Who will be there when the civil war starts?

When your mind can't see past itself and your heart wants to stop
Will anyone notice that your smile falters when you hear your own whispers.
That your eyes tear from the squeezing of your heart.

When you stomach refuses to hold food down
And your kidneys start giving up
Who will be there when your mind is too heavy for your body to lift up?

Will there be anyone to lift you up off the floor?
Will there be anyone to wrap the red paintings on your wrists?
Who will even be aware of any of it

Will you, yourself even be aware?
Civil wars always end up with casualties on both sides.
And most of the time
Nothing is left worth fighting for

Fooled by love,
rather fooled by life
a maze to walk
seldom traversed
without the inevitable blank wall
tormenting befuddled mind.

Love is real.

Life is a hazy non-reality.

Trust the heart

for melodious, rhythmic beats

signal that 
life is now
not some distant goal.

Love is around,
within awareness

find it

among sky, among trees

within *****, within 
wombs. 


Will you be worthy of love?
Rather will love be worthy of you?

Don't give yourself to points of misery
every time the die doesn't fall your way,
for tomorrow could be the day you wake
to all of the outcomes in the right place.

I have seen it for myself, my dear friend,
the way days drag on but you have no time
to find a conclusion, to find a reason
as to why you even woke up at all.

But the day will come when fear has no hold,
only loose ties to old loves and old selves.
You can learn to count your blessings amongst
all of the wreckage of your misfortune.

You will find yourself amongst lost pieces.
You will finally see all that you've done.
You are noticed my friend, and always loved.
The day will come when you see it for yourself.

If you are single do not stress it, mainly it's because you understand the complexity of the relationship recipe you're a child of destiny and a victim of intuition, morally gifted, respectfully lifted, GPS couldn't follow your mission, eagerly itching; but if they don't cut the standards you know how to dismiss 'em, If they're not sharp enough they have no place in your kitchen; not smart enough they don't deserve a compound sentence PERIOD

You cross your i's
and dot your t's
when everyone's watching.

"Have a nice day!"
"You're welcome!"
when everyone's watching.

You sing the alphabet
and count on your fingers
when everyone's watching.

you are
perceived
judged
tallied
misunderstood
when everyone's watching

there is wonder and grace
tangled in your curls,
and the night stars have
made your eyes their dwelling place.
and your heart is a garden
with blooming flowers of
joy and beauty, bringing
life and light to the darkness.
hope and heaven live
in your bones,
and in your soul a
songbird sings a melody
of love.

Empty,
no hunger,
depression,
have to eat,
fill the emptiness,
throw up,
eat again,
throw up,
nothing fills,
only the pills.

What is it we see and so often despise,
when we view ourselves using only the eyes,
that distorted image inside our head,
the old snakes skin that we’d like to shed,

dare we look from behind the frame,
beyond the self-loathing, repulsion and shame,
our vesture is woven from the beauty inside,
so take on its mantel and wear it with pride.

I am nothing
more than damp
dewing the mould of your mind
nothing
more than an extra vessel
trying to keep your heart awake
trying to keep the blood inside you
nothing more than a crimson clot
pale cloth
watching the poppies grow up, and off
I am nothing
more than leaves in autumn
before you digress
and I fall
forgotten

Upward-curled, gleam of white
But as yet, something missing
“I swear, I’m quite alright!”
My wonder turns to stressing.
Is she really quite alright?

No-one wears their shoes,
Socks upon the carpet
Browning fog turning loose,
But purple mist diffuses.
Is she really quite alright?

My wonder turns to worried health,
I turn my focus to myself,
I pull a beer down from the shelf,
Indulging still our failing health,
She smiles, as if to say that she’s alright.

Trading sweat between our hands,
A greeting shared from man to man
We speak ambition, WE ARE PROUD
Our cigarettes, they make no sound.
They know that it will soon be their turn.

To be or not… I have forgot.
Our wasteland, wasted, seems alright
It skips my mind I’m all I’ve got
I’ve never put up much a fight
I hope I’ll quickly be all right.

But there are NO PROMISES
And no safe-houses.
smoke arouses surety,
But holds the door for vanity.
But as for me,
I highly doubt she's feeling free.

Charging, useless, up the hill,
The last endeavor of it's kind,
Cry peace, peace, but peace is killed,
Fulfill the end of southern mind.
There is no way that she's okay.

As men in grey
Lay on the ground
Bleeding with untempered sound
I cast my eyes about the house
I find her broken, fading lips
Pressed limp against assailant’s kiss

Those pearls that were
Her sentient eyes,
They cast upon me smiling sighs
She clings the arm of shifty eyes
And leaves the party, new inside.
And now I know she’s not alright.

But then again, nor am I.