Words gone unsaid, hanging in the air like overripe fruit waiting to fall; a sickly sweet guillotine made of things past their prime, cutting through the awkward silence. Pen and sword are equally sharp, being two sides of one coin. Crying disguised as fatigue tears melt into the crowd of rain and sweat; blend in don't smile don't laugh. clouds hide skyfuls of hurt I hide my face in my hands I hide my smile, tuck it away to be used later. happiness preserved for special occasions sadness used only in private. changing faces like changing clothes has become second nature, but I cannot hide from my emotions .

a child with a heart as red and raw and open as a wounded hand, goes the story, but this is not a story and this is a wound that won't heal. I stem the flow of ******, red hot emotion and hope for the best. It's claustrophilia, not agoraphobia; look under the table and you will see my private pains, my jealousy pressed between the pages of this book, emotion folded up small and placed in a niche no one can reach. I was meant for moonlight, the low road, "a heartbeat in a volley of heartbeats", so to speak. I used to think solace and solitude meant the same thing and they do. To me.

Dark shadows creeping behind me,
Leaving scratches on my back.
Cold fingers on my shoulders,
Pinning me against the sink.
Forcing me to watch in the mirror,
While they steal my dignity.
Each movement bring closer,
To the brink of suicide.

But I've been here before,
This isn't the first time.
So I close my eyes,
Trying my best not to memorize.
Because this pain is too familiar.

What are the signs if any,
That something is on the edge
of Erupting.
Are there no smoke signals,
No phenomena to heed,
to let you know something is building?
Deep beneath the surface,
Where everything is surely collected,
lies years of accumulated
stress, fear, and despair.
An unimaginable amount and power,
able to sear the earth plain.
When it becomes to much, who will be there to blame?
The surface will shatter, and the load will scatter,
Those above and around,
Will stand shocked and open-mouthed.
How could this have happened?
It was only natural,
So much for so long,
Of course it would spill out.

I am a dog, I am naked and alone.
I'm not the only one.
This is it, my expensive 11 square feet
I like to call my empty home.
I guess there's something to be said
For this "stupid dog" who will never *EVER
Get to "see anyone" real but might just get
The lucky joy of being ******!

I walk with a head full of clouds, a mouth full of wisdom
Trudging in a sea of doubt flippantly filling in the void with words unspoken
Teetering on the edge of what is "right" what is "wrong"
Floating on the tempting water between what I am and what I "should be"
What the letters upon the box should say, were they stuff me to forget me
Their labels still sting the inside of my nose, the latex embedded in the skin from each ripping and re-sticking.
I wear a face upon my skin her butterfly headdress bleeds the color of their contempt, the slick lines of abstract freedoms morph to become the fluttering of a thousand wings
What I want most I have bled to show, how my mind works and sees has printed on the skin
Put there to remind all I am more within.

If all I am is man
Then I want the world in my hands
I want the right to speak with words that echo
I want to posses the same rights of work, status
And objectify others to meet my own selfish needs
That when I die my spouse dies with me for they are worth nothing without me
May they bind their feet to satisfy my need to provide,  support because they are nothing but an ornament to my state
Let me abuse them with words and hand to meet my every demand
All that they are is mine
For I am man
A victim to my own sick pride.

In just moments*
All were blown away
By the exposure in red,
All I could think of
Was the pouring "blood,"
That my values were dead.
Focusing on my face,
The camera takes an image,
What I looked like seconds
Before my imagined carnage,
Unfolding right in front of the lens,
Spilling my feelings out for once.
Still I only dreamt of it every night,
I'd finally ended it now in hysteria,
Spraying  my worthless "blood" that
Spattered and ruined your camera.