Blasted armor cracked open with holes
Watch as I crawl on my knees til I find
The right place to stand. Pay no mind
To the pain wracking burned flesh to
The pain of memories empty now
In regret after so many years spent
Trying to escape, desperately forget
All of the wounds that made me the
Fire I am.

These days my fire still burns down low
I can't forget if I wanted and I did and
And it drove me underneath. Unearth
Me now in this old aching body to
Undermine my quest for rest.
I sure it's just death now bringing
Death and I'm a part of it.

Cog. In the dirt. Wet earth.
I rise. With all of my brethren.
Reclaim. Reclaimers hunt and
Claim during night. Safety in
Day. That's a queer sunset isn't it?

I came here ******, left the same way,
Returned with cracks in the head
And a heart of mud full of maggots
As an *****. We all did. We do.
We all did.

Haven asked to provide my voice
To stick out my neck for the
Cause of continued well-being
Of the whole cast
But I can't begin to begin
The charade. I accept the
Knife for only one reason: the pay.

Yes I do this. To line my pockets.
I don't care if your work life
Burns you alive. I return home
To provide and you're dense if
Another way makes more sense.
Shut up, cause it doesn't. I'm
Right and you're wrong. I want
Nothing to do with this song.
Let me retire in peace.
Shut the **** up.
Shut it off.
We mix the two and it hurts.

I've got a **** right there between my legs
It hangs and grows like another ***** might
It's a shame the reality goes over your head
I **** sometimes like a **** truck punching
On all cylinders, I **** sometimes lying
With legs open wanting and exposed
I've got a **** right there between my legs
It hangs and grows like any **** does
It's a shame reality goes right over your head
I altered my consciousness.
I altered my brain.
I altered my hormones.
My testosterone's gone.
My estrogen's over ******* full.
Call me what you want but
My experience is beyond.
Beyond.

"My home life isn't the best," I said.
"It doesn't have to be," she said.


BADLANDS BLEAT


Okay, I said it again. Getting out of bed was the worst part of the day. To begin, the marijuana haze from the night before never went away and left me sore. Sure it was likely enough to ease some of the pain, but in the morning my body stood and got to working slowly like it wasn't eager at all. Only the thought of fast food coffee got me pumped up, not even half-mast at that. If the **** I called erotica to save face couldn't bribe a competent rise out of me, the daily grind certainly couldn't get it done. Impetus again, every time in two week increments. Sure, I had money in the pockets of my sweat pants for the coffee and treats that I charged on a credit card years ago when I had the means -- but I was living with family. A prison sentence delivered by a cruel twist of fate that I caused myself in the first place. Nothing to blame but the errors in my own transactions. Much better than before, still not in charge of anything more than my mistakes. I didn't talk much. Who needed to know? I fulfilled the bare basic requirements of my peers so I could stay stealth. I had pills to eat. I ate them at home. I had meals to eat, and I ate them alone. Company was always safer to keep in a cigarette. Lucky me, when I ran into other smokers you would think they spoke for a need to keep their lips wet. There was a freedom in the chance to sit around a circle taking in information without the pressure to reciprocate. Four years running, I'd made choices in the Fall that brought all my work down. The scribbles and notes attached to cork board, reliably lost in a pile of clothes, paper and thumb tacks. Living with no other luggage made the journey more bearable during the dark days. It helped practice ignorance of others when I barely kept myself well.

At this point I feel like the universe is mocking me.
It might not be that I don't see god, but that I can't.
The past comes fast to bite my heels every time I
think that I'm making progress. I'm wiser now than
I was before, it's clear, I affirm as I take today's pills
so I can step out the door. Suicide was a big deal
but I never did it. Over time I realized how good
it is to choose friends. How safe it is to manipulate --
over self-destruction, what an improvement. A
sad sea of years is only bad with a lack of grasp
on the force that pushes you with an eager
wind. How safe is it to say, simply that I've changed
for the better and made improvement?

We broke the truce way back when,
you thought I was God and I couldn't prove it.

History repeats with a new veneer. A new sheen
to improve the wrapping of the package.
The package's contents remain the same.
History repeats with a new veneer. A new sheen
to improve the wrapping of the package.
The package's contents remain the same.
History repeats with a new veneer. A new sheen
to improve the wrapping of the package.
The package's contents remain the same.

I say I'm
not looking
for love but
I'm looking
I'm catching
cold glances
from eyes filled
with the weight of
sorrow been cast in gold
My purposeful fingers
reach up for money from
the gutters, this,
is just what I'm told.
Enter my ears,
enter my eyes,
enter my skin,
into my lungs.
I'm not breathing
oxygen if I exhale
byproduct. I'm out
of luck, won't press it.
I'm out of reason in
speech. Beyond
preventable death.
Regret, turned to
malice. Chest
compression. I
could have been
a good person.
What value in gold,
if I have you?

Man becomes woman woman becomes man
headline dictation that makes you understand
but what's this? The scene goes beyond extremes,
the black/white photograph is of color underneath.
But **** me, I'm being erratic. I'm standing on tables
shouting so your disdain's automatic. What's up with
this new fad? Uhmurika never had it this bad. We have
a literal metric ton of whining millennials wanting to be
special snowflakes. Man, who could take all of this social
pressure? Being held accountable for a miserable, literal lack
of knowledge about the world around us? Man, definitely not
for me. But seriously, bro, did you get your **** cut off? What's
up bro, **** you get your **** sewn on? That ******* ***** lacks
a ******. That motha ***** lacks the design that gives him a similar
package when his blood pressure rises. Don't talk to me about feelings
before you've had the operation -- because before you've done that step
it's better if you don't implore my empathy or patience because you're
just not real, I won't feel the weight of your complaints and frustrations.
Matter of fact, for you, ess jay dub, my emotional core's on vacation.

Leave me alone with your dialogue.
Discourse is not for me.
Leave me alone with your dialogue.
How do you prefer to ***?

Is it this hard to admit to your audience there's something else outside
yourself? I can see how defining the lines with alacrity makes it easier
to breathe the air you breathe to stay alive. It must be nice to stand tall
and be you and not have to bray declarations of self to stay confident
and true to the compass. Walking is all it ever takes you yet when I say,
"Actually [...]" it's enough to make you think it's me getting in your face
with another liberal lecture, but I'm just keeping real straightforward
about which terms I prefer in our vernacular. Shut up, you **** up, we
advocate for your finish, only requiring you fit into our premise.

Leave me alone with your dialogue.
Discourse is just not for me.
Leave me alone with your dialogue.
How do you prefer to ***?

I just think it's best to have some canned material
in case you need it.

To answer your question, it could be I stopped believing
years ago when I sent my friend before the chopping block.
Stop! I'll sell information for passage.
Stop! I'm scared to death of dying.
Where she lives.
Such a shame.
Where she hangs.
I'll take the blame.
Where she showers, even.
Stop! I'll give you the words you want if you make this hurting stop.
Stop! You don't have to crack my brain open with a hammer chop,
you don't have to use pliers to pry what you want from my head,
when you can listen to me talk freely, then take the message and run.
Where she lives.
Such a shame.
Where she hangs.
I'll take the blame.
So much will change.
Where she showers, even.

But if you call for me, I'll be there.
Wearing a straight face that's
driven me here, so insane, I don't
care how rapidly my conscience
eats the very strength on which
I stand. I'm alive without the will to live.
But if you call for me, I'll  be there.
Wearing a straight face.

This whole line of life stinks
because I had to tell a lie
to keep the peace between
my children.
This city knows no sun.
From the rain, there's nowhere to run.
I love windows now more
than ever.

Hold me, walls, I can count that you're stable
the mistakes I distribute on the daily straight
from my pockets, I feel sure and safely better
disconnected. The actions I bring in tether and
tow absolutely have no bearing on whether
you're standing tall. No. My children won't
be all aboard this orchestra. Complete erasure
is the one remaining measure to take. I won't
deliver their fate. I won't deliver their fate.

Hate me. Why not take an arm off?
Maybe my arm's already gone and missing.
Maybe tonight's the night I won't
wake from sleeping.
Shame as pestilence incarnate
rakes my beating heart and brain.
Nails as sharp as shards of memory.
I ingest the scent of corpses in a
cold storage adorned with limbs and organs,
underneath the floor of that burned
out/burned in periphery beneath the rain.

Sprang up again, arose in sweat,
toward the toilet. Some things never change.
Will this never change?

Hard jobs **** up my night,
and I can't rest in day.
Hard jobs **** up my day,
and I can't rest through night,
but I cannot stay awake.
What came before comes now,
becomes the future, turning loops.
The present keeps pace steady, only to
slide the Earth below me to prove

Some things never change.

Come join the fun at the club,
it's a new dream. A real good one.
-- It's a nightmare.
Hear these words stare into my eyes,
find a doorway. Sense of safety.
Fall on sword for those you adore
to claim escape. By deception.
-- It's a nightmare.

Flesh and bone, muscle covering.
This is more than just ***.
I am alone, but for you.
This is a servant's one wish:
To serve and not regret it.
How I wish I could change
the answer, but it won't change.

Enjoy the drugs well enough?
Had your music? Then leave with me.
-- It's a nightmare.
Rip my shirt, uncover my flesh
in the alley. That's a good dog.
Lick my heels and follow me, still.
Why did you bite in the first place?
-- In the first place.

Flesh and bone, muscle covering.
This is more than just ***.
I am alone, but for you.
This is a servant's one wish:
To serve and not regret it.
How I wish I could change
the answer, but it won't change.

I realize how you must see me.
I assure you, there's another side.
When you wake up next you
won't remember any part of this.
I'll be an eternal ghost as I get shoved
out of the picture as quick as you met me.

Please be still, I want you in pain,
but not that much. You're difficult.
-- He's a nightmare.
I like you undressed down to the flesh.
Your skin creases to the bone saw.
Don't speak words, but scream as you please.
I need music. I need trophies.

So you want to use me?
So you want to see where is the edge?
Your aim isn't to light gas on fire so
much as find the flashpoint
definitively so when you come back
you'll be in that safety zone, the
one where you retain full control
over each crease and fold
But each moment to unwind
my eyes roll up, tune out, my
memories display corporeal
because it's my distinct disorder
I live in fear of the guilt
my only reprieve found in glass
containing first liquid and plant
consumed into ash and emptiness
that grants me passage to escape
to pen and paper may in the
end, only leave me mindful

I'm not the money tree grown
on the coastal
cliffside, nor the home
you've been dreaming up
worlds away from here
-- Gone
When I know I am
-- Gone
Worlds away from here
-- Gone
What will I do
-- With my new papers
With so much freedom?
Free from shackles and
collar

I wasn't born for you,
born from you

How's it come to this?
I thought you were in my corner
But not
With a gun!

I've only been as astute
as you've asked me.
I've only taken opportunity
where it presents itself.
Like you taught me,
there's nothing wrong
with taking the things
right in front of you
if there's something there
you want
bad enough.

I should have put you to death
the first moment I realized you
were out
of control!

There was no control for you
from the beginning
were you so lost in yourself
you weren't paying attention
to the fact that I've been
pushing you aside
while I slip inside?
I've been at the helm
longer than you imagine
I've been steering this ship
into hysteria.

All I've lost.
All I gave.
All I offered expecting
favor in exchange.
All I've lost
I let you take
while I stood by
digging my grave.
You have no respect for me
or for any other. The love
innate I prayed to wither away
reflected from waking wide
eyes only in hate.

There hasn't been a day gone by since I first said this to you,
that my undying romantic dream is to respect and believe in
the terrible things you do. Last time I saw you blessed to touch
another human's heart when they believed you would remove
the rust you just stood in acceptance with palms open knowing
you would soon shut your hands. You're a trap for madness.
Blessed too, from birth to death, with a magic attracting the
most fragile, those mostly broken already. Those farther from
full than empty. Now and again I question if you know what
you're doing or if you're possessed.

Years later, you're still sitting and spinning where others improved.
Boys, toys, and nicotine mixed with THC in the air to breathe.
What mattered the most even to those who never spoke the words,
you let impress the stress marks on your couch. And here you
thought stretch marks and acne scars were the worst of life, and
now you've got stretch marks and acne scars, must be due in
part to the confidence you'd be no better off. Now you're no better
off, than you were before. Now it's five years on, and you've
learned nothing more.

I can say
Maybe I'd believe you
If you weren't
so prone to hard
stop/restart

The sky is so polluted but it's beautiful, isn't it though?
Feel bad, so to relax, sit outside 7-Eleven with a smoke.
With the way I hold my head you can't even tell I'm poor.
Or maybe you can, because "What's that?" You ask. It's
the loose change in my pockets overfilled to the spilling
You hear me walking, it's no-cash, it's no-wash, the half
blood broke ***. All the bad habits, no natural habitat.
Clothes from the Village feel almost as fine on your flesh
as the high class new tags from the corner off 5th/Saks
What makes you happy? What makes you happy?
With just a little more coming in you could finance your
fantasy, or get more freak and nasty. Green is the color
on top of the clouds that catches you falling before the ground.
Shuck corn, remorseless, you can get it paid. Mesmerize
at the numbers rising higher and higher, coerced too
easily to enjoy your stay. What makes you happy?
What makes you happy? The view from the penthouse
on top of the city. Pity. There's no love in the home you
built. There's no cause no effect no affection waking
you up to touch the world with the passion igniting
your eyes and pulsing out your fingertips. One step
from homelessness without one hope, but faith is
a better replacement in the end and I've got faith
in code.

I don't think I've ever been so far out of step in time
To return to the words pointing me further on the path
I burn the last drop of residual hate and manipulation
techniques while I'm walking, no stopping if I want
it gone.

But it doesn't take.

So I'm back at the point I was at before I decided
not to let my destiny disperse into happenstance.
I swear deja vu is just mindfulness of reality in
any moment it's happening. No, I've not been here.
I synchronize myself. No, I've not been here
but I remember this disturbing smell.
Oh ****, I messed up again.

Flip this tape.

Two souls beside, tied to a rock
inside arid wasteland
both wanting for
something or other and as the sky
drawing dark tells signs
wanting no more than to ignore
the coming storm, sidle
around in eager circles

Red, washing anger
down in rain
a divine cycle
dividing faith
from absolution's
true face
What do you look like, life?
To transcribe is my intent
but it's hard to begin to find when I'm
your invention, indentured

You are present
you are present
you are science, philosophy, nature and hate
you are the tempest and conduit
you are the energy forming and reforming
you have the power
to choose, to do, you do

Then why am I losing faith?
Then why has it come to this
juncture, where light I found
is lost
Puncture my lungs, go ahead
because
You won't let me back inside
from the slippery precipice
Abyssal black night tide draws
closer

You won't lend to me the confidence
to enter, once again, the single
place I stand

With just the right
subtle jump
out of body
I descend
It's not the pain that crushes
my chest, it's not the rain
making my face wet, only
the mental sleight
of hand

Bear rejection
Bare deception
Pry the cork from wine
to try time from bottle
Bare the right bane
Bear the wrong boon
Mention this slip to only one
calamitous

So what I drink all my calories
I'm sane and you're not, bruh
It's never enough even to wear
what you're wearing and talk
like you talk, do you even care?
Killing myself keeping things legit in your sphere
Black sheep combine forces to feel
wanted, keeping your company
I feel blocked when you're nodding.
Yes, I'm acting just like you want me,
bruh, I'm coming up short to your haughti
ness, blessed with a sense of self
stopping just short of your level and
what the hell, what I am doing here
fighting for otherness, concerned
with the purity of water of my brothers
and my sisters of the covenant
You talk about faith when it comes
to prey that you're stalking, keep
it strong, yolo, fleek, and a hashtag
To be honest I'm scared that my hometown
will be infested with those the internet
claimed and ingest, swallowed with
speed of light, people spit out as pesticide
turning the verdant green such a ****** brown
Yes you're so on top and classy, lacking
purposely the tenets that turn a body fancy
Cool *** beard bro, girl that's a freak ***
hairdo, up in the midst short sides a pool cue
locked in your hands up inside a ******* dive bar,
midnight drive holding a pipe 'hind your
headlights, Yes you're mixing with the best
making them arrogant, such a lens to view
the struggles they been through, Weird queer
younglings in their late twenties and homeless
at some point, only the noise of the sirens
and blue lit bathrooms, keeper of the needle
rights, and happiness,5-0 lights blasting on naito, picking
on the kids white/brown outside washing
the day away with the kiss of the pabst
taking a nap on the grass on the waterfront
blessed with lives with beards and queers
passing by as they want one.

So it seems I am relinquished
has come to this, that I can't
hold my body on my own
be the shoulder for my head
be my own mission
with a fingertip to my lips
I own this and don't have
to say anything when I do
My case is as I do
let me show you
Let me know you
as I, as you do
So it seems I cannot breathe when
I get winded explaining
in detail each of my moves
I pull the rope to curtain
revel and withhold
specific miseries as I wish
I own this and don't have
to say anything when I do
My case is as I do
let me show you
Let me know you
as I, as you do

Thank you for dinner, sorry I can't stay
sorry I was born, sorry I can't pay
Sorry I was around
when you'd have me gone
Sorry I got quiet
when you went to turn me up
The road ahead for me
the road behind for you
Should have packed and left you at night
so I could finally pass death into the daylight
Awarded for the conscious service I provide:
Nothing
Nothin?
Nothing but crutches with smudges
catching must in the closet touching
another box in its depressing square
Pictures, I burn them
Dish? I break that.
I'm just another broke ***** barefoot in a haystack
Your clothes get acid
Heart? I sever the artery.
I'm just another childhood ruined with adult bad

He's standing there
in shadow
right outside your door
Compounding fear,
physical,
as he says he loves me
Treasure he wants
from a heart
he'll swim under blood for
what is to gain
causing loss
always worthwhile more

Here in Holden I forget all the memories acquired in sun
They all tumble and I could stop it if I wanted to stop
Pouring ***** in my head as a song before bed
Two-****** whiskey drinker caught in the present,
Displaced in time. And another and another til
she upgrades to doubles at no extra charge cause
she loves how my face 'round means she's safe at least
til I leave and she's sweet and pays me in drinks I
don't need as bad as money and a stable place.
Here in Holden B-Block I play games with my memories
I tumble hard and I could stop it if I wanted to stop
Too fun to open a door and fall through the floor
to the blackness of past as you stand from your stool
to play pool in the back as you can't keep your cool
so you retreat. Always retreat.
Here in Holden, underground, I **** on the memories
I made under sun now
bathed only in krypton light
scaring cats from the cans
behind the brush as I
rush to get it all out.
Spit it all.

See, it's like this. What I feel is dependent on what's real.
And I do to the people and things around me what it
takes to protect them and keep them intact. Most of
the time. Though in fact, doing to the tune of truth
isn't always the best act. You can't withhold what
others share, create or damage. You can withhold
what you share with others. And from you, my brother,
I do believe after reflecting til the present time, I
and you would have been fine if I had actually
stopped and thought about what actually was best.
But instead I stepped out of bounds you'd set
that I'd confirmed and said yes, to put my own
needs first in the name love -- something or other --
and not stop till I had your ex. You even confronted me
and said it wasn't a trip you could handle emotionally.
**** me. It was no accident, it remains that I could have
prevented an incident, now I'm ashamed of myself
for disrespecting another who discovered me young
and kept close, even when I couldn't keep my nose clean.
Maybe I can't, still. I'm sitting sipping at four hour old
coffee in a diner alone to still the upset. But I can't do.
I can't hold it in any longer. I've been a bad person
paying a part of the toll in deep regret. I can't forget
that I owe you more than I could ever say. That's
why I'm writing you on a legal tablet at midnight,
a dozen or more yellow pages with an empty pen
scratching holes bathed in the laserlight. I guess
I'm in the past again, writing you, groping for
parts I know must still be there to fill the holes
in my heart as hard as it is to admit cause I know
there's no redemption.

He said I got all my life ahead of me
to stop kicking my teeth in when
it's not others delivering kicks
covering me in spit in passing
Life is the essence of difficult
leaving you being and breathing
and thinking when all you want
is the option to disappear but
it's the fear, so clear, when you're
alone or homeless or in a pit
that ain't six feet that it easily seems
descending, that is the definite call
to action, man, I can't say the words
to save you, you're in your own hands
but if you're listening stop pretending
that you can't hear the reverberation
on your insides. Maybe you'll die
young and me too, but not with the
mind's eye closed that's why I plea
to keep you running on empty when
you're friendless, when you're so far
from blessed, you're cursed, and wishing
for an enemy. Hate me now for the truth,
I don't hate you. Stare down at the ground
at your shoes if it pays, I can't help but
notice you notice you're built for more,
and you're due.

And then he comes in. Like a whirlwind.
Flipping his arms and crossing them,
can't tell if he's plotting or genuine in
his vehemence. Virulent eyes compliment
perfectly venomous sentences or just
as quick turn icy blue if it's better to give
me the shoulder. He can't believe to this
day I'd betray what was left of his confidence
in me and I ain't going to lie I've been a liar
caught in the web I thought I had protection
against. He saw me there by the sidewalk
then caught up in happenstance, cavorting
with an upsetting ghost supposed to be left
in the past, but he don't understand, I can
shut off the phone or ignore every message
received in belief and knowing I deserve
more than this woman ever gave, but I refuse
to be cruel with active intention to a life
I simply have no other choice but to rearrange.
He said, I hope you're not doing this for me
when I started to change, to climb higher
and rise up from the grave I'd been digging
out for myself with utter complacency,
shedding passivity for determination in exchange
and in the end it all seemed good till a misstep,
hell you invited me back into the bed where
you slept so we could be together and both sleep.
Call me naive. Dependent. **** it, I guess I was
but I now I understand being played by a hypocrite.
Nothing can be every way for you, so now
that I'm getting up on two feet you feel you
can't be a friend to me. Rather than take a breath
to exhale your bitterness you'd expel me with
superficial rage hiding indifference. Called naive.
Dependent. **** it, I guess I was but now
I understand what you said before, yes,
and I'll take a stand, I'm worth about as much
work as I'm putting in, to the mind I am, to
the body I hold, but it's old. I doubt you're
listening. History repeats. You build me
up. You destroy me. You fill my heart.
You silence beats. You power me.
You're wearing down my energy.
I'm off work. So I'm sitting down
under the open sign at Marian's
with a cigarette.

Half white, half other
Mother of a soon to be
Born from an intent at backlash
Mother of a born to be
Plastic spoon in a microwave
Destitute, minimal,
designer criminal
Bun in the oven
Baby be coming
Out of any mind to choose
Mother of a soon to be
Potential property to bruise
Heidegger enlisted to the off-side
Probably due to the wave before
Baby lost to the in and out
of control, vessel of the past and preordained
Prescribed a will denying the innate
All joke, all alone
Began to end in a hot flash
Mother of a soon to be
Giveaway

Here comes the sun in all its glory
tracing the hemisphere in its slow
rise over rubble, but first the tallest
steel and concrete dedications to
the lives living high while their
green shadow casts below over
the desecrated. I see bright night light
shining blue. I see wide, wild light
only high noon. Morning, all day
veins are caving under the rubble
under the tallest.
Here comes the nasty truth, suited
in belts clasped with wealth for
well being, beating the lies with
a dollar sign, until the ugliness
of the first story presses like
meat into the underneath, under
the detritus concealing lives in
the dirt with the needles.
I see bright night light shining blue
in the park restrooms. I see wide, wild
light only high noon from the under-bridge,
waiting for trains to come crush.

I'd like to eat, but I'm sleepless
waking while seeing the sun rest
greeting again before I shut my eyes
to the day that I endlessly live.
I'd like to dream, but I'm dreamless
to demands of fear from my brain
where it sits in the head controlling
impulse then flooding just when it wants.

I'll **** your **** for a five or a ten
and here when you thought you'd
never find a silent friend.
I'm on the cheap should you need me,
for a tap on the fingertips.

I'd like to be where you all say no
to the presence of reverie
in the face of the guarantee
I'm preemptively broke
for the moment of falling down
where I wave and I bring you in
to home and a ******* meal

Do you believe the powers come from heaven in rain?
Denounce the brittle, little lies that keep you detained.
With one fell swoop your family denies that womb water
from their line ever held you. Our child, disgraceful.
Hold me now, wicked wind, in twilight to find truth,
for no amount of trying will mend the boards began
pried to the point of breaking right loose. Glue won't
fix this rift. Don't worry, I find it nice that some do
get to choose. Ungrateful mug, she rejected our
love by walking with her brow upright. Beaten none,
for the patchwork of lashes mashed in back above
the *** of property, branded and pushed in.

The sky will call a caw for you on one more day
you kept yourself from death, promising to do
your due, never invite the listless, self-inflicted
sorrow, others lip to ear in shadow gaslight to
imbue. One more day others in shadow decline
interview.

I. Will sing a prayer.
(She denies the gods given)
I. Own nothing to give.
(Free and kindly)
I. Will sing.
As much and where I would like to sing.
(She's another one with a will)
Not crying at the back of the world, not holding just to hold.
(She's another one who hunts happiness as if to others she's disappeared)
Not stopping to cry back at the ceiling holding me
to the floor in a box as its missing pieces

(When she's only a another piece)

"Each one I meet is the same. You cherish until absent, and then every word, every action passed turns to a weapon. Your respect vanishes with the feet that take the face away, as if moving the body moves the mind and heart in tow. Do you think I ever stop feeling? As if affection ends with the eye? Even black Death would not rend my love, while you and the rest alive color me and fill my cup with hate."

                                              -- Sky-Rend to Beryl at WasteGate

Another morning rolling over
left with nothing but refuse
close to hand
Another mourning over bodies
left to nothing but rolling
endless land
Could I feel the moment less lonely
I would appreciate your face
but where are all the others
who pull us out of our space
to reinvigorate the closeness?
I'm hopeless, I know,
distraught forever over
homes I'll never know
as well as the scenarios
I step into to shoulder
the weight I cannot lift myself

Wander on,
Walk N'shora sharing sights
between four eyes that I
would rather two,
but you,
keep me holding close
the fear of how
you would construe
the whole without
the words you need
that choke me

O,
Row from the tabletops if,
If, if
Row from the tabletops if,
or when
O,
Burn at the fun'ral pyre,
pyre
Burn under heaven's fire,
fire

Stop me if you hear this one,
under the flesh
heavy wantonness,
energy light to dance
moves behind your lid
undo the flesh
future corpses do dance
do dance

O,
Future corpses do dance
do dance

"I fear once the time for friends ends, my desire
would leave me exposed to the ill kept as well
from enemies, leave me forgotten, misfit for both."

                                        -- Beryl to Sky-Rend

She comes with a body. Lithe, plain.
Two things Warchief said no, don't chew.
Don't disgrace the Orc way.
If you transgress it better be just to
rip off her arms. You're in my palm.
(I'm in whose palm?)
He comes with a presence. Foreign.
Alien of the Karwa Wastes.
Don't you pass this chance on.
You recognize, don't you, when
better comes along? You're in my palm.
(I'm in whose palm?)
Douse the candles in the war hall
for me my lines arrested caught
in the splinters of dry throat
won't reach the thunderous cry
you repress, to release me.

If only luck would up and show
fortune for the fortunately
clinging on,
those blessed with life
though impetus bent
for one toe only touching the floor
with a venomous claw
for virulence and love
both impediment to the **** we gnaw
if only luck would wind a boot
to the fortunately clinging on
those blessed with life only
danger dismissed with no teeth
fortune for the titanic maw