another door closed
another community mourns
a macabre picture on a frame
for a tear stained love to find
once crafted by his own hand
not twelve months since
now a final resting place
marked by a note in steady pen
and why should it take
an angel of the epihany
to deliver a man in a plastic bag
to teach us of cbt
of an emotional intelligence
to be mindful of ourselves
while church, state, school fails
this country's young men
for generations and on
the silence does creep
so many futures in the past
too many paths closing so fast
there are so many questions
that sustain this male disease
silence never speaks in answers
or hears society's griefful pleas
today in another village
tommorow yet another town
a young man fits an attic joist
with silent eyes so cold
for jesus he was a carpenter
or so at least we're told

Spider webs
These weren't the walls
Before the fly
Sticking to my wings
Playing those strings
Of hungry
Sinking into fangs
I tried not to shriek
As you kept wrapping me
With your arms
Not in your arms
Battling your army
Caught me by wing
Sticking to your web
Spinning me
**** my ******* blood
Take everything
I knew I was your meal
To eat
You spun your web
And caught my wing
Before the fly
Charlotte loved the pig