As you drop,
brigades marching
at the sky's command.

You are not rejected by the heavens,
rather chosen to act as a
prophet of wet whiteness.

And you coat me
a noble, but ignorant attempt
at giving me warmth,
a job my jacket did exceedingly
well at before
your arrival.

Dancing down with
gravity, the Earth asks
for a cool bath in you.

Expanding my lungs
for you,
I inhale all
of you
And exhale us

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.

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.

Come on now,
smoking?
I thought you were better than that...

Well, you know,
times are hard.
But why shouldn't I?

I have to say,
out of all your attempts
at chasing death,
this has to be your dumbest one to date

Hey man, *******
what do I have to prove to you?
It's not like you ever stuck around for me.
You never taught me right from wrong,
you only told me what was wrong
when it was too late.

It's about her,
isn't it?



isn't it?


Listen man,

It always was

I know what you're thinking but

But I'm right

Yes, okay yes
you're ******* right.
Happy? Is this
what you wanted to hear?

You know,
smoking twenty packs a day
couldn't help you

And your point is?

I can

Listen man,
I'm no charity case
and you know that

I know you miss her

I know you stare at her pictures
when you know nobody is around
and I know you choke back the tears.
I know you never wanted to let her go,


.......


But I know you did

What was I thinking?

You were thinking you could live with out her
that some day, you'd stop thinking about her.
Now, let me ask
How's that working for you?

Why?

Why do you have to kick me while I'm down?


If not me, than who?

Listen,
as far as I'm concerned,
you can sit around and whine and whine
whine and whine
But when it comes down to it,
it's just me and you,
you and me.
But I'm telling you now,
it doesn't have to be like this.
It can be you and her.

Can it?

Only if you want it to be

Life is like
a can opener;
only if you use it
to it's full extent
can you truly enjoy it.

If it's left on the shelf,
it's experience is minute.
However, in a world of
Campbell oceans and corn mountains,
the world needs explorers.

There is diversity in the world
of canned creatures.
But without a can opener,
the baby can breathe no air,
feel no warmth.

Without a can opener,
we have no life,
no blowin' leaves in the wind,
no gazing into a lover's eyes,
no moonlight to dance in your mind

An old man,
of 72 years of life
told me once
not too long ago
not to wear my heart
on my sleeve,
but I never learned
because my heart was
always comfortable
where it was.
And now that
my heart
is on the floor,
weak and mangled,
I am left
with nothing but
the thought of
a few wise words
that would have
saved my heart.

The lingering last of

your lungs in my lungs

leaves me loathing

the life I left.

Out of the
deepest crevices
of me pours
your love,

And on this
bridge we stand,
and let time blow by
like the wind.

Although I know
this love isn't mine,
I'll hold onto this moment
and let this life continue.

When this night
rests itself upon us,
and the children
close there eyes,

My thoughts will stay
steady on your lips,
and the water flowing
under the bridge.

And on this Bridge
I sit and stare
at the rocks laying together;
what could have been.

You are like ice,
the ice I hold in my hand.
I try to give you warmth,
the warmth you desire
just to make you happy.
And yet, you melt
and I am left with
an empty hand,
an empty heart.
You are gone.

Then your return
with your friend salt
expecting my warmth.
You tell me to squeeze
Squeeze my warmth
into you, regardless of my pain.
You beg and plead
wondering where my love is.
It's gone.

As you tempt me,
hanging barely from the tip of a branch,
barely inches from the tip of my fingers,
I hesitate, just for a brief,
but emotional moment;
time slowed around me
waiting at the edge of it's seat
for my decision
to explore the darkest depths
of the forbidden world of
forbidden fruits.

My hand moves closer
by the second,
Fear begging for mercy,
a plead I ignore
as my fingers caress you,
scanning your shape,
squeezing, and feeling your juice
slide down my fingers
and down my wrist.
Your scent calls me in
with promises of wealth & love;
an offer my instinct screams for me
to ignore.

Tell my instinct I'm sorry.

You test a dog on his flight
and a bird on it's bark,
and where are we now?

You teach man to hold a sword
and tell him that his cause is true,
and where are we now?
Where are we now?

You hand the man a book of life
and tell him to abide by it,
and where are we now?

You tell the man of new land
and assure him that it's his,
and where are we now?
Where are we now?

You teach the man to love his brother
and tell him to remember the past,
and where are we now?

You hand the man a bomb
and tell him his cause is right,
and where are we now?
Where are we now?


You stare at the rubble
and curse the heavens above, screaming
"Where are they now?"
But never questioning how we got here.

Whispering in my ear,
you find that I
am weakened by your words

f
  l
    o
       a
          t
        i
     n
  g  

around my brain,
dancing in place
in the center
you are.

The air around you
is so much thicker,
like ice, melting;
dripping on my forehead.
Torturing me, you are
Your fashion of life,
I assume
and I listen,
as the words flow
from your mouth
and I die a little
after every syllable.

In an attempt to
explain myself,
I stutter always.

I am not nervous,
I am calm
but unsure.

As a brain with
feet prancing around
and dancing

*Slurring is my
way of
making art.

She said "okay."
a blistering hit
like a baseball bat
swung at my face,
slowly engulfing it,
leaving nothing but blood & splinters.
And as the icy words
left her lips,
she had frozen the flame
I built for her,
for us,
and stomped the ice,
crushing it, and
leaving it to melt
into the dirt and
Vanish.
And she turned away,
leaving me to trace her path
till I could trace it no more.

*******.

*******, *******, *******.

****

You

fuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyo­ufuckyou

*********.

You can dance
this twisted dance
But before you
intertwine yourself
in this web of
common motion
     ---Know
that once you
are under my spell
this world of
black and white
will breath
and pulsate
to the rhythm
of this enchanting
   ---dance.
We shall pursue.

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

See me through these
colored lines.
I am man.
I am heathen.
My roar arises from
the dirt,
and brings trembling men
to their knees.
I am iron.
The raw stench of
creation at my fingers.
I am sore.
I am wasted.
My thought expels from
the earth,
and forces broken men
to their knees.
I am life. This world of yours is too
large for me.
I am strong.
I am guided.
My light shines over
the roof,
and brings weak men
to their knees.
I am

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.

When a warrior bleeds,
he is remembered as a hero,
slaying innocence
at the tip of the king's tongue.

Yet, when the same man
spills the same blood
for his own cause,
he is a murderer.

Tell me, which is
Justified?

Today is a dark day.
So dark,
in fact,
not even the words
on this very paper (screen)
can describe
the loathing
I have for
myself,
or the will
I lost
to carry on
with my miserable
life.
A day
as dark as
today
is branded with death.
A death that will be conceived as
more of a present,
rather than a punishment.
For, on a day
as dark as today,
my heart would rather
stop beating.

If the world stopped spinning
for just a day,
just a short day,
would you find me?
would you find me
in this shell of a world?
would you try
to make amends?
I'm sorry I wronged you/
Know that I love you
and I'm sorry.
I love you
and
I'm
sorry.

If the world stopped spinning
for just a day,
a short little day,
I would show you
the side you saw before,
many years ago,
a side I claimed to be dead;
a side
I wanted dead
for so long.
A side that loves you.
I still love you.
Know that I'm sorry
and I still love you.
I'm sorry
and
I
still
**Love you

I want to inhale your love,
hold it in deep
So deep,
that you kiss the back
of my throat
and slide your way
down to my lungs.
I will hold you in me for
as long as you'll stay.
Then I'll let the world pull you away
from me

Two poets who couldn't agree
Decided that they'd make three.
They went downtown  
Clowned around
But awoke just to flee.

Lines are just lines
until you give those lines
meaning.
Give those lines
meaning, and you give
those lines life.
Lines with life tell
stories of worlds
within worlds and
dreams only obtained
in our youth.
Lines are a gateway
to the depths of our
brain.
Lines let your heart
breathe sweet air.
Lines will dream and
dream until the dream is
done and all is
well.
Lines are life, if
you let lines live.

In a world of diamonds
and ruby highlights,
one learns that
looking for patterns
in a patch of grass
never works.

No, patterns are far
more plausible.
They play with the mind,
some call it a safe place,
warm and sugared up.
Others call it a curse.

In my world of shades,
a pattern is light
at the end of this long
tunnel pushing further
away until all I can
see is her smile and laugh.

My pattern is no
ordinary pattern.
My pattern is one
to drive one's head crazy
with no direction
heading back.

No, my pattern is no
ordinary pattern.
And yet, your pattern
still haunts me.

“Just end it.”

They scream, as if

their blast to my eardrums weren't enough

when whispered.

“Just end it.”

Live before you breathe

Breathe before you die.

Die before you Regret

Regret before you live.

There is no way
to measure
the weight of a
mother's heart.
Be it the training wheels
you play in my life,
or the assistance
you aid me with,
It's safe to say
I owe you everything.
Because there is no
weight
on a grateful
son's heart.

Don’t leave me, to think. You know
I’ll throw my life away, maybe
just mentally, never fully physically.
Because I hate it,the solitude of my
mind, the constant torture of the
veins of my brain, the straining my
heart endures. But even though I
hate this way, the way my brain
controls my emotions, I like the way
it spawns new life. I like the
way it makes me feel. I like
the way it makes me fade.
It soothes my brain, this loathing
I posses. It makes me feel alive.
And all though I hide from that
feeling, it brews inside, shadowed
by the circumference of my world,
my chamber of thoughts, My
Kingdom, which, by all means, is my life.
I love you, as much as I love me,
which, despite legend, isn't a lot.
But at least now you know what
my brain is like. So don’t
question my sanity. I’m normal.
**Don’t question my sanity. I’m normal.

Ask a man about his life,
His words are grey.

Ask a man about his love,
He speaks only colors.

You see me, but never through me

I am refracted by your light,
my intensity dimmed by your words
and my glow radiates alone.

You see me, but never through me

Pen bleeds life
in a way undescribed
by words

An eloquent dance
of tongue never to
be spoken.

See me again,
Covered in glass armor
for cover.

I am weak
and tremble around your
glowing chastity.

So refined are
your enchanted words flowing
smoothly forward.

All it takes
is a simple "Hello"
to start a world of heartache.

I hope your parents
are proud of you

I hope when you
look in a mirror,

it doesn't laugh
at what you are

and what you
could have been

Because when you
sleep in the dirt

No one will laugh,
but everyone will smile

because they will laugh,
at the waste of life

You prove to be
everyday.