The writing of the mind is a dangerous thing.
Imaginary friends shouldn’t be able to do that.

Imaginary friends shouldn’t be able to do that.

10/10-13
(3)
Red Dress

Don’t put on your red dress 

for he doesn’t know the meaning

he doesn’t want the commitment

he doesn’t care for the color.

The red dress you love to wear

that’s stained from wine and beer

but still carries so much meaning

for who could find a second red dress

Don’t go out on your red dress 

for the man who wants nothing more

to screw around and doesn’t understand

the meaning behind a simple red dress.

A red dress for when you dance.

A red dress for when you cry.

A red dress for when you need it.

A red dress for when you care too much.

Don’t put on your red dress for him darling

he doesn’t care for the meaning.

Put it away in the closet, and rarely wear 

for he doesn’t deserve your dear red dress.

06/17-13
(12)
God called in sick today

God called in sick today,

and the sky is dancing.

People walked hand in hand

singing in tune with the damned.

Running without stories

'this is what tragedy feels like' 

dead is the new alive 

but misery loves company.

Racing with the devil 

one doesn’t dare stop against

the lord of the dammed 

he laughs against the concrete.

Can one play with madness

as they dance on clouds of mind?

Heavens a lie when butterflies are flying in hurricanes

And God takes a day off.

Wasted time throwing rocks at stars

souls refuse their eternal rest 

they drink a cup of galaxy for breakfast

hymn of the shameless.

Obsession is an ugly word.

When dead becomes the new alive

the devil walks the earth

and God takes a day off work.

06/05-13
(4)
Death Takes Two Sugars

Death knocked on the door
came inside without invitation
poured herself some tea
and asked for a story.

He laughed at all the right parts,
cried when I cried,
asked for more than she received
silently demanding.

It cried with me and laughed with me
sipping their tea and listening
she wondered what I didn’t do
then told me how idiotic I was.

He told me about the children
I could have had but didn’t
and the falls that lifted me up
with the loss of others.

The story of how I almost killed a girl
when she ran into the street
scared her to run into the arms of her father
and never ran into the street again.

The tale of the man who meant for me
yet still didn’t want me
and that was not my fault but his
for his life went on a different path.

Death pushed in his chair and declared, 
‘It’s time for you to go’
despite my tea’s warmth
and my story was not quite finished.

‘I’m not ready to go’
I bellowed and threw my cup
it shattered but did not crash
hot tea spilled yet did not stain.

‘That does not matter, it is time.’
One long hand stretched out
beckoning me forward
promises that could not be said.

‘Time for what?’
I asked, still I knew the answer
for when the tea spilled and didn’t stain
and the cup fell but did not break, I knew.

‘Time to die.’
I had no choice, I had to go
for I was dead long before
death came to visit.

05/25-13
(5)
Tea with the Rabbit

Tea with the rabbit today
He spilled the tea and blamed me
Yet it really was my fault

And when he danced and sang
I could not join in merriment
For the ropes that bound did not budge

"Merry unbirthday!"
He would scream and cry while drinking tea
And I would laugh while hiding tears

He said he was late
For what I know naught
But he did not leave my nightmare

"The Queen of Hearts is evil"
And I agreed blindly but I couldn’t help
wonder if she was really the evil one

Dormouse his friend of valiant honor
Rammed his sword into my thigh
And grinned when I wept and bled

And my one and only friend sat across
Sipping his tea without a care, mumbling nonsense
A giant hat upon his head outweighed his judgement

Tea was scalding as it poured down my throat
He didn’t care with feet thumping down
Pleas to stop fell on deaf cottontail ears

Merry unbirthday and cheers
Tight ropes and burning tea
Tea with the rabbit has just begun.

05/08-13
(11)
Change is coming

Mind to change the world,
Do you hear the people sing? 
yet you bite your tongue.

04/22-13
(4)
Daddy, I love you. 

Daddy, I love you. 

04/14-13
(200)
Drawings

I drew on the walls

when life wasn’t enough

the drawings were scribbles

that made no simple sense

yet when I drew they came alive

my heart and soul expressed

pretty ponies and dinosaurs

all simple scribbles of mine

when the parent returned

and saw my mess

the blood that stained

drew a prettier picture than

my simple scribbles

04/08-13
(249)
Little Drummer Boy

Little drummer boy goes marching on

rat a tat tat encourages the men of battle

and little drummer boy marches on.

 

Little drummer boy age of twelve

never had his very first kiss

marches with men and makes himself one.

 

Little drummer boy misses his mom

ran away from home for glory

didn’t know that war was gory.


 

Little drummer boy stained red

watched his friends fall dead

little drummer boy wasn’t a boy anymore.

04/03-13
(2)
Bullets

when bullets rained right as rain

soldier boy sat in Armageddon

piteous rain covering his sight

hiding the blood soaked muck

single shot left in chamber

weapon left in desperate times

spinning chamber round

fiery pain burns shoulder down

enemy staggering forward bounds

cowards way out or hero’s duty?

fear hit the heart, plagued the brain

soldier boy took the cowards exit. 

03/28-13
(2)

Love don’t fail me now

Dreams don’t make a sound

Nothing more can be said

For I am a dandelion

In love with a rose

And all I have left

Is unrequited love

And dreams of naught

03/27-13
(1)
Love’s eyeless arrow struck once
Cupid’s blindness every presence
And when love left heart sore,
I begged to be struck once more,
Alas, Cupid’s bow did not strike forth. 

Love’s eyeless arrow struck once

Cupid’s blindness every presence

And when love left heart sore,

I begged to be struck once more,

Alas, Cupid’s bow did not strike forth. 

03/26-13
(1)
Modern Day Romeo and Juliet

Modern Day Romeo and Juliet

03/24-13
(11)

To die, to sleep- to sleep- perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this moral coil, must give us pause.

03/24-13
The wind used to whisper things to me; even in the dead of night it would come forth, spewing its single phrase of nonsense words that never made sense. For there never had to be enough wind, there never had to be a cold night, whenever there was a doubt, the wind would answer the call. 'The crow is watching you'Simple phrase, the five words forming together to make a concrete sentence. Yet a crow was never seen through the eyes. The call was heard when silence was too thick, the clatter and clicks of claws would appear when the world was too peaceful, and the rustle of feathers would overpower the escalades of society. The wind needed to take its rests, and the sounds of the crow would take its place. 'The crow is watching you'The wind would return, because the pitter and patter of the crows could be ignored over time. The wind would whisper down the spine, saying its lowly sentence of haunting. Ridding its host of the familiarity of life, the honorable afflictions that normal beings went through on a daily basis. A constant, but simple reminder that they weren’t normal and that every moment, of every day'The crow is watching you'Wandering scratches, marks on the arm and shoulder, claws burying deep into the skin as if the crow had stood there itself. Never a questioning glace at the low cut shirt that declared the marks for all to see, though the still fresh wounds would still bleed through the fabric. They weren’t seen by the normal person, but the host would be burdened with restless nights and nightmares for the wind of its reminder began to follow into the sleep.'The crow is watching you'Endless nights of howling wind, constant barrages against the door. Caws and screams of a crows high pitch carrying through the wind, but the pitch black of night never showed more than the tree standing tall, never swaying through the howling wind, even though it banged the window open and shut, open and shut, again and again. It always carried its words of warning, constantly repeating through the night and leaving sleep untouched. 'The crow is watching you'Caw! The crow cried, a brief showing of the claws and feathers against the window, as it slammed itself against it. Constant nights of no sleep, wounds that no one seemed to notice, and the wind that never moved a tree. Caw! Came the sound again, though the window didn’t shutter against the touch at all. The host stared at the window, waiting, watching, every moment of its waiting life, finally letting itself get a glimpse of the crow whispers. 'The crow is watching you'The wind ripped through the window, one large eye beaming its yellow glare through the glass. The gleam of the bright gold eyes burned through the Host, staining the colors darker than their once pure shade. The eyes traveled, burning through memories and secrets, a platter of score in front of the gold shaded eyes. 'The crow is watching you'Curtains billowed and the window was open, but none of the things moved, the sheets didn’t ruffle in the breeze that shook the Host’s hair, nothing besides the clothes and hair of the Host fluttered in the wind that took everything in the room and turned it away. The Host buried under the blankets, shivering and simply listening to the sounds.'The crow is watching you'Tapping sounded on the floor, and the caw of the crow was heard. Something tugged at the end of the bed, and the Host moved away from the dent in the folds of the blankets. The darkness of the room engulfed the host, the movements at the end of the bed only worsened the fear and the Host was engulfed in. 'The crow is watching you'Blankets were torn away, the wind ripped away, the Host was exposed, the shriek of the crow was heard. 'The crow caught you'

The wind used to whisper things to me; even in the dead of night it would come forth, spewing its single phrase of nonsense words that never made sense. For there never had to be enough wind, there never had to be a cold night, whenever there was a doubt, the wind would answer the call. 

'The crow is watching you'

Simple phrase, the five words forming together to make a concrete sentence. Yet a crow was never seen through the eyes. The call was heard when silence was too thick, the clatter and clicks of claws would appear when the world was too peaceful, and the rustle of feathers would overpower the escalades of society. The wind needed to take its rests, and the sounds of the crow would take its place. 

'The crow is watching you'

The wind would return, because the pitter and patter of the crows could be ignored over time. The wind would whisper down the spine, saying its lowly sentence of haunting. Ridding its host of the familiarity of life, the honorable afflictions that normal beings went through on a daily basis. A constant, but simple reminder that they weren’t normal and that every moment, of every day

'The crow is watching you'

Wandering scratches, marks on the arm and shoulder, claws burying deep into the skin as if the crow had stood there itself. Never a questioning glace at the low cut shirt that declared the marks for all to see, though the still fresh wounds would still bleed through the fabric. They weren’t seen by the normal person, but the host would be burdened with restless nights and nightmares for the wind of its reminder began to follow into the sleep.

'The crow is watching you'

Endless nights of howling wind, constant barrages against the door. Caws and screams of a crows high pitch carrying through the wind, but the pitch black of night never showed more than the tree standing tall, never swaying through the howling wind, even though it banged the window open and shut, open and shut, again and again. It always carried its words of warning, constantly repeating through the night and leaving sleep untouched. 

'The crow is watching you'

Caw! The crow cried, a brief showing of the claws and feathers against the window, as it slammed itself against it. Constant nights of no sleep, wounds that no one seemed to notice, and the wind that never moved a tree. Caw! Came the sound again, though the window didn’t shutter against the touch at all. The host stared at the window, waiting, watching, every moment of its waiting life, finally letting itself get a glimpse of the crow whispers. 

'The crow is watching you'

The wind ripped through the window, one large eye beaming its yellow glare through the glass. The gleam of the bright gold eyes burned through the Host, staining the colors darker than their once pure shade. The eyes traveled, burning through memories and secrets, a platter of score in front of the gold shaded eyes. 

'The crow is watching you'

Curtains billowed and the window was open, but none of the things moved, the sheets didn’t ruffle in the breeze that shook the Host’s hair, nothing besides the clothes and hair of the Host fluttered in the wind that took everything in the room and turned it away. The Host buried under the blankets, shivering and simply listening to the sounds.

'The crow is watching you'

Tapping sounded on the floor, and the caw of the crow was heard. Something tugged at the end of the bed, and the Host moved away from the dent in the folds of the blankets. The darkness of the room engulfed the host, the movements at the end of the bed only worsened the fear and the Host was engulfed in. 

'The crow is watching you'

Blankets were torn away, the wind ripped away, the Host was exposed, the shriek of the crow was heard. 

'The crow caught you'

03/24-13
(5)
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