The skyline was beautiful on fire
All twisted metal reaching upwards
The water wars
The great migrations
The barbarity of a thousand roving clans
The infertility
And the old used as meat
Had made love a distant memory to those remaining
But tumbling over scraps
Navigating through shards
Gnawing at withered roots
Lapping at acrid streams
We went on
All we had done was hope better

wanting to die
is not a selfish adventure
when you can't handle
the thought of walking
step by step in a world
that you hate to the bone

If I die
Who would miss me
Mom?
No she doesn't trust me
Dad?
Jordan was always the favorite
Tash?
He always hated me
Allie?
She always did to
Jordan?
He probably would
Samantha?
I hope she would
All these people
All my friends
My family
All have
At least one thing
Against me
But who
Would miss me
A piece of southern trash
Good for nothing
Good at nothing
Samantha deserves someone better
So does destine
I'm not good enough
I never was
I never will be
I was a fool to think I was
Nobody would miss me
I'm sorry
To everyone
I've hurt you all
And now I see it
And I'm sickened by myself
I love Samantha and Destine
But I'm not good enough
So if I did die
Who would miss me?

she will cradle her head
in patchwork hands
and her
lips crack and out
spills words
explosively.

tears trace peculiar
tracks down
porcelain cheekbones
that jut out
much too harshly
under the dying stars.

cold moonbeams
dance over her hips
and
light upon
the desperation
in her eyes.

invisible bruises are painted
onto her
soul
and when she
smiles
you can almost see them.

a cigarette pressed to
dry cracking lips
will be all she wants
when she
is slowly
slipping.

she will never
breathe a word of
the betrayal
she felt
when her own body
failed.

and when her skin is
paper-white
you will press
trembling kisses to the
backs of her hands
and cry.

her heart is out at sea
but her hands are busy at work
things that she really couldn't care less about
things she "needs" to accomplish
complaints are voiced so often
about how unfair and cruel life can be and
the inferiority clawing through the minds around her
but she battles her own demons
day by day she struggles but she still rises
and she puts on her armor and she charges at it
she isn't one to hide because she isn't the one to give up
she has always been enviable
but what about admirable?
there's a castle in her mind
with candles lit in every window
and the wind can never take her light away
she is beauty in the making even as she sits idle
she attacks the world around her and comes out victorious
with flying colors
her words are magnificence and her heart is determined
she has always been enviable
she has always been admirable

When lust at last imposes in the heart,
It sets ablaze the ground and smokes the mind,
And no compelling order to depart,
Can separate the soul from thoughts that bind.

For when lust's made its great impassioned catch,
Its hold outweighs the best escaping skills,
Its talon's grip's a solid iron latch,
And won't release until its aim's fulfilled.

The lustful man deliberately will go,
Ignoring will to do what lust must do,
Where talons only **** him to and fro,
Ignoring moral peace which he once knew.

And when the lust has finished with a scream,
The weakness seems was only but a dream.

(C)2014, Christos Rigakos