You call me girl
And I call you boy.
You are you
and me, I am me.

Yet we are the same.
We are cruel,
to others, yet to ourselves.
We are bad, which is fine.
I never liked the good.
For it was boring, useless,dull.

You call me *****.
I call you *****.
You with your black inked skin.
devilish tattoos, and piercings.

You smile at me and I cannot help but smile back.
We are not happy, for we do not know the meaning.
But we take the little joy we get with each simple ****, smoke, fight.
For that is what life is for you and me.

We have learned, that the weak are the most brave when faced,
And the strong, are the most devious.
We are the strong, for to be brave is useless.
Why be given, when it is so much more fun to take.

We were once scared of the monsters when we were children,
we once fought for the good.
But then we gave up when we saw the evil was to much
and now we smile, laugh , drink with the monsters, because,
we realized that there was no good, only the illusion of sanity.

But now we know better, for to be insane is to be sane.
We are bad.

you call me girl
I call you boy
you call me *****
I call you *****

You are wretched
and me
I am Wicked.

We are both of the evil.
We are both Insane.

||||

At a stroke I feel the heat
Winding pulse of electricity
Beneath me I feel grounded, thunderstruck
My love abounded
So wherefore am I bound?

To tread lonely is no cause for fanfare sound
And yet to know warmth is to know bitter lacking
For in the lean times when friends seem far away
All I can feel is that maybe I was not good enough

At a stroke I banish these thoughts
But I am ill prepared to walk
The twisting thread, the tightrope-drop
And alack, I curse that I should be forgot

I hate that I should have to fight
The inner me with all my might
Who at a whim should change his coat
That in the shade I suffer'd stroke.

Nick

I wanna run away from here
It sound super simple, I really would do it
But the sole thing keeping me is fear

I wanna run far from my parents
They're the sole problem keeping me from being happy
Such rules and expectations in which they demand adherence

I wanna run away to be with you
Thats all we need and itll fix everything thats wrong
Right now Im struggling...with no means to push through

I wanna run right now
But I wont have a home to come back to if I do
This is something my parents just wont allow

I would run to you, run far from this place, far from everything
But I would be pulled back by my parents in the back of a policecar no doubt
They would confiscate everything I have as means of anything
Which means id never be able to see or hear from you ever again
I dont want that...it wouldnt be a life worth living, but then again how is now any better?

I want to be there as soon as possible and you know that
But the fear instilled through blackmail in me keeps me planted here
There are other perspectives that I am forced to look at

Dont think Im not trying
Dont think Im abandoning you...
Im not..,
Abandoning you believe it or not...would be coming to you cause once I return youre gone for good

If life is the journey, then we are pilgrims,
hands bound and blindfolded,
stumbling to our graves with moments of clarity
and threats of immortality, scattered along the way.

It’s all do or die, no second roll of the dice,
where the blind lead the blinded with promises of paradise
through the killing fields, we walk this knife.
Conform to live, obey to survive.

Not while I’m still breathing will this world ever see me to my knees,
we’re all born on death row, I just wear my sentence on my sleeve.
Your vicious icons of god are nothing special,
these devils you unleashed.
If it’s blood that you want, you won’t get a drop out of me.

I have decided this day not to give a
crap about the machinations of others
whose notions concern me just as much
as I care
about falling down stairs or
running into walls
or hurting myself
on purpose, which itself deviates
dramatically
day by day.

ice is in the air
it fills all space
and leaves
   nothing
untouched

the noncomittal voice
of an unfamiliar priest
bounces off
the hard air
   unheard

dark clad people
  white faces
frozen to the cemetery ground

someone
who has not yet
fully understood
softly
   defiantly
places a flaming bouqet
of red roses

my gaze
cuts through
the strange flowers
to the time
that was

Written not to thine appraisal accord;
Words that aim to torch the infernal loom,
Seeking the world of sorcery and sword
Unconfined to thine astringent courtroom.

Methinks thy hackles must surely be raised
For hours laboured, tempering such sleight...
Yet adamant this pen, wielder unfazed
Mirrors many thou haplessly indict.

Scholars of insight construed only thee-
So feebly traced was this artistic lie;
A labyrinth from which my muse soars free.
Minoan mentor, dare not I deny:

It may be an Icarian Ascension,
But stands it staunchly, lacking pretension.

Old gnarled branches  .  .  .
Fingers clutch, knuckles to cold,
  .  .  .  Apple tree in snows.

i will
rise above the fray
and slay the beast
that keeps me at bay.

i will
rise above the fray,
no longer do i hide behind the glimmer of the cosmos.
i am the night and day.

i will
rise above the fray.
become the flower and the flame.
i am the hunter
the world?
my prey.