I have loved you,
At first sight.
I have loved you,
passionately.
I have loved you,
UNdeniably,
INdiscreetly.
I have loved you,
in secret
and behind closed doors.
I have loved you,
for all of your wonderful qualities,
for your big heart,
for the ability you inherently possess to make me laugh,
or cry,
for your power to make me happy,
or to make me red with FURY.
Just your ability to make me....
FEEL.
I have loved you,
even for your lies.
I have loved you,
even for your manipulations.
I have loved you,
for your superior attitude,
and even for the way you used me.
I have loved you
in every way there is to love someone.
My love has changed,
and grown,
it has evolved in every way,
meant to hold on to every thread of love;
left over.
I have loved you,
without respite,
from the pain
Of loving you.
And I still,
plain and simply,
Love You.

A feeling
so ecstatic
so joyful
so memorable
and nostalgic.
A reposeful warmth,
draped like a blanket,
ove the slick black ice,  
encrusted on my soul.
A Polarity
unstable.
The sun might be yanked from my face
at
any
second.

I am the gamble,
the chance.
but I promise,
the reward,
        is worth the risk .

As much as I want to,
I just can't stop thinking of you.

I'm just not sure of anything or anyone;
anymore.

I woke up,
covered in sweat,
completely naked,
in a  strange, yet familiar bed.
The room was brighter than I could withstand
and there was a dog asleep on my feet. Goose.
I roll over to find a tattooed arm flying toward me.
A smile creeps onto my face,
as I remember where I am
and I settle in right underneath that tattooed arm,
still covered in sweat, with a dog on my feet.
The room smells like ***
and it's still too bright.
But my creeping smiles never fades
even as I fall right back asleep.
Nestled
Comfortably
In his chest.

Stuck behind my eyes,
in the forefront of my mind.
You call me the bane of your existence,
but you stole my line.
You,
My dear,
My kryptonite.
A path of beautiful,
chaotic,
exhilarating,
destruction.
My drug,
my addiction.

I just hope he has the patience for me.

I could write
     a million words,
                    in a myriad of poems,
across endless pages.
and
       it would still,
                                        never be enough
to capture the
      multitude
of emotions
                you invoke.

Grass to feed the cows.
Cows to feed the people.
People to feed the insanity.
This life was never mine.
A temporary existence,
A futile attempt,
to exist,
in a world,
         in a society,
with backward priorities
          and corrupt authority.
This universe
          with all of its
contempt
and
pain.
Tears running down the
cheeks of a better people.
Take me home.
I
            Never
belonged here.

He?
Who shall I name?
Stories told by men,
believed by other men;
in vain.
Passed down
from generation
to generation.
A scapegoat
for the violence,
and
the insane.
The Age of Reason,
is where we should have stayed.
Pagan gods,
He,
Allah,
Father,
Son,
Holy Ghost,
Jesus Christ.
Invented by man,
it was always a game,
In this political soiree.
Of Church and State
Machtkampf;
inane.
My voice of reason,
grows stronger,
everyday.

The mania;
it crept in,
         One desire
                  after
                                                         Another.
Until
            it was
                                    suffocating
every
part  
of
my
being.

The window was shattered,
shards of glass
lay broken on the bed.
White sheets,
Stained red with blood.
Jagged flesh,
stuck to sharp edges.
The sky turns grey and;
thunder rumbles,
low and loud.

Replace the glass.
Bleach the sheets.
Stitch the wound.
Pretend it is all,
O.K.

In my dreams
he comes to my rescue.
In my fantasies,
he climbs the Mt. Everest sized wall,
and fights off the guards
to discover
a part of me
so long ago buried,
so rarely a glimpse caught.
He would cherish
and protect,
the fragility
of my hidden self.
But my great wall is
IMPENETRABLE
IMPERMEABLE.
And he
would NEVER
try.

I'll show you mine
if you show me yours,
there's no end
to the less and;
the more.
Put it out front
On the Merry Prankster bus.
Heads that turn,
on stiles of morose,
sprinkled in
dulcet dust.
Fleeting;
Freeing;
Binding;
Everlasting.
Jeckyl & Hyde,
they took my mind.

Never trust a Prankster
on this Merry bus.
Heads;
And beats;
intellectuals and,
Flower children all.
In the heat of passion
or the distance of disease.
I mean what I say
and say what I mean.
But they;
With ill intent
or goodwill ecstasy,
Always in dissent.
Plague of lies
and ill begotten fantasies,
scrupulously denied.
Sui Generis.
Out of the Abyss.

My heart has strings
Strings that used to dance
Above a stage of red,
Beating the perfect rhythm.
But he tugged
and he pulled,
And my heart strings lost
all tenacity.
Now they hang,
limp, lifeless,
emotionless.
Attached and unattached
To a heart that lie
Broken and black.