it becomes me.
i am it.
we blend in harmony,
you and me.

a bird with clipped wings
am i;
no desire to fly,
nor the strength.
i become nothing.
who am i,
now that i am alone?
my mouth opens,
but i no longer have any breath.

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Superficiality
Similarity

the room is filled.
toys,
candy,
music.
everyone is there,
smiling.

i awaken,
and
it's only you
that i see.

like an animal caught
by it's prey
am i.
trampled,
crushed,
small,
used,
and beaten,
discared
without question.
how can i live
in a world
where i do not
belong?

i hate humans,
i said to Him.
He pondered
and became
sad.
He loved them,
though,
as His own,
but they are
full of
hate.

i see the bright light
through my closed eyes.
the warmth of
heaven
fills me.

when i open my eyes,
though,
you are here,
in front of me,
and i am alone
in darkness.

the bright lights
dance in the rain.
a dark figure
is in the shadows.
it's large body
dances with the
lights,
demonically.
im scared,
but it cant hurt
me
behind these bars.

There once was a time when wooing women with carefully crafted words was a grand purpose. Significant sentiment, conveying desperate desire and intimate intent, were the staples of the ardent young man. His only recourse was to face the object of his affection, and, with tremulous tone and generous gesture, convey the earnestness of his cause from his heart to hers.
These matters of love should perfectly pierce her heart with incisive inflection and amorous articulation. Instead, our mobile, modulated, mute-able media turns awry this enterprise of great moment and dulls its course.
I now live in an age of digital despair where ghostly static and fast-food conversation are the new calamity of so-longed life. How much easier to bare the pangs of despised love when confronted by its whips and scorns, rather that face the eternal imagination of empty airwaves.