The Devil took on the shape
Of a city crow.
You should have seen him
Manouver through the streets
On the warm gusts of wind.

Beak silver, feet golden,
Wings as wide as the smile
Of a demon's fresh from
Heaven's grasp.
He turned his head, exposing

An eye; a window to his lack
Of soul, as black as the center of
Nothing. Fresh wounds from
Needles in the arm of a girl
On the pavement below

Were sunsets and rainbows
To him; he croaked with the
Voice of a hundred crying mothers:
Your opened veins are my gates.
Syringe keys and ****** handles.

No single sin is anything
Without the eye that judges it.
Behold: Within the skies above
Is only air, no godly love.

No devil neither rests beneath,  
As blade within an earthly sheath.
Behind this blackness you will find
The consciousness of Humankind.

The crow looked up and lifted off
With a giant rustling flap.
Then, mid-air, changed into a dove
Of summer-cloud white; glided above the roof
Tops; became one with the sunlight

That stroked itself across the face
Of the girl in the street.
She looked up at a passing
Child. One that didn't cringe at the look
Of her weary, weathered features, but smiled

As if knowing her.
I swore I could see the chemical veil lift
From her eyes.
Who needs gods or devils, I thought.
*They're only devided by heart.

years of a life
encased in concrete
and double-paned bulletproof glass
climate controlled
to a nice 72 degrees
nothing to fear
no place to fall
nowhere to go
home sweet Hell

he drank his morning coffee with a drop of the sunrise mixed in
always one drop, never one more nor one less
just enough to hear the steam whisper
*good morning

I don't like to think about it
I hate it
I try not to think about it
But do you think trees try to fall down
things happen
regardless of whether they're planned
so last night I thought about it
even though I didn't want to

it kills me
I didn't want it to
I assumed it wouldn't
but trees spend all their lives above the grass
that doesn't mean they think they'll ever touch
I thought about it
and I hate that
and I hate that I hate that I thought about it

I hate that I love you
I hate that I don't fully believe that sentence
I hate that you can feel something
but not be aware that you feel it
I wonder if trees know they'll grow
they always do
but I wonder if they know they will
Is it possible to not know the inevitable?

I wish I could unthink the thought I thought
it kills me
how the thought of you with another man
makes my stomach turn
but the thought of me with another woman
doesn't carry the weight to lift a scale
were trees previously just one branch
until they realized they had other options

I'm using a tree as a metaphor
because I don't want to talk about myself
because I don't want to make this about me
I want the world to cause my problems
but if i'm being honest
which I will be
I am the root of my pain
I just don't want to think about it

The Affair

I fell in love with childhood,
he wore a red cape
made of polyester plaid,
tiny stitches of lines
circulated around his palm.
He never wore a mask,
his memories wore enough of one,
a fog remnant of a dream,
his home he’d never see again
all along the river, led up to a lake.
It didn’t matter anyway,
a wedge upon two brick walls
was a plaque – or a warning –
a memorial, perhaps, but
all succumbed to his pain,
every inch crumbled to dust.  
That’s when I took his childhood away.
I fell in love with memories.

She can't move on.
She says she's fine.
But deep inside, everything in her,
Reminded her of him.

She doesn't know if he moved on.
He acts like nothing happened.
He was okay. He was more than okay.
Deep inside she's struggling hard
To know how, why?

When can the two ends meet?
Will there be a moment wherein she can say that:
Nothing changed.
We're still friends. Close friends?

She wished that she could read his mind.
She wished she knew what was happening.
She wished she knew how to love like a man.
So that in the end,
She won't cry

If I were to speak I would stutter
From fear, from tears, I couldn't utter -
A sound
In my head, that I never heard
Gunshots, gunshots
Hanging on every word
****** fountains
Mystery
Don't think there'll be more school for me
Raining on my brothers wedding
Crying, crying
Sun is setting
White dress -
Hoodie, stained with red
New life begins
Another ends

I wish this **** would end
This mass destruction
This mass corruption

I wish Pandora's box could be resealed
Not concealed
With rumors and lies

I wish that it would end
It's getting worse and worse
Pandora's box is blasting
The corruption is spreading and causing destruction
The terrible truth concealed With rumors and lies

I wish to grant my freedom with these bottle of pills
As I sit from the top of my prison hill