Each day is of the phoenix
so let us leave the former ashes behind;
rise above the strife that plagued us
as only yesterday could,
and stand on the newly formed magma
of today's covenant,
when it finally cools on our lips.

The light from under your bedroom door
It bleeds golden streams
Spilling out onto the floor
Making a bridge of light

We're both connected.
You and me.

Your room is so close by.
Can I come in?
It's locked.
And I've tried knocking.

I can hear you crying through the door.
Is it me?
Why don't you let me in?
I can help you.

You have your secrets
I'll keep mine.

I'll come back later.

I'm back.
Compose yourself.

There's nothing to fear
It's only the house settling.

I'm only down the hallway

Getting closer now

The boards creak

I hear your heart beat faster

Don't be afraid

It's only me.

And I've always been here

Since the day you moved in

Waiting for someone like you

To share the house with me.

I stood staring
not moving
but aware
feeling the breeze
and its touch
light as a feather
hinted at freedom
long since forgotten.

Heavy is the gravity
that anchors me
to the ground here
so when a shadow
covered my face
I raised my eyes
and I cheered
as a white bird dissected the blue sky.

Let the rusted shackles remain
all the tread-marks and the bruises
to remind me in this life,
that I was once a prisoner
of my own habits.

Show the bars were fashioned
from the idleness
of my own two hands,
which bestowed upon me the title
of lecherous warden.

Raise the ******* high
to salute the fairness of life,
a signal to the clan of the world;
to those blameless few,
content to merely pass through,
it becomes a warning
to those other wretched ones.

The fur and pelt of clothes
becomes a second skin,
animals on the mountain once more;
half covered by white curses
bodies pocketed in snow,
the chilling embrace of eternal season,
reaches all that know
and are deeply felt in the bones,
by brethren and coven alike.

It is the flag of Everest
to mark how far we have come;
ignore the scar tissue
hunger pangs and brokenness
and climb upward to find a perch,
as thin breath of the lungs remains.

Come out from the caves
and seek your mantle;
where others have fallen,
from the towering heights.
Despite the consuming frost-bite,
the finger remains on the tallest peak,
as a cross to bless other weary pilgrims.

Drain the venom with your pen
write it out,
until it wraps around you.

Stem the bloodflow
use it as a tourniquet
spit out the poison onto paper.

This world was made to devour
unhinging its jaw,
seeking to binge on us.

Do not be afraid
be forewarned;
take off the head of the hydra
and be resolved to continue with the cause.

The world seeks out the youth in me
waiting to devour it eagerly
wanting to remember the flavor.
Lukewarm without seasoning,
consuming it---
first body, as sparse appetizer
then soul, as both dessert and entree.

Mistakes are used as marinade
drowned in salt and vinegar
the recipe of all humanity
before I am tenderized,
with each violent flash of the silver mallet.

Finally plated---
on the finest china
surrounded by soft flowing table cloth,
and folded napkin of regret.

Mind the spotless silverware
once cut, the juices begin to flow.
The menu is carried away
and the wine list is red.

I am revealed
then served with a green garnish;
under the nose of unforgiving critics
whose taste buds had withered long ago.