And That was it...  
an ever growing chain of chances
Each shrunken sick in manners
down to the pitiful  size of mud dancing bugs
Finally foiled and boiled alive
in blood soaked tribal chants
to nothing but some cruel joke  
In which I will craft myself some hazardous home
But with You
Your handsome and enchanting charm
Always and forever squirming unpleasantly  
Framing My holy and collapsible sense of purpose
Leading me to be caught in those crosswinds
And with not one pathway left
To lead to another
Yes
That is it...

Still listening to the same music.

Still writing the same poems with different words.

Still drinking the same drinks,
eating the same foods.

Still wanting to be healthier.

Still wanting to be smarter.

Still wanting to be better.

Still hating the things I hated before;
The things that won't change.

Still not moving,
If so, just barely.

Still here.

In the rain
Outside in the rain  
Staring through
the wooden shutters
In almost darkness
Brown wooden shutters
With dust entrusted to them
And he see's the man
see's the man with the dog
The man with the dog staring
With sunken eyes
He watches
He spies
With dead sunken eyes
Sallow eyes
Glassy eyes
And then a grand fear is felt
All over the body  
The man with the dog and the sunken eyes
He listens
He see's through dust entrusted shutters
Looks at him outside
In the rain
In the dark
And suddenly a great feeling of hopelessness comes upon the earth
And does not seem to leave
He does not go away
And the rain pours
And the man with the dog and the sunken eyes stares
And he won't go  
He won't leave him alone
He smiles
And watches
And won't go away
Won't go away
Won't leave
And In the dark
Nothing changes  
the rain does pour
And the man does stare
And he does watch
And life does go on
And nothing changes

There is a boy over there

            No more than seventeen

No less than insane

(To some, that is. Some who can't see.)

This boy has a friend
(And yet no friends at all)

Who wears a great big mask at night
And makes Donnie feel small

Two universes,
One fate that can't be fought

versus a lonely boy,
a lonely girl,
and all of their genius thoughts

The feather stirs,
She lives!
Howl, she does not,
If she did her breath would mist the stone.

My poor fool,
Hang'd.
Look on her,
Her lips,
Look on her lips.

How pathetic a mirror and a feather
and an old king seem now.
She was Christ-like,
Angelic,
Look on her lips.
The Fool,
Hang'd.

Do you see this?
No breath mists the stone,
No feather stirs,
Look on her,
Look there, look there.

You men have hearts of stone.