Welcome, welcome my friends
to where it all ends
but first let me offer you
some proclivities? or perhaps a cold brew?
I'm sure our kitchen can put something in queue
as you can see, this place is your mirage
in a desert so cold, your mental barrage
walking through such a grand entrance
through the glowing rooms we advance
to get to the Dance of Darkness
show off some finesse
with that familiar feeling
that is never healing

We can promise you
this dance is quick to learn
and in return, yearn for escaping
your mind; reshaping
lets keep moving forward
we already have your drinks poured
strange walls that are these halls
everything dark and dreary
every passing moment, grows ever so wary
pale candle lit walls
the souls of its victims scout
spirits and apparitions throughout
through the rooms we glide
your facade, it cannot hide
behind the lies, drugs, and alcohol

Turn around, have enough of it all
psychedelic hallucinations
absurd explanations
broken promises
lost bets, empty threats
chalked full of regrets
through the grand door
and out onto the floor
three sheets to the wind
ride the waves, ride the waves
dancing your dance again
Jesus saves, Jesus saves
just serenade me in the moon light
the end is not in sight
let this be our night
but your mind caves, your mind caves
your mind; this dance enslaves
at your darkest of hours
your inverted crescendo
when your mind is aglow
you stumble and lose balance
but regain composure and take a stance
struggling with your own dance
with a sharp glance you say...

~~~~
so you really want to know what its like
we all have a dance we dance
but this dance of darkness
will grip you and hold you
take all the things you love and scatter them miles from you
cuz thats what it does, thats what happens
take what you remember and force a bottle to their neck
seeing things through a rose colored lense
but the next day not recognize
the face looking back at you
only thinking about yourself, when you can get the next fix
and then when the shakes are in full force, you remember...
so buy another bottle *****
scratch that itch
go to another party and tell yourself its okay
again, dance the dance
then pray to your god to give you one more chance
pray your lover will take you back
pray your kid forgives you
pray you don't die before that happens
the withdrawals are enough to make a strong man cry
and a weak man, die.
the fun times are over
im lying in my own sweat and ***** on the floor
yeah, i dance again because im starting to remember
and alls i want to do is return to that rose colored embrace
~~~~

as it impedes on your ability
to see what you need to see
why this cannot be
why are you this way
As the night continues
Second thoughts to stay
and everyone's darkness consumes
The dance is in full swing
its time to show them what you bring
its time to rock and roll
and as anxiety and fear takes its toll
at this very moment, is when you'd lose all control
taking a step forward, hesitation sets in
becoming as stiff as a mannequin
turn around, let this be a win
the 1st step is always the hardest
remember, you're just a guest

like falling to the dark side
lets avoid it like the plague
the path that takes and takes
increasing the stakes
every.single.day.
with a heavy price to pay
What do you say?
its time to move off this dance floor
too poor, bank account drained
this soul has been stained
like a memory etched in the fabric of time
an exact moment, where stars precisely align
whatever demons that block your path
you dont have to face them on your own
like medusa, lets turn them to stone
if they ever lay eyes upon you when alone

what is a wolf but teeth?
do we blame the creature, or the extension used?
what is prey but inspiration?
do we blame instinct, or the act of running?
claws are to sinew, as the hunt is to temptation;
do not fault a predator for its true purpose.
prey left without culling will eat themselves dry;
a necessary evil instilled in the cycle of life to assure balance.
however, what is a predator without prey?
hunters left without game will cave to survival;
first the weak, then the young, then...
when it’s down to the last two wolves,
think not of temptation, of inspiration
think of teeth, of survival:
life to the predominant.
it has always been, always will be.
when you see a lone wolf,
do not pity it;
know nature has selected the strongest.

Pages
Upon pages.
I write,
I scream.
I bleed.
Upon pages.
Where I drown out my cries.
In various fonts.
Setting the world I so desperately despise
Ablaze.
In the places that killed me to breathe.
You lived.
You found comfort.
Solace.
You found peace
Where I found pain.
I do not hate you for the love you lack.
But you do not know what it is like.
To watch you be without it.
It is the emptiness that speaks volumes.
It is the “something”.
That I long for.
Amidst the nothingness you provide.
Among the sea of chaos.
I wish to see you drown.
Maybe then.
You would have a drink to offer.
On your diet
I have starved
You have forbidden all things essential.
Where
Hope
Used to take the edge off of the pain.
The tears I rationed.
all have dried up like the well that held your capacity to care.
Simply put ,
I have lost all of the weight you placed upon my shoulders.


Because I finally took a bite of something sweet.

This life,
This
Wonderful.
Beautiful
Struggle.
To live.
And to breathe.
And
To love.
This.
Is life.
Mistakes.
Cracks.
Breaks.
Happen.
But life.
It goes on.
And on,
our bodies.
We wear our past,
Like
Paint plastered on the ceilings.
Too old and too hard to peel off.
Viridity
The days of true gold.
Where everything simply meant nothing.
Serendipity.
Those years were indelible.
How I miss those days.
Before I met you.
Before
I felt the agony of your absence.
Before
I learned the true meaning of philocaly.
That.
Was all
Before.
I knew from the beginning,
That when I found you,
I was only meant to lose you.
I learned to love you so that I could miss you.
You drank my poison,
And I drank yours.
I was icarus,
And you were the sun
I was a writer.
Who shed no tears.
But I bled on the pages for you.
Time
And time again.
And
I would do it.
Time.
And time.
Again.
To the ends of the earth.
I would go.
For you.
When our bodies meet the ground.
When we die.
Let us become part of the sky.
So that every time that it rains.
You.
Me.
We.
Are everywhere.
We couldn’t be when we were alive.
The places.
I would have taken you to.
The nights I would have spent with you.
Oh,
To be loved the way you love.
To find you in every melody.
To share the same moon.
Under the sky of stars I would have robbed for you.
This life,
This
Wonderful.
Beautiful
Struggle.
To live.
And to breathe.
And
To love.

This.

Is life.

I am not a person.
Not enough space
is filled by my presence.
To be considered
There.
Nobody bothers to say hello,
Or even
glance in my direction.
I am simply too little of nothing.
To be anything.
Important,
Or unique.
I was a madman's invention.
Built obsolete.
Prepared to sit on shelves
For years to come.
Society has made themselves clear.
Even if I tried my best.
It would never be enough.
I
would.
never.
be.
Enough.

You put me
“In my place.”
But really.
You misplaced me.
You seem to forget who I am
And where on your shelf I should go.

I used to belong to your collection of important things.
But you put me on the bottom in a box titled “Miscellaneous”
I’m not used to being down here.
It’s a little degrading.
Not as bright.

You never take these things out.
I’m not sure why you keep them, really.
But you know I don’t complain.
I don’t tell you to fix me every time you’ve dropped me.
And let me tell you.
It was a pretty high shelf to fall from.
I don’t have to tell you not to worry.
You don’t care enough to anyway.

I wonder if you got tired of me.
Maybe you grew bored.
Couldn’t teach me new tricks.
I didn’t have anything more to give.
My battery died.
My lights went out.
My voice button doesn’t work anymore.
Not that you listened when it did.
But you kind of just let me die.

And then told me it wasn’t your fault.

Except…

You never replaced my batteries.

dear mockingbird,
what made you swear silence?
it’s unlike your species to become selective mutes,
or, perhaps,
is it because you’ve tired of your sole performance?
you’ve become a broken record,
stuck on repeat:
the same song and dance.
you didn’t know what else to sing,
didn’t know any other tune.
this will become your swan song.

Growing up...
Thinking life's gonna be easy
Fun, friendship's're forever,
So what's they said

We got problems of our own
Trapped in our little bubbles
Stopped looking left or right
For help, realising we are all alone in the end

Nothin's wrong,
No need to be down own your knees
Some days when you're out of my orbit,
Meaning the funny white rabbit's chasing you to eternity
I got that, and that's okay
Just return to my side when everything's back alright
You're me friend, and my book won't let me change that

i’m haunted by her beauty.
i suppose it’s not natural to write about the ghosts
that reside in your home,
but that’s why they call it the supernatural, right?
or, perhaps it’s superficial;
i don’t even know her name.

i rent a modest cabin deep in the woods,
surrounded by only the wildlife.
i have no neighbors,
but that’s fine,
as the residence is rumored to be haunted;
i’ll have plenty of company.

the house-warming party toasted to good spirits,
however, none of those are here;
i appreciated the gesture anyway.
there’s a scream when a light bulb bursts in the kitchen.
at least i found humor in the play on words.