When the night comes,
Take the Armour,
Swing your mightiest sword,
Like a sudden gust of wind,
Gather in light,
Of thousand angels,
And fight the battle,
Of demons and devils.

Rising temper,
Waging battle,
Wound after wound,
Yet the victory is clear.

So say the prayer,
O' mighty soldier,
It is the strongest weapon,
For it is,
The Lord who win the battle!

Through the sluice and trickle
upon my glassy world view,
I stare like the dead,
while waiting for you.

Though I see the storm,
My heart rages in its thunder,
Knowing you'll creep in soon,
Obliterating this nightmare wonder.

Unlike this thrashing rain,
slicing up my window pane,
I've seen the beds you've lain
in my jagged dreams:
where my spirit walks free
chasing my heart's silent screams;
connected to yours
like a ball and chain.

“Hello. Get me a regular, cream no sugar.”
I am the thief, the slave, and the beggar.
“No, not decaf, thanks. How much?”
I am the pillager, the terrorist, the serial killer.
“Keep the change.”
I am the human centipede and the necrophilic, cannibalistic undertaker.

“Oh hey whatcha reading? Hmm? oh, no, I just got coffee.”
I am the Roman general crossing the rubicon, proclaiming loudly that the die is cast.
“Yeah, I think it has something to do with how they roast it; just makes it better.”
I am Plato; discovering the realm of the forms and discussing all things with all people.
“Yeah, that’s true...I don’t know why I can’t make it that good at home.”
I am the ascended one; making spiritual love to the soul of the universe and seeing all things.
“Somewhat remarkable isn’t it?”

Loneliness demonstrates everything totally.
To feel is to wonder; to dance is to plunder.
So take off your dress. It’ll do you no good.

Sleek silk off your body like a waterfall ******
falls to the ground like a puddle.
In the darkness you become the new moon;
unseen yet so...

I could not avert my eye, not for anything.

You touched me with the delicate stroke
of a single finger around my neck to my face;
too potent and mysterious to feel properly.

Then with a lurch I grasped you
like a magnetic vine whose very life force
is clinging.

We danced,
and gave
and give
to live.

A dream that I chase, is something I should not catch.

When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
"Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?"
I fondly ask; but Patience to prevent  

That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts; who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait."