Green grass grew where marble now lies
Teasing the past to summon old cries
Where summer dies and stars no longer seen
Appearing in mud and everything unclean

Simple waves crash upon complex shores
To wash away all the world ignores
Weathered seams and broken dreams
Unseen images and blocked sun beams

This is the story that no one told
These are the truths that make us cold
Cherish the memoirs, use what they show
Live in the moment, let the past go

Slice. Suture. Repeat."

[How many times has it been now?
      Three or four? Three for certain. Or maybe this is four.
            Smiling is just... plastic and puzzled. Sordid, *****.
                  ..this is my face!]

"Slice. Suture. Repeat."

[Stiff. Arthritic. Brittle.
      Plums taste of plaster.  Chewing is almost impossible -
          congealed chalky paste.  Chicken or stew?
                At least she is still with me. I don't remember much...]

"Slice. Suture. Repeat."

  [Feeding time now requires intubation.
          the scar-tissue will need to be excised again. sigh
                so it was an accident, I think. Wasn't there someone... else? ]

"Slice. Suture. Repeat."

    [is Everything diluted.  blurry are Faces.
            with me One was... I think...
                  I don't mind much...]

"Call it.  He's gone."

Up all night, bleeding the hate from my body in forms formed in my imagined imaginary worlds of discord served up on a page.  For the moment, now I am free from the chains and from all that remains of my ****-hurt plastic love growing pains.

As words, verse, and liquor traverse, seep out of my pores, and my eyes become sore with the filth of **** ******, I write until nothing makes sense, until I am no longer upset, until my mind ceases to fret on past woes, split seams, and broken playground dreams.

It is within this hour, I remember to breathe.  To take a look at my life and to take a look at me and remember to smile, to know that life goes on, we all hurt, but I plan to stick around and stay for awhile.  The pity party packs up it's package of filth and its pained remains. The dark side of me spoke and he shook, and he opened a vein. The dark side of me overstayed his visit, tired and sick and weak from the the fray, he decays. For now, the dark side of me is fired today, and sinks back into the depths of grey from whence he came.

A per diem employee of the heart, the 'dark side of me' part, but when the heavy **** begins to start, and it all falls apart, the snakes come out to play and to ****.  So when your eyes start to leak, and life's feet change its beat and begins to defeat, he'll come back around when my soul is bound, he'll bang out his sounds and you'll keep him around to absorb the hate and the ****, to hide it from the bright side with caution tape and help you remake.

In the end, he's a necessary evil, all pieces in harmony share your loves, your hates, your wishes, your breaks, your woo hoo's and your boo boo's.  All pieces in harmony protect you, keep you sane and keep you tame, keep you in your own shoes to do what you have to, and he'll take the blame.  

This is life, and for now I am alone.  I once loved more than I thought I could, and with such a high, on rainbows I stood.  It was too high, it was too steep, the snakes came in took it away.  I fell so far, I fell so low, I fell until broke, then I fell some more.  Would I do it all over again knowing the same outcome? Without hesitation.  This is all.

How to prepare a broken heart:

For this recipe you will need to acquire,
one human heart, and pound it out flat,
blood, eight pints to ten, and boil over fire,
four months of tears should provide for the salt,
add the better part of a soul, a few good intentions,
and pinch of "it's all your fault"

now add your hopes, and add your dreams,
ground up a little warmth and some smiles,
and sprinkle it all with a dash of defeat.
disrespect, shake and repeat.

mangle, beat, and crush with your feet.
tear open your chest,
**** it all inside, right under your breast.
heat at "Hell" for as long as it takes.
baste with fear and loneliness for the time that it bakes.

you won't know when its done; it doesn't come with a timer.
Just be patient; let the torture unfold.
when all of your faith in the world has receded,
and your bright eyes go dead and defeated,
when your childish view of the world grows old,
your dish will be ready - best if served cold.

Beautiful night's sky,
a splattered canvas of light peeking at me through pinholes,
watching me..
mocking me..
wondering why I am alone.

It is too fair a picture to look at alone.
I try to stare at my feet.

All love's efforts, dreams, and hopes,
put through the meat grinder and wrapped with a bow.

Why do the stars taunt me with their judgmental eyes?
What do they know anyway?

Under these starry skies,
I used to hold her so close it hurt.
I kissed her told her everything would be ok.

Now I can't bear to look at them.  
I try to stare at my feet.

Beautiful, starry sky...
Another casualty of war.