Everything hurts.
Everything is numb.

Everything is heightened.
Everything is dull.

Everything is lacking.
Everything is too much.

Everything was me,
but now everything is nothing.

Timothy Yan, that was his name
I miss him, still, 71 years later
I don't know if he's alive now
Nor, really did I know then in 1942
We were kids, he was 11 and now
would be 82 or 83
I don't know if he'd remember me
But, I remember him
and will forever
He was Canadian
He was my best friend
His family was Japanese
We'd come from Ontario, Burlington
Work brought dad west
So, we settled in a suburb of Vancouver
Tim's family had been here for a few years
There weren't a lot of Japanese in Canada
He was the first one I saw
We didn't have any in Burlington
So as I know
We lived on the same street
Went to the same school
He was Canadian
We played baseball, road hockey
football, we were brothers
blood brothers, we were a team
We moved west in 1938
I met him that fall in school
We were instant friends
The day I saw that St. Louis Cardinal hat
stuck in his pocket, all rolled up
He'd be Stan The Man, I'd be Red Russer
He was Syl Apps, I was Sam LoPresti
I was Turk Broda, he was anyone he wanted to be
We were both Joe Di Maggio
We were brothers
I remember the noise first
Great big Army trucks,
Olive green
All up the street
Not just at the Yan place
The Yokishuris, Wans, and Timmy's Aunt too
Soldiers, loading the trucks
We weren't allowed out to see
Notices had been posted though the door
We could only watch and wonder
They were being moved
They scared the powers that be
Little Japanese families
Many born here
Scared the powers of  King in Ottawa
And they had to be moved
Inland, to the Okanagan Valley
To Camps, in Canada, their country, Camps
Canada was at war
With it's own people
With 11 year old Timothy Yan
Ever since Pearl Harbour
Ottawa got scared
Japanese fishermen in the west
Japanese fighter planes from the east
There had to be spies in British Columbia
Tim Yan was apparently one of them
They were told their property was safe
All their goods in storage
They were lied to
A month after they left
The auctioneers came in
Everything was sold
Everything...
I hope he kept that hat
Dad bought what he could
So did other neighbours
I still have the boxes
Never opened
Waiting for the Yans,
I miss Joe DiMaggio
I didn't understand it then
And I don't now
My teachers couldn't explain it
My minister said it was the best
That didn' t help either
What best?
Who decided what was best?
Best for who?
It wasn't best for me, or Tim
Nobody asked us
He was just gone
I spent years looking for him
He never came back after the war
They were moved further east
They were sent to Japan
He was from Canada
Why would they send him to Japan
He was gonna be the first Japanese big leaguer
I hope he made it
I grew up and became a lawyer
A citizenship lawyer
This was not going to happen on my watch
To anyone again
Not while I was around
I miss him
He went to war
And never fired a shot
He went to war
And never knew why...

I only hope the darkness doesn't
invade you as it does unto me.
Too often I have scrambled
within the pits it digs
over and over.
My arms, my will
may be just enough
to cast you away,
leaving but one victim
to endure the neurotic torture.
Allow it to remain internal
so I shall carry it
alone and eternal.

You are a victim.
A victim of your vices
giving into everything that entices.
That leaves your heart
colder than ice is.
Your actions are the worst,
but I can't blame you.
You are just a victim.
A victim of the thirst.

Your flesh is weak
but you know that.
You can't help yourself
So you don't fall back.
No attention at home
Makes you feel all alone
and your soul is crying
for some contact.
So you scroll through
all of your contacts.
Wondering who just might
call you back
As your mind paces
back and forward.
The thirst begins
to call on you
and that is when
you follow through.

You have fallen.
You have fallen.
You have fallen victim.
Victim to the thirst
and with all of your worth
you have become
the worst.

The thirst of lust.
The thirst of lust
and the sin of vanity
has influenced
Your latest calamity.
That will become the cancer
that will eat away
at your very sanity.
Until all you have left
Is the thought
of your conformity
to the community
of the heartless.
Body, mind, soul,
Bound by your effects causes.

You are a victim.
A victim of your vices
giving into everything that entices.
That leaves your heart
colder than ice is.
Your actions are the worst,
but I can't blame you.
You are just a victim.
A victim of the thirst.
and with all of your worth
you have become the worst.

chilling, careless smile,
your eyes perambulate the
caverns of my soul

She is an artist,
Of red lines that cover her waist.

She is a singer,
Of brutal screams and cries that are never heard.

She is a doctor,
Of fixing every broken heart she sees.

Yet she is a victim,
Of pain and constant internal longing.

But she is a fighter,
And you'll never know she's any different to the little 4 year old you first met her as.

He is not a victim
Just offbeat and strange
Fighting off the pain

The memories play
Repeat once and while
Bruised smile
No one ever came

Little boy begging to die
Bleeding tears
So much
And all that snot
Made it hard to breath
All those nights
It was so hard to sleep
Couldn’t find
Anywhere safe to be

The bedroom boy
The window watcher
Timid eyes
Pleads with the daylight
To disappear

Even in his dreams
She was still chasing
He lay wasting
The best part of life

He chased butter knife hopes
Hoping to slide it in the plugin
Hoping to hit the perfect spark
Hoping to end before his heart
Got broken again

And in morning
When she was to tired
To start storming
He headed off
To school
Were kids were cruel

The only time he was ever safe
Was coming home
And on his way
The in-betweens of his day

Now it doesn’t really matter
And sometimes he is ashamed
To even admit it
Because he is not victim