She went down the pathway
Of the quarter moon,
Its sorrow bleeding with gilded
Protection from a star's hopeful
Glance, she bled darkness
From a deep pain
And her lips like ruby petals
Sang her lamemt:

   As the grey day bloomed
   And my dreams grieved,
   I saw your eyes retracing
   Every desire I conceived.

   I heard the footsteps
   For and ending to my sorrows,
   Such a fool,
   I thought you'd stay past tomorrow.

   I put out the lanterns
   Searching for my heart's grace,
   But now that you have slithered,
   Its gone away.

    Love's virtue dead
    Hung on a thread of tears,
    I bleed out my soul
    And built walls of fear.

    The delicate red of crimson
    Fire burnt me whole,
    There was once a woman,
    But scarlet pain eats the soul.

My little black book is dusty,
The names are smeared and
Most of them were landline numbers.
For you youngsters,
Get on your parents lap and ask em
To tell ya what landlines were:
    And I hate your love poem
    Because I know they are real,
    I need a girlfriend,
    Maybe I forgot how that feels.
    
    I hate your love poem,
    Its really quite good,
    But the t reminds me I'm all
    Alone, alone in da hood.

    I hate your love poem
    Because I don't know any girls,
    And yeah some are corny,
    Some make me wanna hurl!

    So don't get it wrong,
    Please try to understand,
    I'm just a little jealous,
    Alone and doing what I can.

I do not know what is real,
Are there words real,
Real the poem,
Are you real,
you that reads this?

I question myself,
Everything and everyone,
The only answer I have
Is that I am alive between
The verses.

Into the night
Revealing all of the pleasures
With its hand of shadows
Uncovering what one hides
In the dark.

A blow of sky
With it's silence that burns
Between spaces when one cannot
Sleep, the cry of insomniac
Blood straying from sleep.

Into the night
One flees from things;
Or runs to them away from light,
The moist of the earth as
The back touches in a nameless
Affair between skins.

All the lust,
It burns with passion
Like a dream speaker whom
Walks with sinful nature.

And the kiss is a wound,
The fever of the moment
Turns into a black unholiness
That makes one wonder
Why the bad feels
So good.

Into the night,
All that is left from the parched
Thoughts under a bankrupt sun
Touches the inner animal,
Floods the moment
In the dead of darkness
And dies upon the touch.

The wind wears your body;
I open the curtains of your being,
My touch wears your skin,
The spectre of your silhouette
Is a ghost of my desire:

We tear the night apart.

I see the River made of time
And water
And remember that time is
A fork of rivers,
And I know we are like that river;
Dissolution into an ocean of souls.
I see the bleak nature of my mind,
Natural as it is,
I wish to break from this line of thought:

    To be aware in my dreams,
    And to know the fear
    That we call death is but
    Another sleep into another dream.
    To be in the here of the now,
    To rage against the days
    Into the passion of my life
    And celebrate every breath I take.

To find the sorrowful gold
Which is poetry,
Immortal fire of my soul
And rain the embers of words
Upon the page like the
Thunder and lightning in a
Sudden storm.

    To love once again,
    Feel her essence over me,
    As if her body hovers
    Just above me as to feel
    Her electrical current run
    Through every cell that feels.
    
And I know time is a river,
One that never ends,
It shimmers with every
Memory one ever makes,
And every drop is a life the
Soul partakes,
We are born again
Where the river begins.

I awoke covered in sweat,
The steam rising from my body,
The light skims in through the curtains;
A small murmur of breath escapes
Into the enormous solitude
As I think about all that is wrong
With me:
I panic because I'm depressed again,
The light is too far from me
And my body craves the dead mans sleep.
The silence is full of noise
And what I hear is myself thinking,
I cannot run away from thought,
The silence is deafening.
      What can I do in my darkness?
      Sadness of the abyss,
      The hole inside me filled with
       Sorrow's song.
And I break from myself,
I try to capture the positive attitude,
That foray into psychological betterment,
The ragged form of relief...
   OK, I pick up my bones,
   Flipping the switch I see my pen,
   2a.m.,great wings of black full
   Of my epileptic thoughts seize
   The page, littered with pieces
   Of me I fill the paper with shadows,
   A simple verse will not suffice,
   But the immenseness of emptiness
   Has become full of something's
   Verses, write away,
   Write away the darkness....

It comes, it stays, it goes and flees
Hand in hand with your hope,
I reach out my hand and I cannot
Fathom the waters murky essense,
I want to be happy!
What does that mean?
The lights are there, but they seem
Faint and faroff, it swells my eyes,
The tears of an unending journey,
At times I smile at all the pain,
These words, these words of myself,
They sail inward, as if to the source,
The source of what?
    I **** the lights after all the words
    Have filled three pages,
    They bled me dry,
    Tears and ink mixed with pieces
    Of my inner reflections,
    Who will know or even care to read?
The thought scorns me,
I lay down, the silence grew silent,
A release of pain and sorrow,
That is my little death,
My little resurrection,
Everyday.

Everyone has an answer,
But there are too many questions.
Not to be deluded by hope,
But inspired by it.
To know that we are not alone
But by choice,
Which in of itself is the greatest gift/curse
We have all endured.
And the lesser of two evils
Is still wicked,
But the integrity of man is murky
Without witnesses.
And we are the dream inside the reality,
      We sever the humanity
Because a person is not dangerous,
      People are.

It is an ugly thing to think
That we cannot deliver ourselves
From our own ghosts that
Sing the same song.
      But the true atrocities
Are that love in this universe
Is not necessarily a universal thing.
So I say reflect the beauty around you,
The moment's truth and that is real,
That which loves you in return,
The child in their purest joy,
That which is close,
All the littlest things.
And that is a dream realised,
Love that,

Or drown in the gallows of man's
Darkened life.

Why not delve into
The beauty of trees,
The teasing air at your face,
Fragrance of the subtle varieties
That Spring's greenery offers?

     The precipice of the flower,
Rain like gentle kisses,
Its song sings to me!
    Does it not speak to you?

Get out of your hole!
Its fresh outside and you smell
Like mothballs and Cheetos!
Turn off the puter!
Live now, text later!

    Were it not for the natural
Fire that burns inside,
The taste of things reborn,
The sky that never leaves
    And the birds that speak to us,
Were it not for these things,

There would be no beauty after Winter.

I have three words in my throat,
One that I cannot set free,
Though its passionate suffering
Devours my spirit,
If I say it it would flame
The untamed hearts,
Fell the spirits,
But it stands at the tip
Of my tongue.
This is why I am unworthy,
Each maddening breath I cannot
Say it,
Until I see the Man,
His blood coursing out of His body,
The spit at His feet,
The hate at thrown at His Spirit,
Until I swallow the hurt,
Until I tear and let it all go,
This is who I am,
This is my faith,
I must recognize the Truth,
Thankyou Christ!!
I fall to my knees as I let
The faith resurgent in me,
I know that I know,
And so bled the Lamb.