What agent of the dark night
Do I seem to you? Baited frenzy?
******* black jacket
Upright with stiff neck

How late
Would you stay up for me
What stars will stutter with me
While I talk to you?
What oil of uneven candle?

Fate me
You verb on lost wings
Lend me a feather, so
I might just flap like you tonight.

I've lost my whimsy
Born my totem, high
I'm me, don't you feel,
Don't you see me standing still?

over the years,
i've collected images
of various escapades
all thrown away
when they thought
no one was looking.

i've listened to cries
hiding beneath their
ringing laughters
and tucked those tears
away in clear bottles
for safekeeping.

i've helped mend
battered hearts
& fractured souls,
then whispered comforts
about dreams & hopes.


i have done all those and more.


and now,

i want to know
if a song can rise from
the ashes of a broken life.

"Someone told me once
that there's a right and wrong;
punnushment is due
to those who dare to cross the line!
...
Someone told me once
that there's no right or wrong;
punnushment is due
to those who dare to draw the line!"

The mirrors whisper secrets
Little tidbits of advice
Reflections of a washed up zealot
Being optimistic to pull me from this ever-clenching vice

Torn, tattered, broken, battered
Claimed exaggeration from these hushed murmurs
Self destruction evident, nothing really matters
Tugging on my mind; the zealot’s cheery sermons

“Happiness is key
And the key is universal...”
But no one ever thinks to be
Something ultimately omniversal

A tool to be used constantly for general amusement
A tool to be ignored when no longer needed
A tool to be picked for sadistic abusement
A tool to be deluded, guilted, always twisting to the greeded

And like the calm before the inevitable storm
The tool dances to the tunes the varied user creates
Suicidal pursuit nightly, heart never warmed or warned
Staring back at the zealot is me; whispering dogmatic secrets of self-hatred.

True loyalty is hard to find and harder to earn
Once its broken there is no mending it
Only through the flames of strife do we find ourselves
L*etting go of someone who is true to you is the biggest mistake you'll make

You can not grasp the concepts I speak,
I accept gay people for who they are,
You hold on to your dreams and weep,
Then shop the avenue with tacky stores,
You are the one who breaks into song
When there was a villain who died,
You are always there ready to go to war,
Blank faced death as you boldly stride,
You were a pillow that I would lay my
Head on, now I run from you for my life,
You were a rainbow I had wished upon,
Now there is nothing but shame all the time.

*I was the one who had a childhood to explore and dream,
Now if I am not eternally busy, work restless 8 hour days,
I fall upon my sofa and knock out after I get home,
Finally find a little time and space, there you are
To tell me I'm nothing but a complete waste,
For I'll never work out in this world until I have
Lived up to becoming a slaved out tool for money's pay.
Perhaps on the outside I seem like a disgrace, but in truth
More like a dog who never learned the tricks of the trade.

I'm just a tool
People use me like a spoon
They don't see I'll wear out soon
They do see I'm stained & broken
They won't hear me when I've spoken
& they still don't do **** to fix me

Control freak
to
control freak
This will be a duel
Your hand
in
my hair
Using me as your tool

Youll tell me
What to do
Ill manipulate
The scene
Youll be
the cruel master
But youll never
Be mean

I can play
the kitten
Harmless
Just wanting
to play
And then youll
Lose control
From the ***** things
I say