I believe
That writers are
So brave
Because each time
They start writing
Blotting ink onto
Their paper
Frustratingly typing on
Their laptop
They rip their heart out
Of their chest
And show the world
What it's made of.

we see the smoke
and hear the drums -

it gets old - the news
of war - no more glory

-  the dead are dying
old and young

- we see the smoke
and hear the drums -

living in our rooms
above the fray -

we turn away
like yesterday -

we see the smoke
and hear the drums -

another day.

r ~ 10/17/14

His blue eyes are like glacial-lakes, wrapping around his heart till he's chilled to the bone from the cold.
A deadly place where treading is no longer permitted.
His eyes are transparent and distant as the impersonal clouds passing overhead.

Even as I stands before him, reflecting off him.
I am still merely a reflection.

He knows my face, I reason silently.
From the hills of my cheeks, down towards the valley separating my lips.

He should recognize it all.

Instead a blank expression greets me.    
A look of cold, solid insouciance.
I'm immediately angry with myself for wanting to justify his indifference's.

A reflex I've never been able to expel.
The vestigial limb on a skeleton.
A party favor from another time forgotten for the newly discovered toy.

I twist in the fridged winds wrapping around him.
My force giving under the great pressure magnified by his powers.

I never wanted to dance upon his breeze.
This realization makes me burn hotter.
My anger brighter than the northern star.

I welcome it, my amounting rage.
I embraces it with a raging smile.

His glaciers may be cold, immovable at times.
A pretentious notion I might freeze.

For I am the sun swirling in nova's ring and cannot be affected by his black iced personality.

Silence is not keeping quiet
because you have nothing
to say...

Silence is having a lot
to say but no desire
to speak...

Arrange my mind's galaxies and planets.

Sedate angry asteroids and burning comets.

Align for me my heart's constellations.

Clear the clouded nebulae in my intentions.

Turn the moon gently to look upon me,

So I may find the sea of tranquillity...


                              Tonight.

I'm bending at an impossible angle.
Over backwards,
to appease such erroneous behavior.

An implausible feat,
to gain a few meager feet.  

Eye contact
As our bodies touch.

Once again,
I've become the malleable traitor.
Bending over backwards,
placating your itchy trigger finger.  

That's why I'll take you back.
Oh no, that's the price I must pay.
With nothing else to give.
I'll spread my confession.

I could almost taste the anger,
lingering on my tongue.
A paper thin relationship,
ripped with a flick of the wrist.

I should leave you with nothing,
instead I'm giving you my heart on a silver plate.

Oh no, that's why I'll take you back.
Oh no, that's the price I must pay.
Oh no, it will be alright...
if I give you nothing to shake off...
I'll be alright.

Just have to remember,
your words cut like knifes.
Into my skin, carving lines.
Ownership marks.

MINE

There's several ways to thinking about.
Deriving it according to principles and theories.
Remembering there's tomorrow,
and a day after...

No matter what happens, will you take responsibility?

Oh no, that's why I'll take you back.
Oh no, that's the price I must pay.
Oh no, it will be alright...

Fading into a blue ball of anxiety...

The maiden of death wont be unwrought.
Sowing her gardens of the dying.
The wretches, she takes their souls,
placed into the bed of dirt, forevermore.

You've done it, gone in the ways and mistook my apathy for empathy. When have I ever shown a range of emotion like the arch of a rainbow? Instead,  blending into the background in shades of dark, dusty hues. My lackadaisical whims are nothing compared to the logic behinde string theory, or was it a theory based on my lack of range in emotions. I could be wrong but then again, I am an apathetic person.

So what do I know?