I am not a boy
I am a tumor
I am an angler in the deep darkness waiting
I am enclosed, claustrophobic, and suffocating
extrapolating, because
I am a calculator and I want all the solutions to your infinity
I am a sine function perfectly predictable
I am a cancer
I am a twig in your forest, and the words in your thesaurus
that bore us because
I am a scholar
I am a hunter
I am an architect through the desert sands that demands
and understands because
I am a boy.
And I am not a boy, because
I am a tumor.

When did family,
Become about choosing sides
I'm done choosing who.

The door slammed shut so long ago,
your shadow in the breeze,
I find the pencil and the song you wrote
that brought me to my knees.

Christmas came on lower branches,
the cheap seats, the lonely guitar,
I sang to the person who you used to be
and smoked out who you are.

Even now I am still diseased,
still struggling to find a G-d.

Thought I found him in the autumn leaves,
before I was certain, he was gone.

The window shook on its hind legs
as the widow swallowed her sleep,
the spider came out from his abattoir,
all searching in darkness deep.

In a single bed, teeth grit shut,
twisting sheets in the street-light glow,
I hold my pillow like a brand-new woman,
exchanging heat for the money I owe.

Even now I am still fatigued,
indebted to G-d and home-grown guilt.

I have learned to grow and plant my seed
far from shadows that bring me to wilt.

You would be a fool
to think that when I look upon you,
my eyes do not gaze into the depths of your soul.
They see the sorrow you've felt,
the pain you've dealt.
All the tears, and fears;
bliss and cheers.
I am not judging you,
simply seeing through,
the mask that you use,
to cover up your bruised
Ego.
Know
Though that I am trying to understand,
your pain felt,
so I can lend a healing hand.
Not trying to leave another welt,
Upon your pristine frame.
For I am blessed to have Christ in my name;
I wish to
heal you
All
the
same.

Lust is a word
full of emptiness
and passion
and pain
Lust is a place
full of smiles
and broken hearts
and red tears
Lust is a song
full of movement
and rythm
and voice
Lust is you
that’s full of me
and we create art
that kills love

Sometimes a sadness comes over me.
And I drag myself under the porch  
like a wounded dog,  
injured and ashamed
ready to die, alone
I never let the rest the world see me like this.
My friends and family,
What would they think?
probably the worst,
Maybe they wouldn't think about it at all,
It didn't make much difference.
I howled and moaned and wept,
And sooner or later,
when I built up the courage,
Usually, after a night in a tall glass,  
drunken spit,
and flickering cigarettes,    
I drag myself back out.  
I shake out my bones,
and start all over again.
I know one day
I wont have the strength to crawl back out from under the old porch ,
But that's  okay.
We never really had a shot anyway
did we?