I don’t want them.

I’m scared to sleep again because that’s where the dreams live
My dreams don’t know that hope feels like death
That thoughts of you need to be closely filtered,
monitored, redirected and pushed away
Lest I start crying and not stop until
my body has lost all of its water in tears

My dreams are where I remember
you played on my body like a jungle gym
Where every kiss seared my soul

The big dream has yet to be told
that no one is coming to the party
and it is still building the venue

The dreams are where
memory, fantasy and hopes grow
in fertile soil without knowing
there is no sun to feed them
and the water is running dry

Time is returning to me
And you’re gone

Lost in his thoughts as his grieving heart cry
The King gazes upon the heaven's light
Praying to the illuminating moon
To let the sleeping lotus flower bloom
One more time under this late midnight sky

Longing for his sleeping Queen's safe embrace
His Highness hopes his love can return time
When the flowers still bloom along the path
The birds sing no grieving songs in the air
And the sun still shines in its golden rays

Time spent alone living in this  lifetime
Only sorrow continues to bring life
In the garden his heart remains to beat
Longing for his sleeping Queen's sweet breathing
His Highness hopes his love can return time

Yet, the King's sorrow grew with the season
Even the light cease shining and comes night
His sorrow, never withdrawn from his mind
And in his dreams, grief remained to remind
The reason to keep on living is gone

Lost in his thoughts as his grieving heart cry
His Highness hopes his love can return time
When the flowers still bloom in the garden
The birds sing alluring songs in the air
And the moon still shines in its silver rays

Longing for his sleeping Queen's loving heart
His Highness hopes his love can awaken
His Queen, his love, from her eternal sleep
Yet, the King's love can't bloom the dead flower
There, death remains to the lotus flower

Lost in his thoughts as his grieving heart cry
The King crys upon the heaven's moonlight
Gazing to the illuminating light
To let the sleeping lotus flower bloom
One more time under this late midnight sky

If pressed, I wouldn’t say that I’m unhappy
To leave one home for another,
But that I’m living in the future
And thusly have no control over my surroundings,
For they do not–might not ever–exist, and the I today and the I of June
Are distant relatives.

So, if further proposed the question
Of whether or not I grieve,
I’d reply that this town is like a loved one
Who I shall only visit on leap years,
And decisions are as deaths.
When I go, I’ll leave a piece behind forever.

If asked, I might not disclose
That the fresh wound of impatient joy harbors a quiet fear
Of disappearing into Ventnor City
From the hearts of those who are still in mine.

Yet, should one wonder
If I might reconsider,
I’d reply that decisions are as new lives.
When I arrive, I’ll weep with uncertainty.
I’ll meet the I of June on the shoreline.
I’ll feel the boardwalk under my feet and realize, with a start,
I’m home.

Death is a beautiful thing.
It brings an end to all living things
And brings darkness into a world of light

It can bring people together, comforted in their grief.
Others, forever torn by the sorrow they now carry.

Each star in the sky reflects light from their crumbling core,
Falling apart from the inside out.
Yet we still find beauty in each fragile twinkle.
Perceptions change, so do we.

When we die, the earth consumes our very soul.
One with the soil that nourished us for so long.
Trees wildflowers spring from the bones,
reflecting the joy we once brought
In this way, we return what was borrowed.
Give thanks for the life we live.
Nature, though brutal, is famed for its extravagant beauty.
Why is our own mortality not viewed the same?

When I am gone, do not mourn me.
I am in the birds that sing,
The grass that grows,
The silence before dawn.
I am everything that was, and everything that will be.


Death is a beautiful thing.
The final question, the last journey.
An ending no living creature can escape

What if paradise is bristling with jungle and water?
Flat planes or marsh?
What if paradise is a endless city of palaces and wealth?
What if paradise is nothing at all and we cease to exist?

If you look closely, you can see the fire behind the eyes.
A slow smoulder or a blaze of light.
Is this is the soul, that is often spoken of in the world of religion?
Or rather, the raging life force that keeps our complex bodies
moving forward?

Watching that candle burn down to nothing,
Shrink to barely a dew drop of warmth,
is like watching the ocean draining.
Impossible, but very obviously happening, right before your eyes.
And when it’s gone, all you can ask, is why?
Why me? Why them?

Take a minute and ask yourself this.
Why is that strong fire within so soon forgotten once it’s spent?
Each and every happy memory..tainted.
Nothing left of the one you’ve lost but an image.
A frail hunched body.
Sunken in eyes, pale skin.
Look closer.
You may recognize the loved one you once laughed with.

A day may come when all those you have loved are gone,
And the quiet spots in life feel all the more lonely.
Cultivate your mother's favorite flowers,
Plant a bush over your pet’s favorite spot.
If you truly hold something in your heart,
It will always be there,
Kept safe until it is time to go.

Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
Everyday a soul is lost

Souls of love
Souls of lust
Souls on endearment
Souls of trust

Souls full of knowledge
Leave people like us
With questions unanswered
And feelings unmastered

The void of their absence
Still lingers with longing
Tear drops of silence
will forever keep falling.

August feels like a joke
Like a text you can't write
A call to your mom
Like rot in your stomach
It's that burning in your throat
In the bathroom on your hands and knees
Like lighter fluid on your clothes

Conversations with your head underwater
Like nothings sharp
Friends just out of reach
Laying right around the corner
Like they're playing hide and seek
Like they'll come out from their rooms
Like you just have to wait
Just a little bit longer
Like they didn't lose their son,
Like they didn't lose their daughter

You could pull the wheel and tip
Closing your eyes on the highway
In silence for the whole ride home
Like coming down from a bad trip
Like staying up for 48 hours
It's planning your escape
It's hoping you get hit

It feels like crying so hard you laugh
Like waiting all night to sleep
A timer ticking
Like you're a bomb
Like catching glimpses in stranger they'll never meet

The act of grieving.
It’s unlike anything I’ve
Ever had to go through.
Survived through 17 years of
Mental torture at the hands of
A mother who should have loved me;
But alcoholism had her by the throat
          ****.
That never received any justice.
Physical abuse and mental abuse
For years by a man who should have
Cherished me but instead hated me.
12 hours of labor with no medication.
No relief of the spine crushing pain.
And yet the simple act of you dying.
             Of you leaving me behind,
                           In this world without you.
Has crushed and devastated me.
     Leaving me
                          annihilated and listless.
And without

My best friend, my cheerleader, my fan, my sounding board, my dad, my confidant, my partner in crime, my moral backbone, my courage, my strength, my forever compass, my mother figure, my only family.

I don’t know how to exist here.

The act of grieving,
Has left me tired and restless.
And I’m unsure if I’ll finish the act
Or the act will finish me.
   Exit stage…..
                                                        ­        Right.