I must've had angels
betting the odds,
rolling the dice,
because I was born
to a world
that's colder than ice,
blessed with a heart
that refuses to fight.
I was given a light
to shine bright
through the night,
to guide those still lost,
wandering
far out of sight.

She used her hands to map me til she saw the screen behold her

dreams. In those perfect moments, I looked, gazed,

fervently glared into the distance from a point that was too far for

her to see. She mapped me til I remembered the first signs of a

storm, how the winds felt. Then, a swift retreat. The winds died,

my skin dried, my ***** raised for rain.

LOVE is what I am made of
And I am made up of YOU

It is the river
That floods me
That flows along
That sweeps my shores
The river is YOU
And I am YOU
The river of LOVE

It is the tiger
That preyed & hunted me
It is the tiger
That ate me alive
The tiger is YOU
And I am YOU
The tiger of LOVE

It is the fire
That consumes me
That ignites passion within
That annihilates me
The fire is YOU
And I am YOU
The fire of LOVE

LOVE is what I am made of
And I am made up of YOU

I'm confused by the caustic whispers
What I do, I do for love, they say
I'm profane.

Of course I'm atheistic,
I'm under the dome
of this upset city
with my badge and gun,
what do they expect,
my broken home?
I of all the answers,
answers, I have none.

I know their caustic whispers well
because I am one of
the inimical voices
spraying my name.

My name is in lights,
while I wanted this, I never asked
I never asked, but
now my brain is awake and I'm profane.

Dulled bright blue as last of light
but time is night.
Where are the stars?
The Summer has eaten the refuse
electricity left.
What is want?
Blame people for the worst.
What is left?

What's left:

(thick skinned upright shells like cars so well developed for speed that the time they took to make is now time we save with quick cuts with content cut from cloth for your hands romantic now only in dream)

Day by day, harder
for me to take it.
There's little or no
chance I'll make it.
To the natural end
of this brittle life
Stay my hand or I'll
find a way to break
what's left of me.
Left idle my hands
wring pain through
my brain, dry as
bone and barely
working.