It was in April we met of last year
Never thought I'd hold you so dear
A curious thing I thought you were
Loud, eccentric, and certainly belligerent
Of my feelings, mostly inconsiderate

At odds were we from the start
With every argument we rip each other clean apart
We clash like demigods on the battlefront
I, petulantly persistent and you, cruelly blunt
I am stubborn and prideful just like you
An abundance of intense feelings between we two
Polar opposites in personality are we
But some of the things in you I see in me

Leery was I of your intentions
Following every reply with even more questions
See, no matter how hard I try can't read you
So handing my trust over to you is an issue
I've never had someone be so true
It scares me to death, because true people are so few

Even if you are not meant to be my lover
You'd be a genuine friend--like no other
(Even at times when we can't stand one another)

Patient sometimes you are with me
As I slowly release my grip and conceed to our reality
For whatever twisted reason there may be
I love you for you and you love me for me

“For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face:
now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.”*
-1 Corinthians 13:12

The half-light pale- a shroud
And light by cones is dimmed.
Let rods take slack against
The pall in onerous work.

There is no glass, darkly-
Nothing so brittle for the bare
Birthed of Eden land-
There is smoke and doubt.

Glass is sand and bonds.
No, more than this is cloud
To man, to hamper man.
Something moving, surely:

Length of grasping arm
And force of fiber, lew,
Is lame to pull this shade
That sets upon our sense.

Nyx, the *****, is suspect:
Her fruit conceed to Achlys-
Geras gives her work-
To ink the lens of Man.

The Great Goddess Night,
Her spawn as Stygian wraiths,
Take Solomon's grace and view
From even mighty Argus.

Granted, God has tools
For glass, but who has might
Enough to pull the mask
From Achlys, born of Night?

                    -c. c. Condry

Finding inner strength is hard
That is to say,
when my eyes are tired
and I'm perpetually bored with everything
that might be the possibility
of some sort of
unforseen progression,

I lose any words
to hold in the moment
with something you might conceed
to understand.

Sand me down with your selfish demands
and gritty hands
after two days past
when you should've cleaned up a bit.

Maybe in late summer
the rag **** will swirl about
and I'll say I have
an allergy headache
and maybe that's why
I'm congested
and mildly depressed
and sure, maybe
that's it
or maybe
it's because of all the cigarettes.

Don't hate me if I don't answer
I've just found something new
to captivate my attention
for the moments when we part.

The tension of what's expected
hangs thick in incense smoke
and anticipation.

I'm migrating into something misplaced
and full of consternation.

C.e.M. August 16, 2015

words, words, "worthless *****"
cuts on her wrist and blood on the floor
nobody knew how she made herself bleed, nobody knew how she wanted to conceed
she covered her scars all too well, so they continued making her life hell
she cried and cried and cried
all their hurtful words
are the reason that pretty girl died

It’s again that time of day
To sit staring
At the blank page
That tempts me to resign
Conceed my opinion and drive
To continue this daily stride
But i get over it
And i press the keyes
And write untill im all used up
And hav e no life left to spend

It’s all dread and drudgery
Life is
The highlights only shine so bright
Because there’s n o competition
Around them to outshinte
I can feel myself change
With every steting sun
For each one
Encompasses me in a tidal wave

Im’ urning into somthing,
Someone i am not
Can you sense it too?
Or have you alread y forgotten
That the winter breeze has departed,
And the lihtg push against you
Is my exhale,
Chilling you to your bones
When did I become so cruel?

I'd bow my weary head
To the angel that is dead
In our garden
The killer sits
On a metal chair
Where no one ever gets
To
His arm is as dead
As his empty head
His other hand points to.
Alerted I cried he must
Be the guy but no
Ones here to hear
As grey rises to his feet
I conceed defeat
And fall right out asleep
As I wake up I realize
I'm sitting in my easy chair .