Maybe the greatest injury yet
was all too soon after we met
and with eyes and ink still wet
you tried to **** me with the alphabet

I'm not sure if death is an injury
but from the Rockies to the Yangtze
If you read any Bukowski
You may never rip that knife free

There are those poems that complete you
and also those that abscise;
Taking a little love from behind your ribs
and a little light from behind your eyes

i've skinned me knees and i've watched them bleed. i didn't do it on purpose, it just happened when i fell for you.

The brontide words
Of a wounded man
Echo still,
Silent
From when they began
In this place.
...
A voice, not his!
But an Injured man anew
Casting the echoes back
To the stranded,
The echoes remain
Repeated in a new voice
From another wounded man
With brontide dreams

{Trigger warning; self injury}

it's time
for me to end it all
it's time to cut off the parts which meant nothing at all
i will force myself
to go down a dark hole,
visit my past and feel the pain all over again.
i will watch myself
struggle to breathe
as my demons **** me
as my fears choke me
as another sword pierces my heart
as i destroy everything right from the start.

Hello again Poetry I missed you,hope you missed me,
where'd the Sandman Irish Dragon go,it's no mystery,
but unfortunately last Sunday I just dropped,
woke up to the Sirens,Ambulance,cops,
Cause I'm a Wanted Man in a Dangerous place,
it could have been a bullet getting fired for my face,
folks thought it was a Stroke(of bad luck or bad blood),
and if I could tell you truly what happened,I would.

You see a couple of months ago the Armored car I was in,
got smashed open by a 10 ton truck like a tin,
getting stepped on by an Elephant(can you say Insurgent?),
so at the time my spine suffered and I wound up with a Surgeon,
in a third world hospital,doing 1st world miracles,
an angel of mercy who returned me my Spirit and,
my life force,my good left arm was restored,
but I had to come home to rest on Irish Shores.

And when I got home I got embroiled in the family life,
no more danger(well except the ongoing Drugs war Fight)
and the Spite that comes daily in an average family,
the Irish begrudgery what do you MEAN you write Poetry?
So the Dragons wings were clipped,my good left arm was numb,
and without Hello Poetry i would have succumbed,
to the poxy oxy's that've made junkies out of friends,
or the other poison that's sold as a means to an end.

So my blackout and brief stay in an overcrowded ward,
left me stuffed with rhymes,filled to the brim with words,
so thank you to the Nurses who helped me back on my feet,
its the Return of the Dragon,Sandman NEVER faces Defeat

(Talk to you all again soon,my arm is still a bit sore,but I'm nearly 100%.)