A Heavy Storm Heads My Way

a heavy storm heads my way
but all i want is sleep
as I watch the darkened trees sway.

in the growing winds that last all day
it takes all my strength to keep
the heavy storm that heads my way,

from showing on my face as i lay.
my gaze so fixed and so deep
i watch the darkened trees sway.

all i can think is “come what may”
i’ll be waiting, as you try to sweep
the heavy storm that heads my way,

you try to blow it far away.
i just might make you sow and reap
as I watch the darkened trees sway.

leaving a bitter taste, i say
“look before you leap”
as the heavy storm heads this way
i watch the darkened trees sway. 

Thoughts on The Bathhouse

They say that nothing becomes erratic within these walls.
they say that this space ruptures us

and nothing becomes something within these walls.
and something is a disturbing thing to be.

thoughts dissipate, peace and quiet becomes angry violence
air turns to poison within these walls

those with no purpose, those without faces
we become torment, within these walls

aimless rage,
endless war

let my vision die
while i eat my neighbor

swallow him whole

i am death within these walls

tear you to shreds,
and bathe in your blood.

this faceless pride
takes my mind

spitting poison
breathing smoke

i’ve lost my mind
within these walls,

let the others have their disaster
let the others kill themselves within these walls

but let me flee
to regain who i am to be

outside of these walls

Nico Robin (Diligence and Vigilance Lost)

feelings are fleeting
but my existence
is not.

torn in two
the cut
that will not heal
and continues to bleed

losing focus
drowning in
dizziness

the cut
gets scraped
and opens wider
every day

i am now nothing
but the wound
that defines me

no one comes near
no one come near

and just let me die
let my eyes close
as i float away
into darkness

If You’re going to save me
then just give me resolve
just give me purpose

just let this wound close
once and for all  

Who Looks Down

when the dead
buried their own dead

who was left standing
covered in mud and dirt?

fear is a consuming feeling

the roots using the rotting dead
as nutrients for the growth

twisting around my heart
squeezing me until i can hardly breathe

i can hardly think

who are the rotting
who looks down on them?

where do i lie?
in the pit
or on its edge?

who looks down on me
and do i care?

do i hesitate
in the door
will i make it through
or will it slam in my face?

i can hardly think

but i have my resolve
i have made my choice

the fear
is now something i can start cutting away.

i won’t hesitate
i won’t procrastinate

so let me rise
from the pit
in which i lay 

My God, I’m fractured, but I don’t feel the breaks.

My epic

The King of... Drama

hair raises, vision blurs, hands shake and sweat.

loss of speech, all mental connection to every function severs

wrong or wronged?

no sense of feeling as this gorilla throws a tantrum
and feces all about the room

the king of apes
the spectacle of stench

center of attention
only viewed from a distance

loss of control is no reason for pride,

now i’m sent back to the night
spent staring at that street light

cast out, and alone
because of pride
and fear’s anger

where have i gone
from there to here?

to be staring at a past
that’s standing before me

spin out of control
and puke from the dizziness.
covered in grammatical bile
and babbling like a baby

should i stand up now?
or have someone stand for me

clean myself off?
or make someone do it for me

pride shatters my image
my life
and my love

leaves me standing alone
with self pity and and a mirror

will i walk on two legs
and accept my own folly

or bound on all fours
in a selfish, empty jolly

…

the king of drama
the lord of self

i stare at myself in the mirror, not surprised, but surprisingly horrified. i’ve seen this before, dribbling, sniffling idiocy, stumbling over myself trying to justify spilled milk. pointing fingers and passing blame, angrily silent and blindingly ridiculous.

the boy who screamed at you, “this is a wolf!”
after he was shown it was merely a dog.
dumbfounded and repulsed,
you cocked back your hand

i, the king of drama
and self delusion,

find a bruise on my cheek, i’m sorry i didn’t see it sooner,
before i drank that potion, before i split into two.

hiding behind word and the occasional rhyme
when all i should say, is i’m sorry i lost it.

i’m sorry i hurt you

i’m sorry for my pride, the overgrown monster that you called out
and me who lashed out protecting it,

i came here for you, not a monster,
so, covered in blood, i wash my hands of that thing

and say, i’m sincerely sorry, for how i treated you