The loneliness came
on the wind through the rain
mournful tones sang a forlorn cry

spreading across fields
brought forth by the wheels
steam billowing out in the night

as the sound came to me
in my mind I could see
romantic evenings enjoyed

long lonely nights
alone with the light
running along on the rails

the old four four two
had a trick or two
if you tickled her gauges just right

stoking her belly
so hot and smelly
yet feeling at once so alive

the wind in your hair
as you contentedly stare
out along the path of the line

The little wooden station
sate people and engines
an oasis if ever one's seen

unloading the horde
and taking on more
conductor  calls " All Aboard"

with a shunt and a spin
the wheels begin
the journey resumes again

Again there's the sound
a cry in the night
that takes me back in time

when as a young man
I traveled the land
in search of a piece of mind

Ice cold grips
locked in a stand still
and I can't see you

Angry tears is all you think of
and that is all you have noticed
but that is not what I've known,
for pain cannot be masked that way.

I have seen you, running,
and you are blinded by the
unknown
and that is the scariest thing.

Not for you, or me,
but rather,
us.

Hot touches,
flames consuming quickly,
too quickly to be quenched by
all that you are.

Hidden beauty
and your warm eyes burn silver
and
it is too easy to melt into your mercury.

What have you found since then?

Just a burning grasp of what could be,
carbon dioxide turned to gold,
but I'm still near.

Never far behind, they say,
but that is the truth,
for you are simply what I have imagined,

one of the best,
unrecognized by your own.

Life happens when we're by ourselves
With no one to perform for
Or tell us everything will be alright
Or remind us we've ******* up
One too many times

It's then that we decide whether or not we like ourselves
My own contemplation knows no end

Seeking shelter during the storm
It’s not as simple as a run
Much more complicated than a fight
After all, how do you fight life?
With the will to live?
The idea is to survive
But the goal is to evolve
Me and my resolve
Proving to myself and the world
Better yet **** the world
It brings me problem after problem
All due to trivial delusions
That I have always left in the past
But just as I pass
Something jumps up to bite me in the ***
How much strength do I truly need?
The God they all fear
Doesn’t seem to believe in me
After all what’s the sense in blind faith
When all I see is pain
Maybe it expects more of me
Stop smoking ****?
Or maybe even to believe
But I can’t seem to hold on to that
I go to believe
And seem to be dragged further into hell

This desk is my island,
This pen; my sailboat,
My mind is the captain,
Exploring the world,

But,
I can never get far enough,
To know myself,
There’s too many miles,

Words can’t cover them all,

I barely know who I am,
Or even what I want,
Or if what I do; will mean a thing.

Though at times,
I am alone,
Others; I am not

I am my own worst enemy,

And my own best friend,

I could sail forever on this pen,
To a sea; misshapen and insecure,
To try and be sure,
Of an answer which may not,
Even be there.

But of this; I swear,

Whatever ship carries me,
To wherever you may be,
Whatever treasures,
I have to bare,
However adorned,
With all my scars and tears:

It’s all for you,
I reveal my insides,
I sift through the oceans,
And clear the skies,
I sail for you; my dear,
Until my last pen dies.

I learned more about you in a Tattoo shop than I should have

I was talking to an artist named Adam
when he mentioned a goblin shark
and how even in 2014
we have only researched 1% of the bottom of the ocean

and until then I would have never compared you to a sea floor
but it seems that is just what you are : undiscoverable

deep
dark
dangerous

It's over
she says as she watches me convulse with sobs
and it's the only thing she sees
the things she doesn't see
is how this has happened before
how worthless I feel to the world
how I've cried myself to sleep before
and I still have no idea why
that I feel so
E
   M
       P
         T
            Y
like a rusted cog in the clockwork
she thinks
that if I
S N A P
            M Y
                   F I N G E R S
it's going to end
that it's all just a
BAD
   DREAM
that I'll sleep off
but the difference between
THIS
         AND A
                      N I G H T M A R E
is that
I can't wake up