I am afraid,

There is fear,

This told finally,

Outside of me,

Thoughts more gently,

There is fear,

There is shaking,

Me, nigh, near,

Brinks of concession,

I wield bodes of my collapse,

Some from heaven,

Some from hell,

None of now.

I fear empty rooms,

One mile into fading road,

Silver trees with block woods,

Black leaves,

Black would…engulf the waning light,

In eyes of me,

I fear axes held by powered me,

Beating grounds below,

With concrete cracks,

There is much much fear.

Mornings…within long days,

After merging nights,

That seem to bleed into mornings,

I fear the presence of no one,

When ends the ways of happiness,

Then goes compulsion into prosperity,

I am inert in active days,

I am work-shy within potential affluence,

I am the weight to my sailing ship, holes,

Isolation, the flooding waters,

Solitude killing healthy solidarity,

Quiet killing the noise of laughs,

Whole, broken halfs-

Forced…forced to make me,

Dragging my weakened body-

Through jagged split sticks,

Oozing veins, swollen arms,

I am afraid to be…

Outside of intimacy.

Red Rose

Imaginary whites paint tactile floors,

Red roses in sin, the river pours,

Toting red petals like sands of shores,

Uncountable quantities of red scores.

The broken bodies of dried roses chip in rush,

The stench of sin, unholy musk,

I picked from stems of bushes unjust,

Poke and prod, stab and cut,

Stain the white consume by touch,

I kiss the blood, my open fingers,

I miss her love…my broken thinker.

I pick…because of her absence,

I pull…to honor my memories,

I poke…to actuate feeling,

I can see the red in the clear,

The happiness, the fear,

To my enemies,

The killing,

Of fragmented fixtures of lovely thought,

I use both hands to recreate a dying image,

Color coding with black and red,

Sort the well from dead,

I fight and fought,

A red rose in still water,

Under the shade tree outside the library in East Mecklenburg,

The clamor of wilding children to kill the quiet,

Innocent genesis mutate into perverse ends,

My guided hands, flapping jaws, illusive sins,

Stab the victim with saw-like knives and grin,

In dark brown eyes is where I chose to begin,

The rest of my life…

The rest of my wife,

Swept away in still waters,

Wading women wishing worse…

Of a growing marriage,

Screaming society in fragile ears,

They broke like glass into grounds to which I stepped,

I lost my balance and wept,

At the feet of my beloved,

At the feet of my beloved,

At the feet of my beloved,

She drove her nails across my bleeding back,

I grabbed her shins, I’m bleeding black,

By shards of women’s wicked words,

Going deaf to my cries, oh unheard,

…oh red rose in clear water,

Washed away by winds of them,

No sun’s gaze, no nature’s hymn,


No simple misfortune,
A violent disease of the blood,
I am constantly paranoid as to when I may just explode,
With a rare genetic anger, beautiful in its methodologies.

A curse from old origin,
The first drip of my substance,
To battle with my benevolence with logical negativities,
Presentations of stunning shortcomings, a catalyst to rage.

Stubborn women feed into my inability to resist the craving to dismember the mind of the oppressor,
Sly statements to pull the trigger,
Fluctuating urban tones to sharpen the bullet,
Utter disrespect to bloody the hands to confirm the kill.

What We

Oh whoa we,

We as a whole,

The conviction of interests and closely knit goals,

The reach of something more beyond stained silver and blemished gold.

Oh whoa we,

We as a group,

The affliction of what combined drive could offer to truth,

The essence of time, presence and involvement in youth.

Oh whoa we,

We together,

In harmony, a gift for forever,

To make shortcomings no longer an endeavor.

Oh whoa us,

We, built on trust,

We grabbed winds and tug gusts,

Of passing prosperity,

We knowingly joined the popularity,

To be warned of the dangers of clarity,

In times of other’s clouded judgement,

We became, created, when others could make nothing of it,

We saw a forecast of rainy days and rewrote,

When silence chilled clouded chapped rooms, we spoke,

We made possible of from which those joked,

We removed the generational cloak-

That presented us as a selfish folk that choked,

On the words of our ancestors and old,

We know that success was not a product to be sold,

We lovingly adopted what we were told,

And put it flames,

We know that we are only to blame,

For our inability to change,

The very foundations that left our demons free and untamed,

That we are to blame,

For our chains,

We will, by our eternal domain,

Be glorified,

Oh whoa we.

Just Say It

So I lay with my doubts,

As her beauty remains certain, constant,

I am slow to speak,

It has been hours, weeks.

I revolve around the reasons for my silence,

A topic of unworthiness and confidence,

Cause and consequence from a fragile upbringing,

A silence, my ears are ringing,

My heart is pounding, my chest is stinging,

Then she walks away,

I am twenty one years old,

Still yearning to be bold,

Still poking holes in this unfortunately unbroken mold,

Of people’s goals,

To taint a previously golden soul,

With abuse and mishaps and misuse,

Of a closeness formed before youth,

I am tired of facing unfortunate truths,

That no matter how hard I try…I will still be proof,

That some people are wholly bad.

She walks away,

The music has changed to a calming harmony,

The moon is filled partially,

The air is filled with tobacco smoke and dishonesty,

I am unseen in clouds of gray,

I have yet again, missed a chance to say…


So I now lay with my doubts,

As her beauty remains certain, constant,

I am slow to speak,

It has been hours, I am weak.


She rejoices,
3, 218 choices,
By combinations from articles of clothing she reads with her eyes,
She dresses, scurries, to the 6 foot mirror, she agrees with the way the fabric traces her thighs,
She grabs her makeup for beauty creation,
First, the foundation of expectations,
Second, the blush of vanity,
Third, blackening eyebrows with artistic adeptness,
Fourth, gray lipstick for instilling mystery,
The toil of the illusionist!

To town, with whorish friends, all different in attractiveness, all different masks,
1,2,3 a fourth glass–
Stings the throat,
Jabs and pokes at her fragile structure, no coat —
Both cold,
Thankfully some devious guy came to give gold by fabric jacket,
Grab it, sip it, tag it, snap it,
Snatch it, rip it, tag her, attack it,
A pill in cup, up in throat,
Shhh, keep still and hope,
Ew goody it worked,
She excuses a silly quickly dizzy burp,
Where are her whores?
He grabs her shaking wrist,
To dance and twist about the floor,
She’s weary…

Guidance to apartment,
Close the door,
Flimsy, clumsy, modest whore,
Lift the dress, remove the panties,
Impale by fingers quite handy,
Latex hug, a dive inside,
His voice guides, confirmation with weak head shakes,
His second head hat breaks,
Fun and mistakes,
He came and went,
She woke…a night believed unspent,
2 months later and a bump.

She 1,055 choices,
From combinations of affordable activities she read in articles,
But her childish preferences lied in drink,
Particles of dust from disgust sleep on her heavy tongue,
The night she turned 21 years young.

White Moon

White moon all day,
Why do you come for me?
You must stop staring,
Remove your arms from my atmosphere,
Your cold is unwelcomed here,
I’m still in the middle of repairing!,
Myself from the last ice age–
You caused in swift rage,
It’s been 66 days,
I’ve tried over 67 ways-
To rebuild the shattered prices of my chest,
I’ve taken energy from my mishaps to try best,
The further my cut fingers endure the more I become less.

White moon all day,
Leave me alone,
It took seconds for you to refuse to not stay gone,
Mixed in frays of self and past,
Myself of glass and glue,
I cannot continue because I am not liquid enough to pass through you,
Or dense enough to split you open,
Not immovable you are, but broken,
You are white, silent, and unspoken,
You most go away, your progression is pressing mine.

Giant white moon simply burn cold in night,
While my eyes are closed and my neighbors fight,
Over which word is right “affect or effect”
White moon…not yet.


I’ve noticed that people confuse certain right with factual wrong,
They justify murder by stating it was in  protection of principles,
Ideals as pinnacles-
Atop congregations of distorted ethics far from seminal,
And what lies underneath becomes our compulsion,
Our propulsion deep into the ways of the black-hearted.

The chilling truth that mankind’s biggest danger…is mankind,
We will char from fires of clouded judgement, and drown by tides of consequence.