It is never about the words I use,

The order,

Disorder,

It is the tangled tapestry between lines,

Try reading it,

Don't look,

Feel,

Inherently the unwritten ink runs darker.

When the sun goes down, darkness falls over the Earth,
and some nights are darker than others.
Children, afraid and crying for there parents
and begging them to get rid of the monsters they see in their closets and under their beds.
As they grow those monsters wither and die
become skeletons and lies.
Through the roads we use to age
and abuse in a desperate attempt to stay in one place.
Why keep walking?
It's not a choice
more like life is a plane rushing to the ground,
we are the pilots and where we land can not matter.
All that's important is how many homes are destroyed and much you pollute the sky.
As you try to write things like "Help"
or "Save Me" and "Please" all you get in return are Faceless souls screaming about the growing holes in there atmosphere,
and the chuckling of trees as they stuff themselves with your pain and past
and are glad for you to suffer more,
because the more you suffer the more polluted your smoke will become with each exhale of bad influences and terminal illness called life.

So what exactly is left at the end?
When the sky becomes darker with polluted clouds of past mistakes.
Sometimes the sky can be seen
and it is blue or the stars glittering,
but it's not i n your reach
you may only just look.
and some nights...
Some nights are darker than others.

You are my favorite thought
the one i search for when my mind looks for peace
who i imagine when i am sad/lonely/angry
you bring me peace/company/joy
and i love you
my other thoughts are not like you they are darker/political/ambitious
but you, you are calming and i can't not think of you

I have a crystal both darker and lighter,
Just gleaming; like illuminated sparkling
Beaded droplets of water, with a healing top.
I hold it to my chest though
And it seems faint, almost
As thou all that light and energy
Is just for the eyes; it's vibrant heart feels lost.
There is a black and white pouch
In my box, so I get it out to put the crystal in,
As if for safety while it is still healing.
This stone with so much beauty
Yet seemingly vague, you'd think
It was meant just for the eyes,
So very empty. Like soft rain, the color of
Every rainbow comes from the skies light,
Yet you can feel oh so silent and lonely.
Maybe I could find a place for this stone,
Perhaps I'll put it with green and gold
So it wont seem so empty, so alone...

My blood runs red when I bleed
You seem so full of hate even when you breathe
You don't seem to care
You seem unaware of the pain you inflict on others
You might suffer from a deceased mind
You might discover some day that it is effecting your insides
perhaps it might lead to necrosis
I wonder when you bleed does your blood run Blue instead of Red
I somehow feel sorry for you, a part of you already seems dead

I'm the kind
they warn
you about.
The ones who
can produce
a grin at the
simple idea
of one,
and who
can flip a
switch in a
blink of an
eye and
show you the
darker side
of life
you never
imagined
could exist.
-JRM

We escaped the night to find
That day was so much darker
For all our biggest fears and doubts
Were visible shapes much sharper.