as quickly as she came, didn’t even catch her name.
Always keeps me up at night, wondering if she was ok….

I am hurt.
Destroyed from within.
I let them become close, too close.
They seem so nice, so welcoming, and I fall head over heels.
I feel at home, with comfort and a security blanket.
Friends become abundant, a big party every time we meet.
I become so attached, the feeling of a high launches me to oblivion.
Perfection is what I’ve found, sailing far above the clouds.
I awake one morning and realize that I yearn for more.
Nothing pulls me down faster than my mind at work.
I can’t be blind, I won’t.
The fulfillment lasted as long as my appetite was satisfied.
I know it wasn’t enough, the love turned to rust at the first sight of rain.
Now, I’m viewed as insane.
I have no friends, they’ve disappeared, turned away.
Treated like a plague, they avoid me.
I feel so alone and I can’t get close to anyone.
Not a “believer” like them so they are not compatible with me.
I guess I’m not adaptable to anybody.
Losing my place among the sheep.
I feel, but it doesn't matter.
Should I go back and pretend so I can have false friends?
I can’t. I won’t. Instead I’ll just be alone.
Not the WAY of the flock, but at least I’m not living a lie.
I think, but it doesn't matter.
Connection, it doesn't matter.
I tried.

Day after day it’s the same view.
A tiny, boxed in, three sided wall no window.
There is nothing to this place, but a few self decorations, a picture of his little peewee football star,
His wife, and a Bob Marley poster.
It acts as a prison, only he is free to leave whenever he pleases.
But it’s the fact that he doesn’t that is startling, a prison for his mind perhaps.
These Grey walls feel as if they are closing in on him, inching closer together daily.
He doesn’t even know the time or date anymore, can’t even see his computer screen with all the work.
Stacks upon stacks of thick, confidence choking papers stacked as high as possible.
His eyes as the days endlessly go by become droopy and darkened, bloodshot.
Lost in all the quiet chaos of the cubicle, he forgot his wife’s birthday, also the day they met.
He dozes off briefly in his uncomfortably small chair, and finds himself at the dinner table.
His wife and son eat robotically, emotionless, his wife giving him a glance every so often.
The man takes a bite, an exhausting motion just to lift his arm up to his face.
Conversation attempts to be started by the wife, but he uses the automatic voice messaging system.
A blink, and dinner is over, he finds himself in the kitchen, yelling coming his way, smashing plates.
Broken Glass, and he turns it off, another flash; He finds himself lying in bed facing away from her.
She is heard sobbing, he turns it off……..
In the cube again, the autopilot working to full capacity, he works tirelessly, playing to the same beat.
Days go by, it seems, the stack of papers never gets smaller, yet the walls keep closing in.
Another fall into brief slumber and he is home, his son in front of him with a toy truck, no response.
The trance is so strong that he automatically signs the divorce papers; it had been coming of course.
Hours slide and days go by, time slips through his finger tips, unaware of the cries for his return.
The man stares expressionless at his stack of papers, the walls start spinning, the lights dimming.
He is out; comes to in his living room and something flying towards him. He reaches out, on his own.
The football that his varsity star son threw slips through his hands and smacks him in the face.
He comes to, and he is suddenly focused; only it took too long.
Too much time went by, stuck in his prosaic cube.
The next day he quit his job and spent the day with his son, trying to salvage the burnt remains.
The damage was forever done.

Time ticks away every moment, the fluid motion of hands turn the pages quickly day by day, way too swiftly, the storms all pass. The rain washes away the pain of the disturbing rust filled day. Awake, barely awake, senses touch, feel, and make some curious thoughts, wonders. The passing of light creates whiplash across the skin. Burning, never still, against weak wills of consciousness. Reaching, yearning for a hunger that cannot be filled. Beaches, mountains, valleys, highs and lows, no, nowhere can fill the void. Madness, vines of ever reaching obscurity keep the ground all too near. Here, there, glass surrounds, shattering at the slightest bit of resistance. The machines work flawlessly to produce each and every last breath, until all is spent in a blunder of malcontent. We’ve all gone mad, so crazed with wonder that numbness is all that exists. Resistance, resist, worn down by the consistence of the system. Far too complex, far too submissive, this could only be, not but an accident, but a purposeful disposition of a far too ineffable being. To live, we call it, should be humorous, a good laugh, mindless, in essence. Tell me why we try; it’s in the design, embedded deep within. Some sick game of a narcissist, some race that we cannot complete, due to lack of whereabouts, purpose. You should laugh due to the fact that you will go back to work eventually, inevitably. Work.  Pointless and wasteful, trying to find a temporary need to exist. Society, all gone excessively insane, not a single logical reason for doing anything. To do, without the conclusion of completeness, and the answer to the question, why?  I just don’t know.

He's the typical ******-bag who plays guitar.
She's the typical ******-bag who likes him because he plays guitar, and acts like a ******.
I'm the typical "nice guy" who is not jealous, but envious in a sense.

I acknowledge my lack of douchiness and continue reading my book, alone, content.

The silence feels nothing short of
deafening and paralyzing
but I am nothing but
a shell of my former self
waiting to leave for sleep with
heavy eye lids I long for this
release from the pain of
their faces staring down at
me, and I can't speak or
say goodbye, so I just watch
the candle flicker, hot wax
pouring over the sides and quickly
I realize that my time
has flown by and love has let
me die, has taken all my heart
away and nothing lasts forever,
not even a dreary day.
I let go with ease and feel
beautiful release as this is the
perfect end the perfect
beginning,
of infinity.

Wide, wide, he opens his eyes , takes a deep breath , stands up high. The bars slide smoothly to the side, they wait for him to step out onto the line. He walks, his legs heavy already, dragging along the cold waxed floor. Never felt this sure before, that this is it. The pinnacle of his existence, the ****** before the grand finale, the last beautiful sunset, this moment takes him back. He opens his eyes and there in front of him flies beautiful chirping birds, hovering above a peaceful meadow, green, plentiful life is abundant here, as he turns back to the cabin built by his own hands, she peaks through the door. Oh how this woman he adores. Many nights they lie there on the porch, how fast the time goes, yet the feeling is infinite, passion, throbbing, pulsating, emulating, vibrations trapped in his mind, breath leaves him shocked into bliss, it is this that he will miss. Back into reality, oh the stormy sullen, prison night. Strapped to the chair that which he shall never stand up from, why would he stay here when he could be in the cabin with the woman of his true reality, a desire so strong, no prison nor death can hold.