I looked back to see when it started,
The loss of my sanity. 
When the demons swarmed in,
And walls went up.
When my tears dried,
And I silently gave up.
When my heart lost a piece, 
And I lost myself. 
When my will became weak,
My mind collapsed in on itself.
It was when I lost you
And everyday since,
I become more lost
With no way to be fixed.

The smell of fresh cut grass that you have mowed
A lollipop with flavor painful, ****
The signal traffic has to let you go
A thumb on men who give plants great kick-starts

The middle of a rainbow, warm and cold
A long square with fuzz on a table for pool
The mark on the root of all evil that's sold
A moss-covered abandoned private school

The things you see once trekking through the woods
A pond lies ankle-high within this place
The bits of algae below where you stood
A frog that jumps in front of your shocked face

There still are many things we've not yet seen
Pertaining to the wonderful color green

Your eyes fixed on the screen
and mine on you.
You're watching a story
And I am, too.


F.Z.N

There's a room full of vases
And each one is different.
Some have cracks,
Others, fractures;
Some have crumbled,
Others, shattered;
Some have different colours
In a patchwork pattern.
Some look whole and well
But only from a distance;
Others' cracks are so fine
Only the vase can tell it's broken.
But each vase is beautiful.
Each vase can be useful,
Be patched up and hold something.
This room full of vases
Appears sad to some,
But it is also
Brimming with life.

she looked at his soft eyes. he held so much sadness in them. she only knew bits and pieces. he always would avoid the topic, changing the subject to her. "i want to hear your story. the real, honest to god truth." with shaking hands and tear filled eyes he told her his story. she held his hands, and wiped his tears. no one is whole, but that doesn't mean we can't help people fix themselves.

It was cold. And  quick.
Not the moment my heart was torn, but
The second it was put back together, so quickly.
So happily.
So lovingly.

I see an ugly side of me that no one else can see,
And I wonder what would they do if they see this part of me,
This ugly, hideous, part of me,
Longing to be fixed, controlled, repaired.

Each time I try to change for the better,
Inevitably, I keep on succumbing myself to it, ****** in it,
Tormenting myself, and regretting what I've done, eventually,
Without fail, again and again,
Repeating the act.

Who am I lying to?
Not the world, but myself,
And who do I put the blame onto?
Not the world, but myself,
It's binding me tightly,
I can't get free,
Will never ever be.

You're perfection

In a way that
A toaster
Will always and without fail
Toast your bread.

In that way
You have one job,
To simply be mine
And you did it perfectly.

But you see
Sometimes toasters break
What they did so perfectly
They can not do at all

But you see
Even though you are broken
Even though you aren't mine
You still seem to be

Absolutely perfect

Many legends there be back in days of old;
Legends of bold knights upon their noble steeds.
This be a tale starring a knight and his steed
As one and the same.

'Twas in the Renaissance city of Poitiers
The prodigy of a holy knight was born;
Sir Nathanëal of the Salomon bloodline,
Lineage of victors.

He bore the heart and voice of an archangel
And the loyalty of a priest to his God.
No other horse he rode but his first and last;
Dear "Divinitus."

Alas, his loyalty had cost him dearly
In the midst of the Battle of Moncontour.
Thus came the end of Nathanëal Salomon.
Or so it had seemed.

By the hands of benevolent sorcery,
Nathanëal and Divinitus lived again,
This time sharing a peculiar physique
Of both man and horse.

Thus, blessed with fur of white and a mane of gold,
Well-equipped with lightweight armour and claymore,
He walked the outskirts of France slaying evil
As both knight and steed.