Promies, never to,
The premise of us to part.
Should I ever leave you,
Let being be dashed-
Against black canvas.
Let blood be 
A medium of art.

These shackled hands,
Consequence of circumstance
And everything I have entailed.
Perchance, happenstance-
That which we have lived
And all that was not availed.
The fog of brokenness, and ache of loneliness.

Against reality, we rail.

Red Dot Nightmare

The premise of amounting to nothing,
Can be comforting.
If you think you are capable enough
To affect real change. 
And if you are, and 
Do not, you are no
Man. And if
None of us act,
We are all ******