Step aside and let the others have their way but what about you?
A doormat on the muddiest of days for everyone's messy shoes?
After you my dear I insist
The door wide open to my heart you missed
Your chance to come inside and have a seat
Instead you'd rather be alone saying you need someone to be with I'd even ask to see you, you tell me you're beat
Bed time, but you're online stalking
When we could be talking
But hey, I'm nobody special just a normal dude
Just remember one thing I tried to always be there for you

These Lines:
etched and edged,
well-distinct and ill-defining,
clarifying and disguising,
multifarious characters,
multivariate natures.
nefarious and courageous.

thickened thinnings,
straightforward curvings,
appointed and unanointed,
given, taken, and then
redrawn, misshapen.

both boundary and limitations,
goal reached, unending destinations,
a human's realm of indefinite definitions,
These Lines:
mappings of his domain,
recordings of his failings.

my great divide,
testimonies to my endings,
visual markers of
virtuous past successes,
virtual future failures invadings.

How can they be both simultaneous?

These Lines:
double etched and sword edged,
outbound-triumphant, defending,
inbound-plaintive, wailing,
both an indefensible and defensive blade,
cutting, both ways.

*PostScript:
The twenty eight of the month of Feb-rue-ary,
clear enough ending to the muddiest, contrary,
turgid month of the ifs of a man's life.

Love doesn't always arrive
In the form of a bestfriend.
Nor does it always have a fairy tale beginning.

Sometimes,
Love arrives in the messiest,
Dirtiest,
Muddiest times in our lives.

But how great is it
To be walking out of hell,
To be walking out of the mud,
With someone by your side.

I told myself years ago,
If to love meant to stay muddy and bruised then I will forget what it is like to ever be clean.

And alas, love has arrived
And love is here.

Last night was very hard for me
My brain was buzzing
Racing, running
With every thought it could think of you
With every dream it could dream of you
I guess it hasn't gotten the memo yet
You left me
It knows how much I longed for you
But it's a little too late
I no longer want to think of you
It hurts
But it seems like you're the only thing it can think of
So much that I can't think
Of anything else worth thinking about
Kept up half the night
My own mind driving me crazy
With pain
And tears
And "how could you do this?"

Somebody gave it a late notice
Cause I'm way over that phase
I don't want to think about you
I don't want to dream about you

They are the muddiest thoughts
And the clearest dreams
I have
Ever had.

I must come to terms with who I am. I feel myself encompassed, listless
I drown in my own tears, plugged by my ****** and *******
When shall I fall behind and bring myself to the finish line?
Who shall help me? Can anyone really?
Is not life the weight of a thousand eyes and crippling murderous thighs?
I stand alone in this earthly lair,
I rise above the hands of those I thought dear
My goodness, it pains and brings about an ache so indescribable
What plugs me down is within myself and yet everyone
Engulfed. Gluttonous in its discharge
I am in pain
Not “half agony, half hope”
But a mix and a medley of the muddiest of emotions
My grass alongside my womanly pride
I hate my insides and what I contribute to the outside
I exhale all pain, unencumbered by today’s victories.

I have a wandering mind
It goes asunder at times
I pine over pitiless thoughts
I ought not to think
I become distraught
And I begin to sink
Deeper and deeper
Plummeting down
In the darkest muddiest murkiest
Of waters I begin to drown
But I realize that I am only in a puddle
And I begin my ascension
You see my anxiety transports me to another dimension
Where puddles are lakes and oceans
And I am incapable of controlling my emotions

Oh, my spurn of this shallow swamp!
For: it is not extensive enough
to blanket my body, when I fall over,
clomp- ing through the mud so rough.

To, under starlit sky, be submerged-
fully- on a summer night-
a desperate attempt to purge-
this black matter from within my blood
and these negative emotions that do flood-
my mind from time to time,
these sinister thoughts of mine.

Under muddy waters,
all of my feelings absolve;
& under muddy waters,
the time on my watch comes to a halt.

It's truly tantalizing-
how all of my pety issues can be resolved:
with merely one immaculately deep breath
- of the muddiest water.

Under muddy waters,
the world's disarray fades off;
& under muddy waters,
I let out my last and final cough.

--

Where is the grandeur
in growing grey, without the girl
you're grateful god grew?

Do you understand how grand-
it would be to sleep, hand in hand, 
next to her while she is blanketed
in my old, ragged shirt?

Oh, the stupid smirks:
I would emit without command.

--

Unto these muddy waters,
my shadows follow.
Unto these muddy waters,
my soul has ran
- and fallen;
and into these muddy waters,
I will be swallowed.

--

Just have to drag out the garden hose first-
& run the faucet for a days worth - time. Then, and only then, shall my end- begin.
- Under muddy waters.

purest flowing clarity
resembling the innocence of a child's soul
lies in the muddiest and cloudiest
rivers

within us all.
it flows within our veins

if you only let the light shine through.

Pale skin,
Red lips,
Dark eyes,
Dark hair.

Drift in and out of nothingness,
And try to haunt my efforts to get better.

I buried that skeleton long ago,
So stay down
In the deepest depths
Of the muddiest ground.

Threats of breaking skulls,
If it is dared to pull me under.

I am not who I once was,
And I have shed memories
Like snakes shed skin.

I cringe and writhe in agony
At the person I used to be.

Blackened eyes
And reddened cheeks,
Bruised hip bones
And ****** knuckles.
I am shamed to say,
I can see
How it came to be,
This ghost of me.

But she is gone,
And I am new,
To say goodbye
To the ghost of me and
All she's been through.

Fevered dissonance in the deepest, muddiest pit.
Religion peeks its head from above as I dig my nails into wet, soiled walls,
Scratching for escape from the uninvited inhabitants of my mind.
Breathing in dust,
Exhaling the soul--
Faith shines a dim light beyond the black blanket of night,
Where rings of smoke break away,
From red lips that decorate demon sanctuary,
Forming halos above my head.

But religion is just a thought,
Just like thoughts of my childhood.
Just like you and I racing through our neighborhood pool--
Filling our lungs with air,
Before touching the concrete floor with raisin fingertips,
Holding our bodies down,
Until the urge for breath is unbearable.

Spiritual security--
Unreachable, as the foul tenants beneath my skull,
Howl, claw, and chew at the corners of my cotex--
Growling in desire for written immortality.
Where is religion and its promises of everlasting life and paradise,
When fiendish ventriloquists fist-**** orifices,
Controlling my limbs?
Where is God when fingers clinch the pen?
Where is Heaven, when the ballpoint digs through paper,
Like a shovel digging a grave?
Who hears my prayers, when the demons pull thoughts from dark corners--
The way they pulled your naked, lifeless body, from the bottom of the pool,
Where you lay for three days?

“No foul play expected,”
Nor closure.
“An angel,” they called you.
The only angel I’ve known
Fell on the pages of Milton’s lost paradise.
“She’s in a better place”--
The words I heard as I watched you lie in a box.
Your once luminous, black hair--
Dry, brittle, straw.
The same fingertips that rubbed my back as we tossed tasseled caps--
Partially-peeled raisins;
Skin shriveled and torn,
Never to feel again.  
“She’s in a better place,” they said,
As they lowered you beneath the surface,
Where you can never come up for air.
The deepest, muddiest, pit.

Part of me was lowered with you--
Drowned in holy water, tears, and smoke,
Buried under dirt and antidepressants.
Faith turned its head as worms fed on my shriveled heart,
Torn, beside your suppressed memory.
My demons, though--
Grind my skeletons to fertilize the soil,
Guide the pen,
Dig past the surface,
Until a flower peeks from beyond the darkness of the pit.