blank pages are intimidating.

there, now it's got something in it.

and nothing, nothing feels so scary anymore.

To play the heartstrings plays a song that only we can hear,
To love the artist in words,

Every string that sings the easing pluck of fingers on the page,

To love a poet,
To sing and grow my wings unfold and brings the snow it,
Lingers...

Under my fingers.

The tremble of little, unspeakable things.

Speak to me your fears.
The Pen and paper rend and savor the bend and sway of a heart that dares to hear,

The black pours from the poet sword.

Fingered on the page I bend and wage my war,
Inked and torn the paper bore the tears.

To love the art,
The burns too sore to heal,

To love,
The start,
The pen and art that bleed apart the papers,
Your eyes reveal the arcs I forgot to read,
The swings of ease,
My mind rings a wicked song,

I squeeze the pages between my aching, bleeding fingers,
The ink stains my blood,
Black,
The sting,
The flood of feelings, the shaking dealings of thought.
You caught my sighs , you caught my lies,
Now sing to me a different song.

Red fades to grey,
The lines begin to grace my fingers,

The cuts now painting my pains upon the pages.
My rage subsides,

Under the gates of shining hell,
the wells of golden swell.

My eyes crash again.

And there you are.

For its takes its stance
Ending all hope by a single glance
A tiny dot that expands to be a blackhole
Ready to take control

**** that M0NST3R that's chasing me!
I'm tired of running like a guinea pig on a spinning wheel
It yearns for the tears that smells like steel
It swallows my words
And sometimes walks in herds
Chasing the sense of VVLN3R@B1L1TY

I don't give a **** if that M0NST3R has voice lines and looks hot
I'm more worried about trying to find the keys while the M0NST3R is trying to eat me alive!
The house is secured, as if I were playing Granny
The locks in the house says I have to wait until the next decade
To use them!?

Don't stop running when I need to be medicated, hello?
M0NST3R has bitten my neck
And it won't give me another sec
Before it comes for another B1T3!

"faint
faint
faint
sleep
sleep
sleep
my dear child
let the bed bugs bite"
IT KEEPS TELLING ME IN WHILE THE WORLD IS BLURRING TO A HAZE
and the water drops
.

An aching song
replaces the windful soul
of branches clanking on
to rhythms growing old-
-
the residue
of explosive tunes
drowns out the view
of old- now new.
-
there’s so much red in the sunset
so much red in the onset
so much red in the eyelids
so many tears still falling,
there’s not much green in the audience,
much more green in faucet
hidden green in the closet
too many tears still falling.
-
white hills with wheels
made of steel and fear
look to **** and steal
while the white hills men cheer.
-
gold dripping water
from self righteous fathers
get stored far from the thirsty
so they can gain and barter.
-
there’s no way to heal everyone
unless we become many ones,
reaching out to hold the youth
from plummeting into a deadly sun.
there aren’t many ones,
yet far too many anyones-
ghosts too selfish to lift a finger
or gain souls to breathe a helpful song.
-
when will good will
and will power will
something more than death
over every hill?
when will good will
and will power will
something innocent
instead of thrilling kills?
when will good will
and will power will
something truly good
to be a hearty fill?
when will good will
and will power’s will
be enough to keep us pure
enough to love still?

Measure every word,
Every use of punctuation,
Every emoticon and emoji
Down to the smallest gram

Think twice. No--
Thirteen times,
Before opening your mouth.
And dont talk too much or you're self centred

Check every message, comment.
Nothing too harsh
Nothing insensitive
Nothing that might scare them away
Or tarnish their view of you

Write
Delete
And rewrite
Then quickly send before you chicken out