A crow rested on a fence
and I wondered what this story-book fiend
with his dark, beady eyes, clever sense
and his feathers well-preened
wanted from someone as hollow as me.
I couldn't do anything but wait and see.

What did one say when faced with a crow
who had no appointments to rush to
no place he must go?
As if speaking was something I could do.
So with a wooden arm I gave him a little wave.
Pleased, he came closer, that fabled young knave.

I could not move much and I could not speak
as the crow stopped right at my rooted feet
and prodded my foot with his beak.
I'm a listless liar he deemed worthy to meet.
So I did not speak and I did not move
an inaction of which the crow did not approve.

He flew back to his fence that creaked
and shifted when the wind pressured its joints.
The forceful draft stung my eyes so they leaked
tears, I found I always disappoint.
The crow flexed his black wings
eyes closed as, for him, the gale sings.

I croaked out a question from deep in my throat
the wind became a whisper as the crow paid attention
"Are you here to jeer and gloat
over my bad decisions and poor intentions?"
He shook that dark head and said
"You're a terrible liar. I'm here to help instead."

"But are you not a portender of death
here to show me I have the illest of luck?"
Why can I not catch my breath?
Wondrous wings glide on waning wind then tuck
neatly against his back for he chose my shoulders
to better speak words that doused what smolders.

The crow rested on my shoulders and cawed
a sound soft and broken
and I thought it terribly odd
that the crow would caw when it was well-spoken.
So when the pressure of panic permeated my chest
the crow spoke again so my horrible heart could rest

"If I were just a crow residing on a fence..."
He gestured with his wing to where he was before.
"Then I'd have left you to your own offense
and not show you what you often ignore."
His black wings pushed my head 'til I saw the gate.
Hope swung at my roots freeing my feet from their hate.

"I believe you have many apologies to make."
I nodded my head and the gate opened.
The crow continued, "The right choices often take
an ax to your tree, to your roots. With hope and
desire to change, you can grow something new."
I stepped into the world beyond the fence and away the crow flew.

Trigger my thoughts
     with a ticklish touch
and watch my body
     **** away.
As I shudder and plead
     for you to end my unease.
You think I like it.
     You say I like it.
Have I played my part yet
     like I'm some marionette?
Tug on my limbs
     make me respond to your whims.
Touch yields no pleasure
     when I'm young and in danger.
I dance because you make me.
     I lie still when you take me.
Words won't leave my mouth
     though years have passed.
You're a monster that destroys
     every child you contact.
But my pen still works
     and I'll write of you.
Like a villain in a story book
     you will end too.

Crack my bones like dry kindling
and make more room for some logs.
Then set them on fire
watch my body burn hotter
than any star.
If you feel queasy
at how I burn so easy
then maybe turn away.
Let me die out with the flames.
Don't douse me.
But my dignity is something
you're not willing to give.
So you take the water
and toss it on me.
A fire put out, can't die on its own.
I'm just embers and ashes
that you leave out in the open.
A day and night passes
and you return to the spot
to poke a stick at my cinder heart.
You're shivering, are you cold?
It's too bad I have no bones
left to warm your icy soul.
I'm a fire put out, can't die on my own.
I'll see you home.

The cartilage in my joints crackles
like the leaves I step on
There is a bite to the air
that has my teeth chattering
And I'm standing at the top
of some stairs
with the expectation that
I will walk down them
But I'm certain I would fall
like the season
And for now
I take a seat
on cold
concrete
until my joints
see reason

I stole the moon from your sight
made you face the darkest night.
You waited, cowering, for the sun to rise
still unaware I robbed you of your eyes.
Taken from your skull with skillful hands
and shoved in urns buried beneath the sands.
The night cooled the earth where I made you lie
and truth was told to say goodbye.
Souls hollowed out like bones in birds
and broken as if trampled by herds.
Some skitter across the earth stirred
by the wind, others like yours, remain interred.
You should take a look at the sun up so high.
See for yourself what questions can buy.
Don't you understand why you were banned?
Soulless sockets somehow cry sand.

There's an old, abandoned house
not far from where I stay
its windows are all broken
brittle wood blocks the doorway
and it's green with ivy that crawls up its face
as it looks at all the other homes
that have windows lit with warm hues
and boast gardens tamed and beautiful.
I guess at what the old house says:

"I once held love within my walls
now it only echoes in my halls."

There's an old, abandoned house
not far from where I stay
and I see in its windows
it has so much to say.
How it became broken,
how its life faded away.
With a heavy sigh, the door falls off its hinges
like a mouth preparing to speak.
Would you like to know what the house told me?

Nothing.

Outside the cigar shop is an elderly man
he is leaning against a parking meter
fumbling the quarters he pulls from his deep pockets
and dropping them into the machine
the metal clinking as it accepts the change
and only reading 20 minutes
the old man scowls at the meter and puts in more coins
until it reads 1 hour
he digs around in his pockets and turns them inside out
he has no more
grumbling to himself, he pushes away from the meter
entering the cigar shop
and I'm left sitting in my car wondering
how we can spare some change for more time
for the things that will lessen the time we already have

Within the confines of the office building
is a dark and dusty stairwell.
Used less and less by those unwilling
to take a trip no longer fulfilling
as the elevator is easier and does not smell
and it moves too quick so one can't dwell
on the feelings that flow like an ocean swell.
But there's a fear a machine is instilling
for if there are a sudden halt and no dinging bell
and one is stuck when the power is killing
itself; would one think of those stairs so very chilling
and what their day would be if they took the stairwell?
Would they even survive to share a tale they can't tell?
Or will the cables break and they'll arrive faster in Hell?
It'd be too late for souls to know they were unwell.

The lack of control is frightfully thrilling.
No one tells them why they fell.

To avoid the hurt welling u    p in my chest
I needed to keep moving t    o avoid it
So I climbed my way to t    he top
of the cruel mountainsi    de
while rain fell down o    n
my pale, wincing fac    e
and I laced my fing    ers
together in a sort o    f
embrace and shiv    ers
began to race up     my
spine, so with h    aste
I began to pac    e on
top of slick r    ock
not paying     attention
to where I     was stepping
and I slip    ped and fell
the tears     began to well
up in m    y eyes
no sur    prise
I bro    ke myself again
whi    le I was trying
to    hide
f    rom
    him

A mist persists as the sun rises.
It's dense enough to be a fog
like the kind that blankets an Autumn night
when the air holds the water too tight.
A shadow sits on a pile of logs.

Seated in defeat a woman rests her weary feet.
Head bowed low, hands knitted together;
then pulling them apart like undoing an errant stitch.
A frown marring her face as she can't help but twitch
as the early morning breeze mocks Summer's weather.

It'd be better if her sweater wasn't woolen fetters.
Its looping pattern looked more like grey chains
meant to keep the early morning shivers contained
but they're too loose so no heat remained.
Her teeth chattered, blood cooling in blue veins.

The cool breeze eases until it ceases.
The woman rubs her shaking arms with withered hands.
Light and warmth start to spread as the sun climbs the sky
burning away the fog that sheltered all from the eye.
With energy and suddeness, the woman stands.

In her field of vision is life's final decision.
Something only she can see when the time is right.
What she saw the summer morning, no one can say for sure
but it appears to all she disappeared and no longer had to endure
the rest of the world's plight.

I spilled coffee on my shirt again
I remain still and let the stain sink in
I’m not leaving my desk for hours yet
There’s no point in saving it
Folders stained with coffee beans
That were crushed to smithereens
Crumbs on the floor swept beneath the rug
An office space for one who dug
Up the bones of yesterday
Forgetting why they put them away
My brain slows as time moves fast
Linger long and I won't last
Wrap me up in cotton lies
Allow me to close my eyes
And pretend that I can feel surprise
When I see the sunrise

The defenses failed, just tell them to evacuate again.
I know we lost, but must we even rebuild?
Disaster struck humans and angels once were worth more.
But all they did was keep heavenly bodies fighting!
And every third word I try and speak with
you, but these sounds so precious threaten our lives.
And maybe I cling to hope which clings to
those who get an angel's death, making things right.

.................................................................­...............................
If there is somebody listening, please let me know,
so I can shield my thoughts so you don't get lost.
It's a twisting, weaving, nightmarish maze in my head.
Don't listen so closely, you won't like what is said.

If I drive into this pole I would-
DIE yeah I know that brain thanks for-
PLAYING with his heart! She's playing-
GAMES which game? What do-
YOU want to know? How much wood-
WOULD anyone care if I jumped off a cliff-
RATHER than learning how to fly, I just-
AVOID the treacherous oceans of my-
MIND the gap, mind the gap, mind-
THE best of times, it was the worst of-
TIMES, divide, subtract-
ADD a face to a name and see its-
LIES that stab me like swords and I-
CRY from happiness, the world is okay.

If there is somebody listening, please let me know,
so I can shield my thoughts so you don't get lost.
It's a twisting, weaving, nightmarish maze in my head.
Don't listen so closely, you won't like what is said.
..........................................................­......................................

-------------------------------------------------------
         ­          I
                    feel
                        so
                         woozy
                            uneasy
                            my mind
                        is feeling
                   queasy
                 and
                   nothing
                       that I do
                           seems to
                      make this
                    go away
       not even just a cup of tea
   can keep these dreadful shivers
  at bay and I am left wondering if I will
  ever feel okay. Am I going to         turn
    out to be something great? Or will I
          stumble into oblivion
and no one will remember my name.

-------------------------------------------------------

Don't hang out with your exes, but that's not entirely true.
Don't hang out with your exes unless they're over you.
And one more point to add to this
that would not be good to miss
unless you're over them too, don't hang out with your exes.

It seems you've been struck with the meddler's touch.
I can see it in the way you move.
Constantly looking over your shoulder
cringing when you see nothing
not that you wanted to see something.
It's a relief overshadowed by fear
that someone will mess with emotions so dear.
They'll make metal melt and become malleable.
They'll do the same to you if you're valuable.
Melt you down and mold you into something you're not
they'll meddle with the metal and give you a medal
for participating in their meddling
and leave you to cool down when you were hot.
You're right to be wary of strange sounds
just be careful not to turn all the way around
for they're not behind you, they never were
the meddlers are in front of you
messing with your future.

Now you're something that you were not.
Now you're something that you were not.

Gold shines just as brilliantly as silver or bronze
achievements for the greatest of them all
standing on podiums, they show-off their medals.
Well gold, silver, and bronze shine
just as much as tin or iron
even the cheapest of plastics can be made to reflect light.
Will your champion know what is really gold
or will they be distracted by how it glitters?
No, not all winners are fools.
But the best of them all can determine
the metal of their medals.

How striking the steel sword is
when it's twirled expertly in the hand
of a knight from centuries ago
and then ****** at his opponent
finding the ***** in their armor.
How does metal find its way through metal?
Piercing the chest, flesh, bone, then heart.

Metal is for strength and for show.
Metal can make us fall apart, you know.