You wanna talk balance, huh?
You got a lecture to give,
and I’m not allowed to pour a drink
to get me through? Well ****,
if this ain’t ridiculous,
but I’ll listen. Nothing else to do
up here in the snow and the solitude and the shining.

You say things started alright,
and I nod, sip something unreal,
and say yes, my dear,
yes, perhaps I broke his arm
but I’ve vented the pressure
out of the boiler now.
And ain’t it a **** shame
that I don’t talk to Al any more?
‘Cept to sneer about the history
of a place that’s too far away to push
him back to drink.

So sure, tell me I’m unravelling,
and I’ll call you a *****
and you’ll lock yourself up in the room.
Give him the key, I’ll show him
that the **** in 217 is far worse
than a broken arm and a ruined career,
because this will take me away.

Who’s the other one inside me,
worming into a space
that I thought was mine?
Two in one body, a ******’ perfect
discount deal on everything
that can destroy a family;
check one, a son with a broken
arm and a fractured mind,
check two, a ***** for a wife,
and check three, me
the head of it all,
proclamation, divination, damnation
of the foundation of this stutter
looking over, overlooking,
a broken record skipping to the part
where I **** the pressure,
**** the boiler.

I’ll see you in the next one.
Fin.
.

On a night where no moon shines,
I lie and brood in my confines,
Nocturne's wolf has come to dine,
Gnashing canines with sharpened claws,
Over is night--devoured by the maw,
The wolf opens wide, an unhinged jaw,
I stare in awe, in saccharine fear,
A beastly roar is all I can hear,
Yet I feel no pain--Only a lonesome tear.

I open my eyes to a room bathed in black,
On the floor is a woman, in a dress of lilac,
She stands with a shiver, and turns me her back,
Dark hair covers cracked skin--porcelain but soft,
She stared at me gravely, shaking oft,
Then slowly she danced as I sat and watched,
She twirled, pranced, and spun, but once she botched,
Then she sat, knowing night had its victim notched,
The Ballet of Shadows had come to rest--
     --but not yet had my final test.

I slept again, and woke in the dark,
Now, there was a mirror, a saviour from stark,
Painted in white, it was fit for a monarch,
On top, a remark, a blackened skull,
My reflection itself, appearing so dulled,
My face was blank, and emotion was null,
My eyes were closed, but I could still see,
As I watched my smile twisting with glee,
And crimson nectar leaking through teeth,

The mirror shell cracked, my nerves were wracked,
From the mirror I retreat, but with me it backed,
My instincts raced, my psyche attacked,
The me in the mirror began to convulse,
Quickening was the beat of my pulse,
Beating like drums, a rhythm repulsed,
Then it stopped, the mirror froze,
And off to sleep I began to doze,
Not before my mirror had one last prose,

One finger raised--be silent, mouth closed.

Pain has always been there
To help remind us that we're alive.
But not all pain hurts the same.
A broken heart starts with a shock.
A bullet, a hole of fire.
A stab or slice, a sting.
A punch or kick, an ache.
But the worst pain isn't physical.
It's psychological.
Over time, you may forget the pain
Of being shot, stabbed, or punched.
But you'll never forget the words
That were said or the fear you felt.
The point is,
There are different types of pain.
But none of them hurt
or heal the same.

A million painted faces on a page of barren white
The awful newest symphony casts poison cross the hall
We found ourselves among a miser's quickly failing fight
The **** of aphrodite spans the conscience of us all

A hole through souls is burned until their psyche is left bare
The death to end all passions finds its way into the mind
A sense of dread and toxic gas begins to fill the air
We stand amongst our corpses and raise flags to e'er remind:

The sacrifices made by those before us shall not waste
A human mind cannot become a battleground of lies
The desperate isolation of a lover lonesome chaste
To frighten all opposing us, and who we most despise

A painting of normality remains upon the wall
The old conductor's growing old, his bones grow awful frail
We offer our condolences, though know that most of all
The new horizon's gleaming and it shines against the pale

Anew we birth ourselves into the wake of oceans pure
To see if we, against all odds, resist temptation's lure

Slumbering in my capacious tomb,
I dread the surrounding recesses.
I've carefully examined every room,
silence building into deafening excess.

A horrid intuition commands me now,
Something watches at the threshold.
Hours have passed without a sound,
But I'm no fool, silence, I withhold.

Feigning sleep, I bow my head,
allowing the stranger to approach my bed.
No longer a bugaboo, it draws its knife
springing forth like a cobra to take my life.

Snarling like a beast, I counter its jab
Horror marks its face as I ferociously grab,
Wrapping its head with my blanket,
I twist, and lay the beast to casket.

Every night I battle my beast
And never have I ceased
To terrify that familiar freak,
Haunting my subliminal sleep.

Aching chambers
Sullen froths
The raven angers
As hope is lost
Consumed oh hallowed mind
As the feeble and broken, cried

Beneath empty boardwalks
Townsmen bleeded across
Still I find myself in gawk
As the dawn of man drew close
Reality found me encased
In an existence duly erased

"Im the only one here right?"
Says a feminine voice
It was of a lost lover
To whom I never knew.

In a plane of consciousness
Submerged in repose
I sat there, cornered, enthralled
A living dream I am in
A dream I never arose.