My skin is but a map of scars
a journal of all the times I have betrayed myself.
Raw emotion settles in silver lines
multiplying with every breath taken
in fear and rage at my reflection.
I write meaningless lines in hope of cure as I carry the weight of their shame. I let them go, to travel into the ether in hope of reply, of friendship, of hope that I am sometime seen. A doppelganger of my former self, I writhe and spit lines at shadows, the longing too deep to name, my loneliness a constant echo within the barrens of my mind.

There upon the foamy waters
boats rock with silent ease
all about reflects the sky
forget me not blue
stretches the miles.
Hushed I watch the majesty
of simple lives
Under the toil of the sun
boatmen sing their nets ashore
shimmering with life
as though the dawn itself were caught
within
a single bell, chimes skylark sweet
keeping time with the rhythm of all.
Calling home calloused hands
to pretty parlours
where rest and the devil take hold.

I am doomed to keep repeating
this hateful cycle, self defeating
bleeding red through open sores
set up to be deaths only chore.

These many coloured choking pills
that rush my blood but cure no ills
have taken hands too raw with pain
and bound them tight against the rain.

There is no finer love than this
between my soul and fires kiss
which burns my throat and scars my heart
while keeping love and life apart.

I was made of glass
fragile and hollow by design
reflecting those around me
but never quite fulfilled.
I shattered, tiny fragments glistened
like tears
But still I felt nothing.
Sorrow slipped silently
numbing a soul hungry for all yet thirsting for none
I sat in darkness waiting
for you to see the sunbeams
glancing off the shards and think them beautiful
but you were blinded by so many splinters
that you could never imagine the whole.

Hips crash, breaking waves to shudder flesh. In this moment we are each other.
Linked limbs give way to locked eyes as passions kiss moves south.
Hand clasped sheets ripple at the shores of our abandon while all time stops and stretches cat-like across our waking.
We are one and all together.
A cry splits the darkness, ragged breaths tear from swelling chests as finally sleep masters all.

Winter skin shivers as damp settles,
his troubled brow seeks silent shelter to sleep among demons. Triumphs and tortures muddied by time haunt the waking as they pass.
"There but for the grace of who?"
is uttered under the cross fire of blame.
Surely the grace is ours?
An outstretched hand, filthy with grief begs solace from the blind.
On his cheek a tear to shame the world.

My heart it beats through lonely days
my head it heeds no warning
For I have loved you many ways
from dusk til waking morning.
The clock it marks my numbered days
each tick a token tear
My heart is held within your gaze
Why don't you see me here?

It is the parents that water evil to grow not their children!