Burning like fire
raging inside.
Storming the breach,
torching it all.

Forget the love
forget your face.
Forsake your heart
leave it behind
and tear it apart.

The crossroads of mortality
the fork in the road.

The reason of life
the cause of death.
The fang of the snake
the jaw of the beast.
The grip of hatred
the sting of desire.

Higher it goes
up, up, up.
Higher and higher
up, up, up.

Stinking, rotting filthy decay
Filthy piles stacked,
up ,up, up,

The heights of sin
the glory of the well done deeds.

The ruin
the fall.
The rise
the run.

Up, up, up.

Farther then before.
More and more.
Farther still
to break, your will.


Farther then life,
quicker then the last breath.
Faster than your end,
horrid as your final hour.

Your heart beating faster
then twin turbine engines.
You explode in a million and one pieces.

You fall face down
amidst the broken shattered life,
that once belonged to you.

Goodbye, goodbye
the angels cry.
As you ascend into eternity
up, up, up.

Up, up, up
as you fly into eternity,
as you fall into the endless.

I'm wide awake, with this screamin' in my head
fairies dancing in my stead.
Body over-heating, I just need to get away.
All I want is to be free again,
running with the wind and taking flight.
But instead, I'm being held down by these chains
and struggling to break free.
And now again,
I'm lost with all the things that I
left behind so long ago.
All I want is to be free again,
one day I'll fly away and leave this all behind
to a yesterday that no longer exists.
These screams will stop and the fairies will fall,
no longer will I be surrounded by these lies.
And this emptiness inside will disappear.
No regrets for the choices I have made,
only for the ones that never had the chance to be made.

What is the last poem that I will ever read?
Make it amazing, so I can sleep.

Give me a mountain, give me a stream,
Give me the sky, drop me in dream.

Do I see the Raven or To Whom the Bell Tolls?
The House of the Seven Gables seen as it falls.

If there is any heavens by e.e. Cummings,
Listen very closely, the angels are humming

I feel my final breathes, leaving my soul.
The final poem that read was one of my own.

I'm not from here,
I was never from here.

It's time to return home.

Looking at the walls,
A group of ballerinas,
Dancing until the world ends.
Their feet in perfect form
And their open hands.
Why do they not dance for me?

The world is dancing,
The people are singing,
But I feel as though my life is ending.

Tonight,
Feeling a little poor,
I'm like an animal
With my head hanging out the windows.

It's time to return home.

This is my final song,
My final song,
Profound thoughts
And dancing...

...until the world ends.

The wind blew softly
Wiping her hair in all different directions
Making her hair change colors
As the sun struck it at different places

The waves struck against the shore
Water splashing onto his shirt
Slowly soaking it to the bone
Causing him to shiver

The leaves fell slowly
Blurring together all the colors
Scarlet, blood orange, golden yellow, a dark green
They stood together
Watching as the sky they once knew
Fell to the ground

She smiled a sad smile
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders
Trying to keep her from falling like the sky

But no matter how hard he tried
She blew away with the wind
Disappeared like the waves
Fell from the sky like the leaves
Finding a final resting place
With her thoughts and feelings

o.g.

death is
just

cold.

not the fading memories
leaching, lost, into the soil,
and warped as jaded speech
woven through the livings tales.
death is seclusion from the sun,
to stall, to stop, to lose ones way,
forever left at last breaths point,
as time continues on its way.
a coldness deep, to lock in place,
persona lost, caricature replaced.
unknowing darkness keeps
the new unknown,
as coldness claims
the final home.

(for Kiwi - 06/08/2009)

I want to follow.
So I can lead.
So I can encourage.
So I can
breathe
and show the way
to the breath of life.
But the words
seem hollow
and my works
are like the products of inept inventors
falling apart before inception.
They tumble from my mouth
and rattle through my brain
never reaching my hands and feet.
My heart
still healing
sometimes flutters with doubt.
I try to shut it out....
but, God, please!
I'm not asking for easy
for less pain
or more progress.
God, I just want to know you.
Don't let my sometimes hollow
plea to follow
betray my plodding feet...
If I should stumble,
let me stand again!
With you, I can.
My life,
so short,
so miniscule,
but not meaningless.
Your plan is too complex;
the jigsaw of your perfect work
the infinitesimal steps
leading
one by seeming insignificant one
to the final future for us all
where we will bow before you!
Crying out praises!
Singing Hallelujah!
Let me be that small part you have for me.
I want to follow.

Death isn't cold. They lied. Death is the one time that people truly celebrate you. The one time that people shed tears as they run the memory gauntlet that is You.
Death isn't empty. They fled. Death is the portal between this existence and the celestial playground. Run, jump, play...
Death isn't hard. They miscalculated. Death is the easiest thing you will ever do. Though the path may be long and hard, the end will prove effortless.
Death isn't final. They erred. From the grips of death comes the renewal of souls. Focus becomes clear, truth becomes real, death becomes life.
Death isn't death.