I want all of you.
I want your eyes
and the memories
that hold their hand,
and shushes it so that,
though it's presence is
known and acknowledged,
it is silenced and calm.
I want your smile
that shines the walkway
down your throat,
past your lungs,
and straight to your core.
I want your skin
and the paintings on them,
paintings of days with no sunlight
and straight lines of red.
I want your love.
Every moment of joy and pain
and sorrow and guilt, I want.
I want every goodmorning,
after a night's worth of goodnight.
I want the fear of saying goodbye to you;
knowing that at any moment,
the pit would find it's way back
home in my stomach,
as you're gasping for your last taste
of sweet, sweet air.
I want your love.

I am a chosen man's
claim on unspoken lands.
I am the sea of salt,
whispering down your throat.
I am my father's son,
the world at my fingers.
I am the tyranny,
that is your depression
eating away at your soul
until you are nothing but
a reflection of who you were
and who you wanted to be.
I am death,
the birds chirping your name,
the things you see in the darkest of nights,
the voices you hear when you're all alone.
I am your conscience,
leaving you lonely, battered and alone.
I am the dream you don't want to dream,
I am the words you're afraid to hear,
I am the reason you hate your lie,
I am the thought that keeps you up at night.
I am you,
and you are me.

Yes,
I am death,
and I am
the reason for the chills that run down your spine,
and the reason your heart
is trying to escape your chest.
I am the tear
that swells in your eye
as you shadow me from
the light of day.
I am the choice
you make everyday
to run away from
the dull existence you know
too well.
I am your pain,
I am inside your head,
I am your fear of death,
I am the weight on your shoulders,
I am your insecurities,
I am your want for death,
I am your father's shame,
I am SCREAMING your name.
I am you,
and you are me

There is a dark cloud
floating over her shoulder,
but that is not rain
running down her face.

She is a tired soul
with ears that are bare
and sore from the Thunder
screaming word-like daggers.

Worn to the bone,
the wind rips away
her smooth skin shield
that she hid behind.


But the sun will kiss you yet again,
whipping the rain from your face
and covering your ears.
The Sun will be your shield
when he arises.

I find that when
I'm covered in soap,
my mind wonders the most.

.   .   .   .

Racing down my face
is a streak of blood,
a betrayal of my body,
it longs to feel air
because it's jealous of my skin.

.   .   .   .

He hands me a cigarette,
a gesture of friendship
which I respectfully decline
because time can heal wounds,
but it takes more than
a few seconds of silence
to rekindle a friendship.

.   .   .   .

The wind clings
the blood to my face
a reminder of your betrayal
and I wish it would go away
but It can't, can it?

.   .   .   .

And the soap washes the
red off my face, down the drain
shaping my aspirations of flying away.

The Sheppard strokes the sheep
assuring peace with every wave of his hand.
Weary to the Wolf’s eyes
as he gazes onward,
red his eyes will glow
with imagination.

In his mind he is
picking wool from his teeth;
a blood-filled smile as
the Sheppard weeps a
river of tears and
the Wolf chuckles to
himself, looming over the
mountains of carcasses.
He steps forward to the
Sheppard ~ now on his knees begging ~
and lays his paw on the man’s
head, laughing hysterically
at the Sheppard’s defeat, the
tears rolling down the Sheppard’s cheeks
as he holds the blood-soaked wool in
his hand, but
The Wolf spares no mercy.

The Sheppard sends the sheep
to their pen to sleep the night away.
Weary are the Wolf’s eyes
as his gaze is turned away.
Red his paws will drop,
He will return another day.

The feeling
of you wrapping yourself
around me,
feeling me

poke

your soul
and kiss
your tracks

follow you to
the forrest
and get lost.


Lost in your
eyes
Lost in your
ways
Lost in your waves
Lost in your
eyes

I'm lost in you.