Turn up the silence and block out the sun,
Alone in my room, a bottle and a gun.
It goes click twice, I'll see another day,
Tears start to fall, can't carry on this way.

"The way I **** will leave you speechless,
stretched out in my sheets,
legs cringing,
body craving for more..."
She licked her lips and replied,
"Show me."

He exchanges women for the pain

That remains

Lodged in his brain

From trying to maintain

An image of a person that he never was

So because

This image eludes him

He chooses to confuse them

With promises of more than he intends to provide

Doesn't let them know straight up and they don't seem to recognize

That their sole purpose in his life is to cause the pain to subside

And he hides

His cries for freedom between their meaty thighs

And tries

To lick, and pump, kiss and bump, touch and ****** so much

That he gains their trust

While they lose their souls

Because he can't free his own

Their screams  and moans

Are the only home in which he can feel great

So he makes

as many of them

Reach that place

Where all they can speak is his name

Because maybe if he hears it enough he will figure out who he is.....

She looks in the mirror
At the age on her face
"I wonder what he thinks
of me this way?"

She considers her weight
and the pores on her skin
She thinks out loud
"I don't deserve him."

She picks apart
the woman he loves
Separating her worth
from all that she does
              
He looks in her eyes
and caresses her face
He sees it glowing with love
and full of grace

 The lines on her face
  he views with pride
  Recounting the victories
  each time they've been tried

The weight that she carries
 is that of a mom
 Nothing's too heavy
 She just marches on

These bodies will perish
 and mirrors offer no truth
True love abides
 beyond the corridors of youth

  No, she doesn't deserve me
  Perhaps God can see
  Conceivably, one day
  I'll be as worthy as she

I think somewhere down the line in our parents' efforts to give us everything they never had, they forgot to give us what they Did have~

Grandpa had grit
He knew how to fight
Not for sport
but for that which was right

Up at dawn
His trade was life
Doing what he must
Dusting off strife

He'd say "It's just a reminder
that we're all still alive"
He'd just square back his shoulders
and cut Hell down to size

All but gone are the days
of men standing strong
Everything's grey
there's no right or wrong

We sit back and wonder
where our glory days went
I saw them galloping towards purgatory
saddled with truth, upon common sense

Trying to will a new life
is as absurd as reasoning with death,
weighing the heart of beauty
or throwing stones at the moon.
No one is allowed to start over.
Everything is exactly what it is
and nothing is like anything else.
The effort to begin anew
is as hopeless as trying
to erase the stars.
Only keep moving. Wake up,
put your feet on the floor,
take a step, take another.
There is your new life.
Just whatever happens today.
   ~mce

Last night he was eighteen
when he fell asleep.

The darkness filled with
insubstantial events,
visions of women and war,
marriage, jobs, divorce,
disasters and recovery.

When he woke up he was 63.

Life is but a dream.

Im sorry.
This isnt fair to you, you know
Your skin still sings to me
  With memories
   Of her voice

Im beginning to learn
Even love-struck stars
  Grow pallid
In the wake of a rippling,
 Regal moon
And now im left here
Howling at grey skies

Where do they all go
the unspoken words
Do they melt, into nothingness
burning in the backs of our throats
Or delve into the blue deepness of our thoughts
a sunken treasure
I think they hitch rides
with the hopeless
and the heartbroken
Sitting heavy on shoulders

And I'm walking with the weight of the world
and I'm walking with the weight of the world

Sleep now
or wake to find the truth
That there is no man beside you
Just a boy still shedding youth
Sleep now
and forever lay in peace
I'll stand draped beneath this emptiness
You stay between my sheets

Making love,
a sweaty pit stop
between the sheets.
Politicians,
librarians,
directors,
janitors,
authors,
qu­eens,
kings,
moms,
you,
me,
All guilty of this bittersweet act of sticky significance.
All willing to tangle our limbs every night.

Life is too valuable
to be ****** for money.
Poverty, unless crushing,
forced or dangerous,
at least has integrity.
So life's too short
to be a ***** anymore.
I paid those dues.
I am a human; I will
only do it for love.
  ~mce