The beast that needs to be tamed lives
within yourself. All the other despair
is smog being blown away by the invisible
mouths of those who, with cries and silence,
are trying to breath and move around
under water, trying to think which was
that one turn that brought them here
and started the person that became.

All these right-and-wrongs that are said
and also those who remain silent,
all these intentions toward a saved life,
and all these doors that are being opened
and closed, are so much like the efforts
of a writer creating a character for
a book that will be finished on a deathbed
and surrounded by teary-eyed beasts in human skin.

Inside everyone
Is there own little beast
You, it seeks to own
It, you seek to best

This beast can be anything
From a wolf in shadows
To the void and what it may bring
Only you truly know

It comes at the worst times
To haunt your every move
It's voice chimes
So that at your worst, you lose

But the beast has no control
Of your actions and thoughts
It has no true role
In your do's and do not's

It is merely a voice
That you can listen to
Or use your choice
And bid it adieu

The beast and the fool the star of the game ready, set, pay to rid the toxic, to live without restrain.

Done, done and over the jesters eyes big and older, standing still The fool knowing the order. Clever, quiet, listening Patiently ready to wait.

The jester knew this tired game and playfully asked the beast to come down the hall, she used her magic and made him crawl,

The beast down on all fours, rolling around, his back up and face down making himself happy reciting the lyrics of the jesters sound.

The beast roared as he helped himself the jester silence watching in disbelief how selfish his lies, how deep his deceit.

The jester let the beast show her door as he thought he had won once more… The jester took a leap as she needed him to think…

1. Sweet and all fun.
2. He wanted to eat, say anything to get his treat
3. Stuffed, full and cold: tired from his chore then his anger would start to bore.

Click, click, click. One. Two. Three.

The plan fell into place, the jester watched the motion repetitive like waves of the ocean. Predictable as the morning sun.

Now the joker was ready to run. Her eyes filled with tears, The beast set the joker free as if came up with the idea all alone.

The jester was thought to be the fool, playing the games, anything to please, Her words did not matter, as she was his joke
She watched the beasts face beam full and bright to dark and hidden like a moon on a crisp October night.

She started the count down knowing the steps of what would come next and the fool clever in all of her jest.

Shocked at how easy it was to predict, the spell drifted over like the clock struck twevle the beast turned cold making sure he had the power to behold.

Repeating his roar over and over again. The jester continued to run, away so fast, grabbing everything to never look back.

She rid anything that had his mark knowing the beast never consume her space as he knew his doomed lonely fate.
She runs so far away. She did not come to play.

She came to put an end to all, letting him do. So easy to push her so far away using her rules the beast did totally play.

She runs so hard, so fast, so far. She never ever Will he used for tricks and treats for this **** boy beast has had his last feast.

I was louder once.
A beast with a need to feast,
but now I tamp my rampages.
One too many times I leapt
Over and through the fire
Bounding and barreling
Obnoxiously snarling as I caught
my dreams between my jaws and ripped,
To find their warmth evaporating,
my **** growing cold and sticky
as it would dribble and dry,
sweet and cracked down my breast and forearms.
I learned to pace. To release. To settle.
Not to take too many shots, coax, tease, or purr.
Not to bite, howl, or grin.
Not to get too cozy when I stargaze, tell embarrassing drinking stories, or speak my impressing words.
Not to stand on tables,
Not to shout out of car windows,
Not to dance like the drunken Maynads.
And I am quieter for it.
More intact.
Less alive.
I miss that wild beast.
I feel her gnawing at the cracks in my skin
begging me to don the wolf coat.
And some nights,
When the moon is right
I do.
And if I'm not careful,
Fastidiously luring and caging her
with promises of "next time"
until I've re-sewn my skin
I'm afraid that she'll eclipse me,
Careening through the night
And never returning.
I along with her
Never to return.

every word
is bitter now
each slowly
turns to smoke
some fires take
too long to die
these ashes choke my throat

But bright hope begins to clear the flu
as brooms do sweep the hearth
stronger flames burst bright anew
And joy dances!
Sing my heart!