darkness can come over us at any time, when we least expect it
turns our day into night, my darkness hides monsters, they are faceless
and yet each one,has my face, a face of mistakes
each bloodsoaked line, tells its own story
a grain of sand in a lifetime, of blood guts, and glory
a page in a book, a look into someones life
a good read, or a reason to hide, float away on the tide

i watch people, not people like me, there arnt any
just regular mr and mrs smith
i watch them shop, chat, buy, sell, argue,
i watch them watch me, i wonder do we all just watch each other
do sisters watch brothers, sons and daughters,
fathers and mothers, we all watch the clock, tick tock
time running out, death getting closer,life going out
people rush to get somewhere, rush to get back
sit for 5 mins and think about rushing, for this and that
not taking time to chat, laugh, or nap
no time to rest, just headless chickins
searching for slim pickings, life has to offer

sheep that bleet, waiting to be meat, on some fat ******* table
stuffing it in, relaying some useless fable
to guests that have requests, to be entertained
wine and dine, pass the time, like fat swines
feeding and breeding, living to eat, to consume
we are nothing, nothing that matters anyway
we just eat, bulshit, die, and fade away
we are here for a short stay, in this coffin life
living in stone tombs, for a price
noyone cares, noyone is nice, we are all rats and mice

kids and a wife
a sharp knife, to cut my own throat
bleed me dry, make me cry
leave this life, its not nice,
daytime fading, darkness waiting, life escaping
i dont care, nothing left here for me anymore
i am sick of being life,s *****
cant do it , feel sick, cant look in the mirror, to face myself
i am a blank expression,
eyes cloud over, time has run out, i am free, dont cry for me
i am finally where i need to be,
alone, in the ground, not a sound,
cold, old, no more storys to be told
just darknesss

Strangers meet under banner of peace,
Each with bubbling thoughts to release,
Words, flooding jaw, to open mouth,
Salivating tongue, whipping words to route.

Gingerly they stand, like spices they are,
Ready to aid any recipe,
To reach for dreams afar.
They don't even know who they are,
But they make shapes of one another,
Regardless of fit, unlike kindred brother.

Bright words fade to dark whispers,
As the strangers make new friends.

In the end, what is left are daggers,
Made from the shadows of contrast.

One stranger bleeds, invisible wounds that bleet,
Calling out for transcendence, beyond defeat.
The other ponders for silence, amongst the wheat,
But in a field of sorrows, one cannot help but eat.
The strangers stand apart, on a stage bitter sweet,
For underfoot is the rage, a sword incomplete.

Rage desires vengeance, out of arcane countenance,
Fallen from mercy, they each are kane to the sore,
Humans thrive on the jolt of fear sans repentance,
For the breath of *****, and wine, are of death.

Acquainted strangers shed blood instead of nectar,
So as not to drink of the life, from which they all are victor.

Yet they stand mortal enemies, under the stars of fate and boredom.
Where is that banner of peace, waving to set the stage... again?
For we are not sworn enemies, we are mortals of a fallen kingdom,
Meant to die for beliefs that will eat us alive from the inside.

Should I just walk away
or should I just pretend
that others will know the way
and I'll make it to the end
If. I. Follow. Them
Am I just a sheep
or representive of the people
do I bleet with power
or am I just a sheeple?
That minority that herds forward
seeking single blades of grass
to munch on arbitorial
swallowing questions not asked

How. Come. It. Cuts. Like. Glass?

am I misrepresented
by the shame of not being focused
missing the road to everlasting
Salvation

my ticket says I'm on a one way trip

to *Hell and Damnation

Next time you're waiting
in a long, slow-moving line,
moo like a cow or bleet like a sheep
and see who is humoured
and see who is offended.

I earn my money, I pay my keep,
All the time feeling like sheep,
We follow the herd, we bleet along,
Tho whole time 'bleeting' to the same old song.
This doesn't feel natural, it must be wrong,
There has to be more,
than this plodding along?!

If ever I start to baah and bleet
And start to turn into a sheep
Slap me good and slap me hard
Keep me out of the farm yard
Bring to light the mindless plight
And remind me that I howl at night.

Almost comical
How something so small
Can make your bones feel like glass.

Almost a joke
How it spreads faster than joy
Tries to **** the light inside.

It ravages
So bloodthirsty it's blinded by sense
It will die too.

Throat raw from hard-fought breaths.
Tongue dry, too weak to say what's wrong.
Teeth crack and chatter from blood-deep cold.

The head is a ten-ton-ball balanced on a needle's edge.
It will plunge off the edge at the slightest push
And land with a wet squelch into lungs
Devoured by phlegm.

Every artery, vessel, vein and capillary is blocked.
A vile sludge sticks and oozes through
A suave and unwelcome guest.

The heart tries to break through its boney cage.
Frantic.
Fear of poison makes it bleet.
A lost lamb.

It will be done soon.
You cannot outrun the sickness.