Is it true
what you said,
in the grip of the plague?
That you would love me and my broken musicbox.
I said the worst thing I could, to save you from pain...
Oh the pain it must have
caused,

Accusations,
allegations of my limitations,
I know something in you
still feels my wet tears on your hand.
Twice from the chasm edge you recalled me.
Now I wonder,
if there is a miracle left in the bag of light.

Didn't I bring a sparkle to your laugh
in the days before I tasted poisoned honey.
I built collages for what I thought was you.
I see the weariness in your words,
shake me from this world.

Once,
you made me smile through agony,
when I fell from the greatest height.
Now,
the very thought of your smile,
drives a thousand pins into my head.
Tomorrow,
another piece of me will be missing,
never to be recovered, permanant loss.

There is am imaginary wall between love and hate,
The escalation of emotion a constant in the world.
Knocking politely at your silver gilded gate,
I wait in patient reverence, until your flower unfurls.

In reality it is only our belief that makes us see  
The two as different independent entities.
Both are primal predators prowling cerebral seas,
Each is the truth of the wildly twirling galaxies.

What I have done right will always cure my wrongs,
Take this token: flaming oil of my soul, to bring you light.
With you life never feels like a futile fight,
I will give you the melody, and the harmony of my songs.

I have been burned to white ash and black cinders, but I am still whole.
We parted, in the spring and summer. Autumn leaves fall, out of control.

You,
Lone being
Of enduring kindness,
Your tiny hand touching me tenderly,
Even in the bleakest times.
Dragging me out of the darkness
Even as I continually crawled toward it.
The tortures inflicted,
both blindly and unintentionally
And with premeditation and surety
Should surely not have befallen one so gorgeous of spirit.
It seems now you have lost your faith in me,
As I have failed to fulfill a slew of promises.
But, you do not understand where I stand,
How my hands are shackled
Fettered to the spot,
When we dwelled together
Hell rained down until our hearts were parted.
I do not wish for the intensity of my vile
To drizzle and stain, and burn and brand you.
You are far too precious to me to allow the chance of that.
But, seeing you burn my page from your diary,
Finally and emphatically denouncing me,
I am torn down like a *****, ******.
I love you with devout intensity,
And watching you suffer at our separation
It equalled the potential pain of my tint tainting you.
So what am I to do now, kind one?
My smile only masks the agony so long.
Sweet one, whose kiss lasted longest,
Which sadly meant, there were fewer of them.
The clever saboteur will always sabotage us.
The angry cannoneer will always barrage us.
I don't want you to endure such things.
But NEVER stop believing I Love you!
Whatever you see occur,
Never forget this.

We are on this limb together.
Hold onto me and I will never let you fall,
we can sit and sing together,
if love surging between us is not enough
then we were doomed from the start.
It can happen in the flicker of a hummingbird's wing.
We keep complaining about the stage,
but it is the players that run the show.
We will never quit wondering what might have been,
but the sun shines just as bright now, as it did in the past,
only now it can shine twice as bright, in our future
together.


-I want you to sing, and listen, as the secrets of sustained satisfaction, surge from our mouths
into each others ears.
I want to swallow your brains.
I want to laugh and level a building.
I want to pull you towards me,
I do not want to stop, do not want me to stop, I do not want you to stop.

What returns we will recieve,
if we invest our intellect in concert.

I shall always remember why I stayed.
Crawled through every one of these ditches
just to climb back up and find you there,
together we weaved safety from the meteor shower!

Why would any one want to stop?
Stay here.
I will tell you what I know, you know you want to know, tell me what you know.

No one shall prevent you from loving me.
Let us beat reality into submission, until it turns into our dreams,
Why turn back the clocks, when all of the elements of our hapiness exist still.
Let'***** play, and stop skipping back and forth,
we are the players, it is our stage!

Digging through your tangles
I see how shallow my roots are.
Who crafted this button,
As if for me...
Random,
I question this...
Why are their so few of us,
And what constitutes acceptance into this cult?
How did I get in, was it just that I didn't leave?
Random,
Like the swell of fresh faces each evening,
However much vitriol or saccharine needed to be purged,
It takes a poet to write well.
It takes a mad man to wish to write each day.
It takes a mad poet to write well each day,
I guess you could say
There is a no sane poets clause.
Random,
Thoughts sparked thoughts,
Yet, not random,
All interconnected.
I couldn't find the bottom of this place if I tried...
My roots are far too shallow.

You travel between disparate realms
desperate knights, with splintered shield
and cracked helm, black rose on their white backs.

Such void, from which universes are created,
where normality is clay, and plasticity.
Granting merit to my thefts
Your ink spills in torrents,
rapidly alternating colors.
But my black and white photos
they are beautiful too!

I never have known boredom
as a man in my own home,
such is my inability to understand
how you flit and zip,
I only have two hands and two lips,
to try and transform a gift,
from the norm, while a storm sleeps
beneath every syllable.

Countless bodies, devoid of mind
until swooping in they come,
it is not enough that I possess true feelings.

It must be the purity within my tainted stanzas
that counteracts the inadequacy of the volume.
Or some subliminal, or sublingual amplifying agent
or reality distortion involved,
which brings shapeshifting angels
gliding by, leaving tokens of bone carvings,
and charcoal drawings of what I choose to hide,
but simply cannot.

The mountains are silent
serene
solid in their poise.
Birds laugh in the branches
over those living each day
spirits borrowed
at the prelude to all creation.

Take heart,
love will hold us together
uprooting discontent from the soil of our dreams,
a diligent gardener
devoted to maintaining all
which is beautiful,
all that is ugly
yet magnificent.

And

We with tangled souls
are deemed the unlucky ones,
who've arrived at the revelation
of our own insignifcance
in the greater scheme.
This unknown plan
(This is but the beggining)
(a cosmic comedy).

In the afterbirth of your re-emergence
You are cleansed and pure
but this is not the cause
of this unending cycle.
Hope exists inside you
a lighthouse of levity
no force can deconstruct.
It is part of your humanity,
much in the same way
you are a part of me
and
I
You.