I pulled the book off the shelf
ran my fingers down the spine
and then up again
feeling the magic bound within

I wept inside with tearful joy
my heart listening to the happy songs
from the pages waiting to be opened
read intently
gazed at endlessly
and finally turned

I held the book to my chest
hugged it tightly
as tightly as a mother
hugging a child
she thought lost to war
a husband hugging his wife
afraid if he let go
he would wake
and find his wife
had just been a dream
a child hugging everything
and anything

this book that is as much of my heart
as my hearts own flesh and blood
this book
the first book that taught me
life and love are so often the same thing
in all of their beauty and joy
all of their desperation and despair
love and life
pressed between
and printed on
the pages of this book

a good friend
a friend from long ago
an old friend
that will never grow old

the book opens
and my heart applauds

Magic and sweet vice
Sin and decadent wonders
Your flesh and my bones

I write about what I believe
and believe in what I write
and I often write fairy tale like poems
about love to girls and women
who do not exist
because love is an easy thing
to care for when it is make believe
and a much harder thing to tend to
when it is living inside a heart
that is inside a chest
that is covered in soft skin
and under a mouth with warm lips
and a gentle smile
that is kind enough in the morning light
and beautiful even under the darkest thoughts
and fears of loneliness
and if only I had known better
in my youth these fairy tales
would be biographies instead
but the sad truth is sad for a reason
and I still haven’t found a cure
for stupidity or shyness
and in the hour of solitude
I find comfort in the keys
of a dying typewriter
where the ink sputters and spits
onto the page coughing and choking
to hold back the tears
as I write another fairy tale
of the make believe
but still have trouble believing
in what I make

I weep for man
I laugh at mankind
and my heart breaks for humanity

We are so far removed from ourselves
separated by ego and arrogance
blinded by routine and normalcy
spinning cogs walking in circles
as the world turns into a wasteland

Our hearts become nothing more
than empty graveyards
hollow and empty sound in our pulse
white noise blocking the transmission
of our dreams

Puppets safe in their cages
the masses only move with the flow
educate them to repeat repetition
never teach them to think
line them up one by one
ducks on the pound
waiting to be hunted

Money

Money

Money

The only currency worth dying for
Life has no value on wall street
only the Dow and the Jones
and the Smiths and the Wessons
bullets and lead
over the teeth and the smiles of children
coins and cash
over the blood and bones of innocence
cold lifeless steel
over the warmth and sound of a heart beat

I weep for man
I laugh at mankind
and my heart breaks for humanity

The sun wept marigold tears
  and we were too busy
   in the toil of our own grief

     to notice

     to pause

     to ask her why

nor did we bother
  to pay attention
   to the splitting seam
    in the sky
or how all the colors
  bleed that day

but Death in all her gentleness

   paused

sat quietly with the sun
  gently wiped the tears
   from her cheek
    held her hand
and waited while the sun
  mourned what needed
    to be mourned

then Death pulled a thread
  from the fabric of her robe
   and stitched the tearing seam
    in the sky

and then with all
  the bleeding colors
    painted a long overdue sunset
     on the never ending horizon

Maybe its time to stop petitioning the sky for answers, maybe its time to stop asking god for miracles and stop blaming the devil for our own wicked deeds.  Maybe its time we pull the love freely flowing in the air around us into our lungs and share it with one another.  Breath kindness and compassion to those in need, to feed the hungery, to protect the children living without homes, to share all that we have no matter how little it may be.  Maybe its time to stop imagining a better world and start building a better world.  Maybe its time we value the blood coursing through the hearts of our daughters and sons more than the number of zeros on our paychecks.  Maybe its time to give our time and attention to the things that need our time and attention.  Maybe its time for us to craft miracles through hands holding the hammer and nails and not praying to the hands with nails through them.  Maybe its time to have faith in ourselves.  Maybe its time to stop placing the label of sin on our children before they even take their first breath.  Maybe its time to learn how to love ourselves without shame.  Maybe its time to see the sky as blue or cloudy or grey or black and not the color of our salvation.  Maybe its time we save ourselves.  Maybe its time to spread love instead of teaching hate.   Maybe its time to put the old dogs of war down and stop willingly sacrificing our children to the machine of greed and the gears of death.  Maybe its time to stop pretending peace keepers are the same thing as peace makers.  Maybe its time to realize that bombs and bullets and fear are not useful ways of achieving word harmony.  Maybe its time to stop praying for better and to start doing better.  Maybe we can start today because maybe tomorrow will be to late...

The poems were just falling out, I was walking into words much like stumbling through spider webs in the dark.  Some coming too fast to have time to find a sketch pad, or a new one already dancing in my head before the last one was written down.  Post it notes started to come in handy.  Waking up in the middle of the night with words waiting and glowing on my bedroom wall, hands stumpling in the dark for my phone and my eyes not yet focused but my fingers tapping away.  My admiration and wonder for you started to bloom into the sensation of falling... and then I started to fall.    

Messages weren't so easy... no where to hide.  My fingers would hover over the keyboard and my eyes transfixed on an empty message box for hours...sometimes  even days.  My heart wanted to shout and shout and shout, but my mind was terrified and shy and wanted to stay silent.  Reason and sense said say nothing at all... just walk away.  But my heart was caving into the madness of impossible possibilities and beautiful tragedies with happy endings.  I ended up stuck between the two and sent small talk, constantly afraid of saying too much and steering  clear of all the things I really wanted to say.  Hiding all my secrets in the plain sight of poetry and silencing my heart through the messages...

What was happening
How did I fall so fast
It was crazy
And mad
And beautiful
And it made me smile
And the simplest message
Made my heart howl
And race
And I felt
Excited and
Exhilarated
And
Terrified
And
Happy
And everything
No matter how
Repetitive or mundane
Or ordinary
Everything was
Suddenly beautiful
Every part of
Every day and
Every night
And every dream
Everythig beautiful
Everything about me
Started falling
For every part
Of you

And I could keep everything safe as long as the messages stayed simple, careful to never say too much.  Save all that for the middle of the night, stumbling in the dark, out of focus, over the top poetry.  Writing between the lines and hiding  behind metaphors of falling, careful not to let on that I'm madly and completely In love with you.  Because that... that just doesn't make sense.  Unless, you ask the mad truth beating in my heart.  There, in the crazy beauty of it all it does.  It makes perfect sense.  Because there I can hide behind...

Every word
Every syllable
Every letter...
And I fall a little more
Falling faster
Falling deeper
Every sound
Every image
Every message
And my heart escapes me
Beating wildly
Flying madly
Every morning
Every day
Every evening
Always dreaming
Always smiling
Always falling
For everything
Of you

Do not try to outwit your grief
do not try to hide your love
what is desire but to burn
what if the only true path to heaven
is to walk through the fire

what if the only real sin
is regret
regret for the things you never did
the things you never said

tell me would that change
what you do tonight
before you sleep
what you do tomorrow
when you first wake up

what if there is no light
at the end of the tunnel
what if there is no dark
at the bottom of the well
what if the closest
you can get to god
is how close
you can get to your heart
what if the only devil
is the fear
that lives in your doubts
what if god
is nothing more
than your reflection

tell me what would that change
what would you pray for
if the answer to your prayers
was the miracle waiting
in your own hands

what if your dreams
are no farther away
than your imagination
what if your imagination
is the key
and the door
and the path
to the home of your dreams

show me all of your secrets
and I will bury all of my lies
what good is a metaphor
that cannot hide the truth
in the plain sight
of the sleeping sun
and the first breath of the moon

when the weather calls for tears
water the fields
that sing the song
of your heart beating
and when the fire falls and spreads
hold my hand
and walk through the flames with me

Lets get drunk
And howl at the moon
Lets steal a smile
And **** an innocent kiss
Lets tell a golden fib
And ****** the moons sweet lullaby
Lets dance naked under stars
And taste the flower
Between your thighs
Let our souls descend
To devils fire
And flames of sin
Lets find pleasure of heavens pulse
While lost to acts of hell
Let our voices growl
And whisper heavy
With drips of love
Let us indulge
In merging heart to heart
While commiting deeds
Under sheets of carnal beast
While the ghost
Of the murdered moon
Raises from its ash
And drinks the overflow
Of our love and lust
Not able to distinguish
Between the two
It spreads a drunken smile
Across the night
As it watches
Our madness burning
In time and song
The moon lets out
Its midnight howl

I am tired...

I am sleep...

I am dream...

I am a miracle
I am a mouse
I am a room born from loneliness
I am a house made of wood
    
     empty of love...

I am a heartbeat without a home

I am a home lost on a road
  on a rod that goes nowhere

I am the nowhere at the end of the ocean
  that leads to nothing

I am nothing at the end

I am the breath of the sea
   stolen by the shores of death
I am death without meaning

  and I am tired...

and I sleep and I dream

of a sea that does not know death
an ocean that has no end
a road that is a home
a home with a beating heart
a love that is a house
a house with rooms
full of mice
mice that tell stories
of miracles that know
no loneliness

We can stand in front of a mirror and stare at our own faces, examining our teeth, our smile, our tears, and the endless reflection of our own souls gazing back at us from behind our eyes and question and ponder and weigh ourselves down with questions of self worth and over burden ourselves with self loathing and stare even deeper as we realize how small our bodies are compared to a tree or our houses or the buildings we work in and then we can  compare how small all those things are compared to the size of the earth and continue down this road as we look towards how massive our sun is to the earth but how even the sun is just a spec of dust in the vast cosmos and then wonder why are we here and what is it all worth and what does it all mean and for a moment maybe we're overwhelmed and nothing makes sense and it all seems meaningless.  I've been there, standing in front of that mirror, with tears running down my face and my self worth lying and rolling in the gutter with all my self loathing and I've stood there scared and depressed and everything else that is miserable.  And I've walked away from that mirror, either out of anger or fear or when I was all out of self pity sometimes I walked away out of hope.
Life at its very worst always has the potential to get even more horribly so, there is no  bottom when things are going from bad to worse... But it always has the potential to get better too.  We may seem small and insignificant when we compare our bodies to the vast cosmos that surronds us, but the love that lives within us is its own endless universe, quite possibly even bigger than all the space that surronds us.
Its not as easy to find and sometimes maybe we feel like this internal universe has kicked us out or won't let us in or for the truly unfortunate maybe they just haven't found the door, maybe they haven't gone mad yet and maybe they never will... but that's another heart breaking story for someone else to tell.
If you're one of the fortunate ones you've already found the door and walked through it,  if you were really lucky you fell through it or came crashing through it.   You know its a beautiful place, you know its a dangerous place, you know its easier getting here than staying here.  The life line of our bodies is finite and we never know how long or short it will be.  Love however has the power and possiblity and vulnerablity to be infinite.   We don't always (or perhaps ever) get to choose how or when or why we come tumbling through that doorway.  Sometimes we're idiots and we find ourselfs here and we either hide hoping to go unseen or even worse we try to get out,  we walk back out the door willingly.  And sometimes we get lost and the door can't be found and were stuck here...
Just like standing in front of the mirror, I've been through this door a few times, sometimes scared, sometimes hopeful, and when I've been really lucky I've been stuck.
I'm lost here now and I want to stay and I think at least some small piece of my heart must have been left behind and buried under some floor boards years and years ago because somehow its all familiar and my heart feels like its found its home

sometimes I spell my name wrong on purpose
hoping to accidentally discover who I really am
who I use to imagine I was suppose to be
or maybe just who I use to be
back when believing in love and magic
was as easy as breathing

back when breathing was easy

back before I needed
to keep a feather in my copy of Peter Pan
to book mark chapter 13
to remind me that love and magic
can only be as real as I believe them to be

because lately its been hard to believe in anything
I want to believe
there is more good than bad in the world
more light than darkness
more beauty in the truth
than just its ugly reality

more kindness than cruelty
more generosity than greed
more miracles in daily living
and not just the tragedy
of meaningless death
after meaningless death

but I have lost count
of the slogans piling up behind the hashtags
and I struggle to remember the names
of all the victims of all the senseless violence
spilling out from all the blind hatred
beating wildly in this world
that seems to be losing its way

and I wonder if I am even human
because if anything human
can be so blind to all the pain
and all the poverty
and all the hunger in this world

if anything human
can have nothing but apathy
to the needless suffering inflicted
by the social inequality
that plaques any minority
by the masses of *****
that make up the majority

then why
tell me why
would anyone with a heart
anyone who can still believe
in love and magic
want to be human

if being human doesn’t mean
to be filled with love and compassion
to have the kindness and generosity of our hearts
flow freely to and out of our hands
to any and everyone that needs help

to anyone who needs shelter
from the cold and unforgiving gaze
of hate filled eyes
to anyone that needs something more
than just food to **** the doubts and ache
stirring in their bellies
to anyone who just needs a moment
a brief moment
to know they are not alone
that their fight to survive
isn’t a battle they have to fight alone

if being human isn’t meant
to help one another
then what is it?
are we all just out here misspelling our names
hoping to become anything
but what we really are

I start to write into a
puddle of metaphors
meant to be a love poem
and as I write down
the word love
for the thousandth
of the thousandth time

I accidentally misspell it...

...with the letters
of your name...

and I know visually
that it looks wrong on paper
but when I hear it in my head
it sounds right
and now I can’t quite remember
any other way to spell it

and thats not really the worst of it
because I’m really just rewriting
the same poem over and over again
somehow hoping that rearranging
the letters and the words
will somehow align the stars in heaven
causing my heartbeat to sync with yours
and somehow you will just know how I feel
and I won’t have to stutter
and stammer and choke on the words

because every time
you’re are sitting across from me
or standing anywhere near me
or being anywhere out there
in the world breathing
while just being you
causes my mouth and my hands
and my body
and the whole world around me
to tremble
as I begin
to feel so dangerously close
to not feeling so alone

and alone is a thing
I have grown to be
incredibly comfortably with
alone is a safe heaven
of quite and peaceful solitude
where pain is a thing
easily stitched away
inside secret pockets
of regret
that nobody knows about

alone is something that has
become the best friend
my heart has ever known
a secret companion
no one can steal away from me
the person that knows everything
about me that is too embarrassing
or strange
or heartbreaking to talk about

it knows things that
I don’t even know about myself

I am sure that I am
about to be swallowed
by some armageddon level event
and be forgotten by history
because this isn’t the kind of story
that i get to be a part of
except for the character
that no one notices
so there is no need to remember
who I was
or how when I thought
I misspelled the word love
with the letters of your name
was the first
and only  time
I ever actually got it right

Countless tombstones lined up
  like shark teeth
Waiting for the next generation
  to march into their graves
Helmets waiting
  for heads waiting
    for their bullet holes
Dying in the same clothes
  as their father
    and their father
      before them
Because everyone
  loves a corpse
      in uniform
Left,
  Left,
   Left right left
The endless
   mobius strip
        of war

how childishly we make
  mockery of time
how foolishly we fear
   its passing
the common cliché
  of turning twenty nine
    over and over
until we find ourselves
  making the same joke
   at thirty nine
     and forty nine
       and...
as if ever new decade
  every new day
     isn’t a privilege
        a blessing
something we are
  not guaranteed
    not owed
     not all given
there is nothing to fear
in accepting our mortality
in learning that death
will greet us warmly
in knowing that it is
  the same with
    our last breath
      as it is with
        our first breath
each one a gift
   that can only be given
     by the passing of time
why should we
  fear the unknown
    the unknowable
to such a degree
that we allow it
   to take away
     to distract us
from the gift of this moment
  the every present
    passing of time
it will all pass and be gone
   in less than
    the blink of an eye
an eternity come and gone
  in the breeze
no matter how long
or short our lives will be
   in the end
     it will always be
      too short
        end
          too soon
let us enjoy each breath
that time allows us
gives us
as children do
gratefully unaware
of how childishly
we will grow

The memory  last
No matter how long or short
The moment does not

We once burned witches...

No.

We burned people who were accused
of being witches or practicing witchcraft...

never proven but still burned....

burned alive...

wether or not they were witches
will remain unknown
and why should it
have mattered if they were,
what excuse was that to have
behaved so maliciously hateful and cruel

I will tell you this though
if I had been a witch
or knew any kind of witchcraft
the first thing i would have done

is work out a fire proof charm
perfected an unburnable spell
an I can walk through the fire
and feel a hell of a lot better
after doing so spell
a my blood and bones
burn hotter than the sun spell
a you better get that
little matchstick outta my face spell
before I show you how to burn
THE REAL MONSTERS here spell

the monsters with the lust
to watch flesh turn
to cinder and ash monsters
the monsters who feared
the unordinary who showed
any kind of extraordinary monsters
the monsters of the masses
with crosses that burned
like torches monsters
the monsters who screamed ******
in the name of....

monsters

the monsters who could not see
their own reflection
for the hideous creatures
they were monsters

the same monsters that still live today
on this side of the looking glasses
under our thin skinned social structure

still burning witches

subtly now

with words of disdain
full of pernicious intentions
towards the lost and the lonely

with the cold staring eyes of indifference
and hearts without an once of compassion
towards the homeless and hungry

with the revulsion and abhorrence
towards those who love
the ones they love

the witches being any unordinary
that show any kind of extraordinary
still being feared for their difference
still being hated
reduced to nothing but
pill size suicides
red ribboned wrists
rope neck ties
for feeling too much
pushing too far
flying too high
dancing in cinder to ash
being burned
burned for being alive

I let my feet dangle over the edge of the bed
Hoping the monsters will drag me underneath
My flesh is rotting
And my heart smells of decay
My bones could use some breaking
I'm over due for a good long cry
And a little blood letting
Somedays the ache just doesnt hurt enough
The cold comfortable numb has its teeth
Sunk too deep into my soul
And I can scream
But no sound escapes my mouth
I'm trapped on the sunny side of the sun
And the fires only cool me as I wander pointlessly about
I'm just lost in a dream a sleep away
From a bad shave
The kind of shave you can only get in Seville
My throat is thirsty for a kiss and a bite
From your warm lips
Or cold steel
Death is suppose to be lovely
Around this time of eternity
And I would die
For just a moment
Of that promise
Of forevers bliss
Slithering slyly on your tounge
My ears desperate to feel it say that one word
That four letter word
Full of grace and pain and beauty and truth
And if I cant have that
Then the end of the world
Can't get here soon enough
I just hope those monsters are hungry
And nasty
And mean
I need to bleed a little
Before my heart burst
It just feels too good to be true
You're too **** beautiful
And I'm not worth
A dime of your lipsticks
Much less your love
And my bare neck
Is overdue for a shave
Its just my body needs the dying
My heart and soul
Won't go anywhere
There yours
To hold in your hands
Or hide on your shelf
They got that forever
Kind of love
And its dancing flames
Spell out your name
Where are those
Monsters
Anyway...

twelve years ago you fell
from your mothers belly
like a soft prayer of small miracles
all of heaven contained within
the wonder sparkling in your eyes
everything that could be
more than I expected
happiness more abundant than infinite
beautiful in every sense
that love can be defined
I have never appreciated
the air in my lungs
or the blood in my veins
or the pulse and rhythm of my heart
more than the first time I held you
or the last time I heard you laugh

twelve years pasted so quickly
and I am torn equally
between wishing I could stop time
and the excitement of watching you grow
the impatience for seeing who you will become
you are both hope and the future

twelve years of being the luckiest dad
the happiest father
it often feels like you have been teaching me
more than I will ever be able to teach you
you have made it so easy
life so joyous

your heart is a treasure trove of kindness
your soul a gentle campaign of patience
your intellect sharp
with both wisdom and humor
what a gift it has been
to love you
to be loved by you

twelve years of everything
that could be more than I expected

how do we become so alone

so distant

that we only appreciate love
as a tragedy in a play
a death in a poem
the ghost of a lover

who stole

then betrayed our heart

and even through the pain
of their crimes against us
we still miss their lips
and their breath
and their lies of love

what is so warm
about the comfort of solitude
that we forget
how to feel lonely

in our bones
in our blood
in our hearts

that we no longer lust
for companions
for friends
for any kind of desperation

were has the misery gone
were did we misplace
the fire and the rage
the want of need
the need to be needed

how far can we go
how much distance will it take
until we remember
that love is more

than tragedy and death
more than a tool
of the playwright
and metaphor for the poet

that it is not only the memory
of ghosts who no longer
need our needing

that we need not be so alone

so distance from love
that we forgot to feel lonely

in our bones
in our blood
in our hearts

and if nothing else
we can always be
alone together
so we never forget
to appreciate
the beauty of love

He woke up with his dreams still wet in his eyes.  His heart greeted him, already awake from being up painting all night long.  He got out of bed and started his usual routine, getting dressed and eating the same dull food he ate day after day.  Today though, it tasted as if it were a meal fit for a king.  He finished his breakfast, gathered his things: keys, wallet, glasses and walked outside.  The sky was moonless and the sun was still hours away.  It was dark and the air was crisp and cold against his skin, on any other day he would have grabbed a jaket,  today though, he didn't mind or even seem to notice.  As he got into his car he was smiling a wide smile.  The angel and devil that would usually be on his shoulders where replaced by the Mad Hatter and Cheshire Cat.  They whispered tales, poems, and songs of her deep beauty  and pure heart into his ears.  His heart jumped and raced with excitement as it listened. They spun stories of her every strand of hair streaked with hues and shades of red mixed with the purest colors of love.  They sang sonnets of the deep magic and wonder and oceans of her eyes.  They recited verses of her lips, as fragile and delicate as the pedals of orchids.  Lips he had never touched or kissed, lips that still somehow burned and satisfied his soul more than any other lovers touch had ever before.  He drove  down the the long road towards work, another day of the same pointless repetitive movement.  Working side by side with people who had died inside along while ago.  Mindless, mind numbing work... but he didn't care.  Not today, no today was different.  He listened as the Cat and the Hatter kept spinning yarn after yarn,  her heart and soul glowing through every word they spoke.  He drove through the darkness, his smile growing ever wider and his heart filling with warmth.

The morning light only became beautiful
as it reflected off the soft skin of your face
the smile dancing playfully on your lips
the dreams still awake in your eyes
and what light could be more beautiful
than the radiance of the song of your heart

to witness such splendor
to be a spectator of such graceful miracle
if this is not heaven
the room you adorn with dreams
from the flowers of eternity
then there is no heaven
there is only you
you and love

Trapped and chained and jailed in the grip of misery and the hungry mouth of despair
Its serpentine tounge wrapped tightly around your neck
A perfectly fitted noose
Deep rooted crooked fangs and hooks and teeth
To crush your bones
  Suspend your soul
   And poison your heart
Hanging helplessly as your
  Body and dreams and hopes
    Are dissolved into black sludge
Your arms stolen of everything
  You ever loved and held dear
And then without mercy
  Your very arms ripped out
Your face wiped clean
  No eyes to see with
   No mouth to SCREAM
Treasured memories erased
  And turned into daggers of torment
An endless cavern of echoes
  Of doubts and fears
     And blames
        And lies
All LIES
But the echos scream and
   Repeat and scream
     And repeat and
       Repeat and
         Repeat
           And
             Repeat
And you can't help but belive the lies
  Being carved into your skin
   Your heart your soul
It's all your fault
  it's all your fault
      IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT
YOU'RE HERE... BECAUSE
  IT'S YOUR OWN FAULT
Lies though... all lies
Misery lies and it lies
  In your heart
   And it lies in your soul
    And it lies in your everything
Misery wants your company
  Misery wants your EVERYTHING
Misery wants to paint its ugly
Over your beauty and **** your light and vibrance
Misery singing you lies of sweet oblivion and solitude
"stay here stay here... I'll take your pain away... just give me your all and I'll give you my numb... no one will love you so let me make it all numb..."
Another lie of misery...
   Carved deeper into your heart
Carving and slicing and burning lie after lie
Taking you apart and breaking you down
Casting and reshaping you the stolen pieces of you into bricks
Forcing your hands to build up a wall
Misery doing everything to make you feel at home
Venomous lies slipping from its rotted forked tounge
"This is where you belong... I'll love you... just let me make you numb..."
Misery lies while singing false lullabies
  Trying to steal you away
Trying to make the world darker
  By killing your light
Trying to hide your beauty in the
  Mouth of despair
Misery wants the world to sink into a
   Murkier shade of grey
It knows our world is falling apart
  And that by claiming you it can
    Quicken our descent
Its all just lies... the chains that bind you...
  the lies that cut and carve you down...
    miseries cold sinking in... the closer
       you get to numb the easier its
         lies are to belive... slipping
            away... the numb and
               oblivion. .. just
                 inches away...
                   comfortably
                    dark lies
                     LIES
                          ...
                    DON'­T
              DON'T FADE
            DON'T BELIEVE
           DON'T GO AWAY
       If... if you have done anything
     Anything wrong, it's this and only
   This, you're too beautiful for this world, this broken crumbling world, you looked too deeply, you felt too much...
Loved too much..  and then life hurt, breathing hurt... and you then you looked deeper, felt deeper, loved more... against the hurt and the pain... the sky was falling and you tried to hold it back up... too kind, too sweet... if anything this world doesn't deserve you. .. but oh... it needs you...
I've seen your light, been touched by the grace and beauty of your heart...
There's no easy escape from miseries grip
   And the mouth of despair
No quick fix
  No band-aid brand cure
A hard battle fought
  That not everyone can win
No guarantees I can give...
But I will climb into the mouth
  With you
   You don't have to do it alone
     Win or lose
       I'm right here with you
I'll die here by your side
  Just for a moment
   One moment to love your soul
     Your heart
       Your everything

Why are you singing covers Bob
You aren't thinking of knocking
Knocking on that door
Your songs will out last us all
So why not you
Why not you too
This years been rough enough
And the cannon ***** are
Still flying
So stay a little longer
And don't go knocking on that door
...

I heard a gunshot in the middle of dreaming
I awoke to find Eros at the foot of my bed laughing
I lay there bleeding and dying and with my last bit of strength I wrote your name on my wall
And my last dying wish as I feel to the floor
Was to love you again in the next life
Over and over again

**** some of this time with me
All the little simple things
The moments of the day
Quickly fade away
Lets ****** simplicity
For blissful memories
Bask in the warmth of the sun
Enjoy the feel of the rain
Let the cold of winters breath
Leave its sting deep inside our chests
There is no bad weather
Under the lips of your smile
Palm to palm
Fingers entwine
Holding love naked
And bare
True little moments
Killing some time with me
As I Fall and I am
In love with you

****** your gods and let them die and fade
paint the sky red with their blood
and their books
and their fables
break down the walls and the gates
that separate heaven and hell
and plant seeds of hope
in the destruction
where there ideas once bloomed
and rebuild the world
in the image of love
let love be the only language you speak
let kindness be the action of your breath
let generosity be the blood of your heart
help those in need
as a gift and not a burden
and in the face of truth
what good are gods
that don’t believe love is all we need
to die
to dream
to live
to hold heaven in our hands
empty of the need of prayer
or redemption
for if all we do is love
what could be found as sin
as we ****** our gods
and give ourselves to love
and only love

Let my breath be your brush
To spread your color
And bring you pleasure
To part your clouds and thighs
Release the floods of dew and doubt
My tounge pushing demons out
By brush strokes traced along
Both black and blue and you
Till mixed the darkest shades of red
Of blood of soul and skin
Be not my prize of lust
It is the beating of my heart
That makes me dream of sin
I can love and leave no trace
I would spill no life or seed
If you did not whisper love back to me
My soul is yours
Chained to this fate
To ease your every pain
No pleasure need be mine
From parting cloud and thigh
I will savor ever crooked tooth
And leathery wing
And never cease to eat
Any demon to dare crawl
And hide within your sheets
My servitude is yours
My feet be puppet
And hands be marionette
To forever be your fool
My breath your brush
To spread your color
And paint your pleasure