Once, I never cared for this.
Incandescent lights,
Snowy streets.
Finding adventure in your own two feet.
Swift shoes on misty pavements,
Calling to you like sirens from old
Myths we've long forgotten to tell.
Once, I didn't care how badly
This desire inside me burned.
This call to the unknown,
A cry so deafening
It made me sick,
And I---
Liked it.
I was a wanderess stuck still.
A statue of wanderlust and unlicked postage stamps
So close but oh, so far
From being where I belonged.
It was a nightmare far
More sinister than any
Monster under my bed
Once, I gave up on trying to fly.
To get away
From the poison place I couldn't stand.
I didn't care how I lived
Because no matter what,
I never saw it as my life.
Needless to say
I was wrong.
Once I realized that...
No longer do I stare out windows that stared back daggers
Blaming me for a life I didn't fight to live.
But don't worry, no...
That fight is not over for me, now.
It's only just begun.

From unlicked envelopes
And blank papers
Because my pen could never touch the words
My brain searched for endlessly

Scarce are the lips unlicked by the fires tongue
Raised by the mothers nature, wild and undone
in the moments your will is pushed, ash tray

Hold to the weeds and strike at the rain
They are the unruly ones whose desire plays with the wind and burns everything within touches reach
But not to subject a detrimental flame upon which they came

No, we are water in an iced age burning to escape the pain.

We have ardent inclination to fetch whats ripped bare from our hearts
Baren, left, we hold nothing but our broken parts in a box
left by the bypass ruined by rain and grass stains, a product of the golden days oxidized and rusty. 
Look at my eyes, from pain

this must be virtue. 

I promise, in sickness and in health i will never hurt you

Out in the lanes where laughs not Mirth,
          Where maggots thrive 'mid offal fogs,
A mongrel ***** wreaked lethal birth
          Unto a host of puppy dogs.

Six guileless hounds were spewed in Hell,
          The dowager vaporing, dead.
Five unlicked pups heaved blind and fell
          Until but one might Being wed.

Then I, bereft of Pride's respect,
          My spirit cold spurned to this sty,
Touched humble fur -- O dim reject!
          For me his spark refused to die!

It matters not how mixed his blood,
          How flea-infected be his skin,
I now command this canine stud;
          I am the master of Chien.