Under the sun some time ago,
A violent, greedy form was shaking,
And was struck down, breaking,
By the Son of Heads he tried to pry apart.

But now he is living.
A light shows upon his wicked hooks.
Pointed at something glimmering behind the chorus of swords.

It brightly glares down, the lost appendages float around,
One strikes! Oh– what a sound!
If it just had a mouth it would scream for the world!
Its fingers bleed and are lost to their home,
Said home no longer bound to its segmented docks.
Bridges burning, joints are turning, liquids leaking,
The strings are singing, the clouds are cutting,
A God is laughing! A box is smashing!
"Pathetic fool! See where your arm is now?
Where is your body now? He can't help you,
The evil one that left him lost and helpless!
Powerless fool! You are nothing without him!
He is an engineer without a wrench,
And you a wrench without a *****!
Another choked by the strings of many songs... lost."

The shadow bleeds. He cannot see.
Without a mind he cannot think.
The sheep has tamed and came to shame...
My shadow... bound to his remains.

Have at it, thwart, the shadow.

I wish
I could tell you
how much I love you
I wish
let you know
I'm next to you
I wish
I could comfort you
I wish
I could tell you
everything will be fine
I wish
I could believe
that will arrive soon
the moment in which
finally
you and I
will be together
I wish
but I can’t
I wish
that this world
don't divide us
I just wish
I could
tell you
I love you
staring at your eyes
I just wish
I could feel
the warmth
of your arms around me
I just wish
to know
you’re happy
I wish
but I can't
hatred keeps us separated
violence
divides us
your ideals
your selflessness
your bravery
your integrity
that I love so
keep us far away
I wish
you next to me
I desperately
wish
to find you
in a place without
war
I want
to believe it
I want
to hope
I just want
close
my eyes
and wait

I sit there and stare into his dark gaze, unable to move do to the fear that has latched itself onto my legs.
Lips trembling, face bloodied and bruised.
The only words I am able to form are begs.
He looks at me with a face filled with disgust, hard steps towards me.
I form enough courage to sprint towards my only escape, the door.
I thought he loved me,
I thought I meant something,
It's my fault,
I should have given him what he wanted.
All the thoughts run through my head as I slowly stop running, I take a deep breath and slowly walk back. Thoughts already forming an excuse and an apology. He meets me at the door with a smile.
"I knew you'd be back."
The last sounds I hear are police sirens.

I can savor
The taste of fear
Riding upon the wind
As turbulently
As your troubled mind
Seeks desperately
To understand the mortality of this moment

The life and death mechanics of reality
The realization
That we are to die
As evident of the staccato pant
Of your futile labour

Frivolous at best
Arouses a sense
Of ******* justice

Hard truths
Brought to bear witness of
Your infidelities
Your betrayal

Lies
Aborning of arsenic
Sputters froth
From your womb

Searing traces of bitterness
Cascades a corrupted truth
Transformed into an ugliness
That has become us

Two hearts that once beat as one
Cast fervently
Into a cold war

Unrelenting hatred
Reciprocated  
Ricochet
Unmitigated threats

Wounds
That cannot be reprieved

How did we get here?
Do you even care-
To ponder the thought?

How
I once loved thee
A dream shattered
By the realization of now

But
The now I can live with
The thought of losing you I cannot
**** this relationship

Endure
I must
For the taste of you
Is the sake of me
My sustenance

I close my eyes
In perusal of happier times
When life was bearable

Abruptly
I'm jolted out of my reverie
By hilt of your scorn
Protruding from my chest

Animately
I touch
As if to confirm its legitimacy
A reason for its being

Overwhelmed by solemn peace
I collapse in passive supplication

And as she turns and walk away
Contemptuous
Of the final utterance
To flee my lips
I forgive you

I ponder
If she ever
Loved me at all

America the wolf
Wearing the red stains
Of other people’s pain
Pumping profits from war
Instead the pleasures of peace
Creating false unity
As your fangs shred
The innocent
still resting in their bed
Children now dead
Play their songs in my head
Instead of cursing you
Who committed such crimes
They condemn me
For wasting my time

I should have killed the wolf
But it will be the death of me
Even if I am a wily coyote

I bought myself a gun today.
I’ll give you a moment to process the mental paper work.
Is he serious?
Is this guy for real?
Is this a metaphor? Is it loaded?  

Are these questions
you might ask?
Isn’t this supposed to be a poem?

I said I bought myself a gun today.
Do you feel better?
Safer?
Do I
seem more dangerous?
Are my words more weighted now--
with violence?
with virility?
with *******?
Are you looking at my crotch
for an extra bulge?
How do you feel
about me now
knowing that I’m packing?

I bought myself a gun today,
And just like that
I’m a gangsta upholding the second amendment.
I’m a citizen of the constitution
holding up my right
to bear arms,
and raise my hand in a fist--
a fist, that’s gripped in tension
a fist that’s an extension
           of man and invention
           and I really should mention
          I can blow your ******* head off
          without the slightest intention.

I bought myself a gun today,
Are you scared:
that I don’t know how to use it?
That it might want to use me?
That I might become
overwrought with emotions,
and respond to an argument
“Arnold” style with, an,
   “I’ll be back?”--
that I might settle things
once and for all
with my noisy neighbor
in a language he might finally understand?
Are you scared?

I bought myself a gun today.
Does that make you worry?
You know what the statistics say,
That I have a better chance of shooting
myself,
than some intruder,
or mugger, or ******
or therapist even.
Are you worried about my self-destruction?
that I might I might accidentally
have an
accident?
Or, maybe, you may think,
that it might be on purpose?
that I might be singing
the, “Barrel-in-the-mouth blues?”--
not just fantasizing
about ‘em,
but singing ‘em with a with my mouth wide open,
and feeling them for real for real:
feeling the cold steel ‘cross
my tongue,
choking
on the taste of cordite,
really singing, “I can’t breathe,”
and how much
this ***** and having
the means to put and end to it all--
Are you worried about that?
If you are
then don’t,
‘cause I’m not thinking about that at all.

I bought myself a gun today.
Wouldn’t it be great
if we all could say:

I bought myself a gun today.