Some say there's nothing to fear except fear itself.
But when we can be mentally paralyzed by the musings of a poet,
Doesn't that mean we should fear expression?

Kindness to weakness,
Desperation to deception,
The point is that I'm back.
For how long?
We'll see.
But I got a lot to get outta my system.

Sleepless by starlight
Lining the clouds with silver
A shimmering rain paints
The ground below
With chrome

I've danced for so long,
Driven by the ambitions of others.
Any girl that wandered into the dusty back room,
Picked me up off of my hook
And gave me music to dance to
Was the girl I loved.
For so long,
I danced and danced,
But then I was set aside
Until discovered again.
Each time the current puppeteer grew tired of her toy,
She would drop me in a heap.
And so happened time and time again.
With each new puppeteer I changed a little more,
Until I no longer felt the need to dance.
Then, after a while of thinking,
I stoop up and walked over to a desk in the corner.
In the desk there was a drawer.
In the drawer was a knife.
And now my strings are gone.
I still dance sometimes,
But I dance by myself,
Not driven by a need to be loved.
But by a need to maintain my insanity.
This makes little sense I guess.
What do you expect?
I'm just a little wooden puppet.
With no strings,
No puppeteer,
And no hook to hang on.
Even Pinocchio got out from time to time.
But that little ******* wasn't aware of how ******* lucky he really was.

No, not always.
Without oxygen
Or sufficient fuel
The flames will die.
Though I will be honest,
There are flames I thought
Had been extinguished,
That I now think
I make have been
Mistaken about.
I don't think gasoline would help.
It tends to explode,
And I'm already in so many peices.

Rain and tears fall
As the flame climbs,
The wick turns to dust,
And the candle burns out.

You turned your back
And gave your reasons.
"I can't do this anymore."
You said I didn't try anymore.
That we fell apart because of me.
That I should've called you
Every morning when you woke up.
That I should have texted you
Whenever I had a free moment.
But you never considered that
I worked 80 hours a week.
You never considered that
You could have called or texted me.
And you never considered that
Telling me I should have "fought for you"
Is absolute *******.
Because you should never expect me
To fight a war,
When you're ready to surrender at any time.
Get the **** over yourself.

For sure
Bronze has stronger draw
Than silver.
Though silver
Made me who I am.
It started at the tip of my tongue
Coaxed it's way down my throat
And coated my lungs
Sweeter than honey
Yet sharper than steel.
It recoiled, however
Returning to nothing
So I thought nothing more
Of the things that shine in this world.
Silver was what I chose
Because silver was pure.
Silver cannot be blamed
For the sin that passes the lips.
For whatever alloy
Coated my airways
The message
Would have been
The same.
The only alteration
In the delivery.
Our past is shameful,
Mine especially,
Yet they have no bearing
On our future.
As the choice in metal
Has no bearing
On the words spoken.

Every brushstroke
A scream
Every sentence
A body
We hide our anger
Our frustration
Our catharsis
In pretty colors
And euphamisms.
Better to misdirect
Than to act.

As a boy,
I frequented the crossroads
Conversing with Paimon.
The Demon king was loath
to be summoned by a child,
But so it had been.
Of many things I learned,
Of gain, loss, love and hate.
But the most useful thing he taught me Was: "To thine own self be true."

I grow weary of this world
As I have time and time again.
The rush to rise in status,
To earn pointless promotions.
To find love,
To form connections.
It's an endless cycle
Of ups and downs.
To be happy on the good days
And numb on the bad to survive.
The battlements have stood barren
For far too long.
I will rebuild
And reinforce the stone.
For now I will rest in my cage
And let the world burn itself to ash
As the angels keep whispering
You will be saved
In a world that's beyond saving.

A
Few
Too
Many
Times
Have I
Lost it
Never to find it
Again
Dead
Gone

What, then
Do you recommend
For reverberation
Of the soul?
When nature
In all her glory
Decides instead
To turn the heavens
Into an assault.
Pouring thunder,
Lightning
Down my throat
As I pour the dark
Sludge of resentment
From my ears
In return.

Dreams are just that.
Meanderings of mind,
Willful yet unconscious distraction.
Something to fill the darker hours
As we float around inside our heads
Falsely fulfilling a fantasy.
Whether romance or ******
Remains to be seen.
There are no heroes,
Just self righteous warriors
Waving their banners
And yelling over each other,
To try to drown out your doubts
About their intentions.

I'm tired of writing about
Things that are above me.
I can't speak for the Gods
When they won't speak to me
In the first place.

A fair point,
But you know me.
I've never been good
At drawing my own map.
There's too many
Straight lines.
Besides, my hands shake
Too much.

You sit,
Spreading poison.
The vegetation where you lurk has all withered and died.
The acid in your words causes the very dirt to smolder.
A word of caution.
I protect those near to me.
A war against her is a war against me.
And in a war of words the silver tongue has never lost.
All of my metaphors are at her disposal.
This will get worse for you if you don't surrender.
On second thought...
Waving a white flag would be a wasted effort.
You should start running now.
While you still have the opportunity.

Death stopped me today,
On the sidewalk outside
Of a Dairy Queen.
She asked me if I was afraid.
I smiled and said

"Mistress Death, I am
Far from frightened. I welcome
You as a friend. I've written about
You enough that I've come
To understand the fact that you
Are alien to me."

I gestured for her to follow
And we went inside,
Sitting at a corner table
With two vanilla ice creams.
She asked of me.

"What has become of you?
You used to cherish the dark.
You herded and bred my children.
Have you given up on
The darker side of life?"

I finished my cone.

"I have not given up a thing.
I've found a purpose
And a future for myself.
I've built a life worth living.
I may no longer be your disciple,
But I still consider you a mentor.
And one of my truest friends.
When it is my name called,
I will be happy to walk into
The dark at your side.
But until that day,
I will live my life as a fire.
Burning bright,
And keeping those
in my presence
Warm."

And I departed.

There's a reason
That I identify as a being
With four legs,
A tail and sharp teeth.
Paws, swiveling ears,
And a cold wet nose.
A life as a wolf is simpler.
**** or be killed,
Eat or be eaten.
Protect the pack,
And always stay loyal to your mate.
Except when you don't have a pack,
And your mate left you lost.
I can survive alone if I have to.

It seems to get harder
To find the right words.
The older I get,
The more my silver tongue corrodes.
I remember days,
Not so long ago,
When I would write anthems,
When I would weave legends of intrigue
And my words would steady
The hopeless,
And help them to fight on.
But I've realized,
I saw only what I wanted to.
I saw an empty library as a battlefield,
And the scattered patrons as soldiers.
I saw myself as an Angel,
When I was nothing but delusional.
My words have touched but a few,
And made no difference.
My legacy is nonexistent.
My words worth only their weight
In well wishes.
Completely worthless.

That means something
Very different
To both of us.
The rushing water
May work as your filter
But we both know
That to purge
I need pain
Blood
To force out the hurt.

It may be a finite resource,
But it's most precious.
Rich with iron,
The only ****** fluid with
Which you can smith
A sword.
You know I've always
Felt more at home
In the dark.
Treading water
Is sometimes
Too much.
And I'll return to
The dirt when
It's my time
To do so.
The only thing that
I know for sure
Is that pain doesn't
Feel real
Unless it comes from within.

Hear them,
The desperate cries
Of starving children,
The mewling of cubs
Too young to fight.
The breaking of bones,
The strained silence
After the screaming stops.
This is my nighttime melody.
*How else can I keep my brain busy?

I take it back.
The dead don't lie.
They exist in truth.
The living could learn from them.

I'd like to return there
To tiptoe between the cracked hulls
Gilded with rust as if golden pillars.
Our faces reflected
In the puddles on the floor
Uncharacteristically happy
For though we were soaked
With despair
We were warmed
By an exchange of emotion.
It's true,
Passage of time dulled the shine
As honeyed words grew bitter
Yet inspiration always returns.
The boards can be fixed.
Remember, it is never too late
To chase dreams.
They are difficult to chase,
As fireflies on a moonlit night
Just follow the tangled line,
See where it leads.
I admit my eyes
Have also wandered the heavens
Pondering the outcomes
Of a million variants
Of choices made.
Just as it is never too late
To chase dreams,
It is never too late to set sail.
We may need to mend the sails
Perhaps patch the bilge,
By tomorrow we could
Be letting the water lead us
Where we are supposed to be.

I'm free.
I should feel better after 21 days.
But it's all the same.
The walls aren't off-white.
There isn't double-pane glass everywhere.
There aren't nurses to ask about
"Suicidal Ideation".
But it's all the same.
I'm not free.
Not when my mind follows me
Wherever I go.

Regardless of the happy times,
I shouldn't neglect to mention the joy,
They always return.
The feelings of inadequacy.
*The ******* whispers

I stopped today,
On a bench.
Underneath a staunch oak,
Blanketed with honeysuckle
17 miles outside of
Memphis Tennessee.

Admiring the twisting
Of the thunderheads,
As a gentle rain dug into the dust.

I smiled,
Absorbing the gold and grey,
And spoke.

"Please, my friends.
I know you are there.
Let's not dally any longer.
We all know what you
Have come for."

Three emerged
From the shadows of the oak.
Two I knew,
One I did not.

"Mistress Death, my muse,
So nice to see you again."
The figure nodded,
A soft smile visible under
Her hood.

"Satan, my old friend,
How long it's been since I've
Called your domain my home."
He averted his gaze,
Seemingly uncomfortable.

I turned my eyes on the third.
A lithe woman,
With such grace as I've never seen.
Her hair obsidian black,
Cheekbones sharp,
Eyes the same rolling grey
As the sifting clouds above.

When she spoke,
Her voice was clear,
Compelling,
As if anything she said was
An ultimate truth.

"I have no name as you
Would understand it
Youngling. I have walked
This world longer than any other.
I have heard tell of you.
I am glad to meet you at last.
You are an aberration.
You know why I am here.
It is your time."

Two words I spoke.
"I'm ready."

I've never been partial to sound.
I do enjoy a sweeping melody
Though not near as much
As a carress.
An affectionate embrace.
To merge souls through skin.
Temptation is fleeting
Though I've been too weak
In the past.
Except when I was too strong.
Yet the times I was tempted most
Was when the temptress
Would not look my way.

When I am gone
Know that what I did,
I did for those I love.
Every life extinquished
I did to protect you.
You will not read this.
You will have no reason to
Until after I've passed.
Be it today
Or after eons passed.
I stood at ready.
My eyes were open.
I saw clearly.
I lived as I should have
Restless.
I will have died as I lived.
In blood and bile.
Though I saw the faces
Of those I'd toppled
In my dreams,
My only wish was
That the dreams ended
When I reach my final sleep.

Sometimes a fire must burn out,
No fuel left to feed it.
So it is with many things.
When we lack what we need to survive,
Be it sustenance,
Accomplishment,
Or purpose,
Sometimes we must end,
And cease to be.
Every song must end,
Every curtain fall,
And every candle flicker,
Then raise its smoke to the heavens.

When I'm called home,
And the halls of Valhalla
Ring with recollections
Of love, loss and redemption.

Remember Me.

When the children scream
For their parents,
The thieves confess to the ******,
And the blood of the lamb washes over,

Remember Me.

When the Gods strike the earth,
The trees smolder and cry,
And lightning batters your cities.

Remember Me.

When your buildings fall into the sea,
When your allies are raiding your lands
When the sand and the snow trade forms.

Remember Me.

For I warned you that this was coming.
And I'm not coming to save you anymore.

It's early morning,
The clock reads 7:47 AM.
The engine purrs.

It speaks lovingly
Through the clutch.
A 4.6L V8 soul,
Just wanting to be let free.

Clutch in,
Shift into 5th.
Give it gas,
Let off the clutch.

Tearing down a dirt road,
104 Miles Per Hour,
A can of Copenhagen
Rattling on the dash.

Because it's early morning,
The clock reads 7:48 AM.
The engine purrs.