a warrior poet
Reflecting upon thyself
In bed alone visited by someone else
Golden in color niether man nor woman
I was not afraid
With a wave of its hand
Two of me divided and I was transported
To another place
Where all were lost
Lustfull, afflicted; some even possessed
My heart was heavy with echoes
Hopeless is this!
A thunder of words interrupted my doubt
"Yet the worst of these is laughter"
A jester rose from the stone ground
His teeth brilliant white fangs
He whispers to cops and gangs
Judges and jury.
And they scoffed the weak.
Meaning to them was bleak.
Because its power we all seek.
Artform is identified.
And innocence is part of mine.
But also destruction,
Of that jokers function.
The devil is my foe.
And I will not be laid low.
Again. Together;
We win.
                   He won. he lost. We win.

Main street
The ebb of traffic leaves me sick

This is a city of repetitious fits
Transparent monotony

the bridge you passed has bodies under it, get over your fear of lying and get on your tummy and let's play wheelbarrow with those stems I scooped up from CVS and pre-cut for you before I got to the front door. Not only do I like that your mom likes that I like to get you them; you wear how content you are with we based on how you meet the needs of a poppy or a daffodil. Nothing does buckets of flowers good like a little bit of teenage romance. But we're not still digging the crotch out of our fingers or filing down or ****** cards anymore, now are we? We have multimedia, social networking, label, after ******* label and acquaintance both tertiary and intimate to reconcile differences, the advice we've never asked for but always been given. No one will ever tell me what I deem tolerable, especially you. I know that after saying how you've never disappointed me you must have felt some guilt, an unintentional result of once again attempting my position in thwarting any emotional pain that continues to be unresolved. We spoke of being funny and pushing boundaries but not breaking our circle of contentedness. But instead by sleeping in our arms until the side on which you lay molds my arm inside of it, and we are made one.

I wish there was something left to say, an utterance to explain what it is I feel right now.
This second.
Feelings of loneliness creep around me, even though you sit merely inches away.
Hopeless, I have broken the stick and the white flag is raised.
Sobbing, I cannot cry with a tear, but I assure you, I am sobbing.
The dryness in my throat, allows no further arguing.
Can you not see, I am sinking.
I am destined to, why are you here to mock me, try to save me.
I will not let you anyways.
Defeat, I refuse to accept anything but.
I close my eyes now, making amends that this will be the last time.
The last time.
But it isn't.
You will remain here, and so will I.

Bathed in a bruised fire-glow,
The gypsy's ball shows
The future.

A life for the wicked,
OH, the sins it depicted!
Nature wins.