Poetry is the elixir I drain into the cracks of my broken self
to ensure security in a world where cold indifference is less expensive then a nod of acknowledgement.

A thousand sun's wavered in the wind
hanging on the tips of a tree's arm.

The moon wants solitude tonight.

It tugs the thick vapor layered veil over it's face.
But its tears seep, dampening the hills, trees, and earth.

Collectively, the tears coat the ruins of an ancient home.
Bent from it's foundation it's straining as a contortionist
Battered by neglection, it's body breaths with fluttering doors
but its soul is dead.

"Those kids are a bad influence on you,
They'll only drag you down."
That may be true,
But I don't have much of an option in this town.

"You're getting a bad rep: people are saying you're a *****,
You stay with those kids you're gonna burn in hell."
What makes you so sure?
Do you have my life put together better than I do in a perfect little nut shell?

Why must you be so quick to judge,
My friends, and me guilty by association,
When we are only but a nudge,
Away from self annihilation.

The facts are the facts,
And the truth is the truth,
But the fact is I can give then something they lack,
Love and hope without the ruth...
Less...ness...

**** it. Yall will never understand.
Consider me guilty by association.

My mind is like abstract art tinted in many colors of red,
like my heart blew apart, splintering, puncturing now I am dead,
like horrid lamentation smeared with tears of the barely alive,
like a hungry nation spoon fed to think they can no longer strive,
like a child who attempts jumping the hurdles but ends up hurt,
like a man who repents only to realize he never got burnt.

If meeting your needs was what it took to ensure their safety I would do it. No task, no demand would be too difficult to accomplish. All I ask in return, pass them the salt when they ask for it.