Petty Crime

She opens up like a gun shot wound anytime she’s the one to blame,

She prattles like a convict trying to escape her truth,

Anything less than our belief will cause her to shoot,

Clips of doubt in our minds to have us question what’s true.

She’s a dauntless fugitive unaware of her crime,

Three years on death row with absolutely no clue.

She never stopped to ask,

She only speaks to counter what ever reality passed,

She wants to be the contradiction to the system,

She wants to be the criminal til grave.

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Untouch

I have inadvertently given quiet refuge to the forbidden desires of a pure soul,

I have catalyzed the corruption by caution-less acrobats,

With electric hands and a caring heart-

She now resembles both the main antagonist and protagonist of my fairy tale-

I tell to myself every night before I rest to ensure sleep,

I am starting to notice that the rotting could run deep-

Into her mentality,

And deeper into her personality,

Which would neutralize those electric hands and numb that caring heart,

Her disagreeable complex would rebuke her individuality and spoil rotten her image,

She would be unknowingly a herald of normalcy,

A feverous heretic to my cause,

I would lose her to the melting pot of low youth living he high life in the middle of insecurity and ignorance.

 

I would close my doors to her black touch and reset the nature of my shelter.

 

Dream 2

Smoke filled the area of my room,
She appeared in white garbs,
She fell sickly into my arms biting her tongue on the collapse,
She bulged her eyes with heavy tears that weighed down my chest,
I stared into her brown eyes and caught the storm in soul,
I reached inside her ribs to grab the pain from her breast and held remarkably tight,
My knee kept behind her head,
I took my hands from her pain and wrapped my arms her,
And held softly,
Her brown skin combusted into tan dust,
I scooped in my palms trying to capture her remains,
Instantly my life changed,
Instantly my fight changed,
Changed from fighting for her into fighting to stay sane,
Her storm moved to me,
My bones rained the water of her memories that remain plastered on my forehead and constantly sitting on my brain.
I have lost her again.

Dream 2.

If I Could

…grant her access to my mind with a roadmap of what rooms not to open-

I would pick her up by her perfect waist and place her at my doorway,

I would swear to my god that her experience would end in accord after her exclaiming me a prophet,

There would no longer need a reason to speak,

I would no longer have to give her a sneak peak through the window in the foyer,

Her body would bow, we would grow, and her heart would finally genuinely know,

What I mean by unconditional.

 

She would find her solution hanging from the fixtures,

She would see the potential of her future in the pictures,

She would be able to recognize the scent in the home,

And never ever have to question the reason why I fear being alone.

She would probably laugh at the clutter of yesterday’s expectations-

While running through the hallway in a fit of desperation to find my final declaration…the reason.

 

I feel she would search for weeks,

Body broken and heels weak,

Starring at her surroundings until she reaches a mirror and falls to her knees,

She, the reason, controls the pictures on the walls,

Controls the smell of the home,

Controls the complex fear of being alone,

With three simple words.

 

We would exit in peace fingers braided,

With forever a possibility again.

Insomnia

I keep my demons in my cellar,

The holy gatekeeper ironclad at the door,

I’ve gotten used to the sound of them beating at the floor,

They do not eat, because I do not feed,

They are not alive so they do not bleed.

 

Holy gatekeeper mantled in crosses,

Prays for hearts of the thoughtless,

Well righteous and dauntless,

Screaming psalms at the godless,

Oh gatekeeper my guard,

Tame the hate eaters,

Regard,

My sleep,

Discard,

Heresy.

 

The terror of prosperity,

The fear of accomplishment,

The possibility of failure,

The potential for success,

The beginning of nothing less than-

The inability to rest.

 

A Laugh

I am surrounded by tickled people,

And on my best day,

I cannot remember to laugh at the joke,

It’s something I can’t say,

Something about womenfolk that onsets the chuckles.

I am surrounded by gentlemen,

Upstanding and true-

That are arrested by the prospects of romanticism and chivalry,

It is ostensibly present in everything that they do,

This ensues a respect for women that some would call extinct,

But while these attributes lay closely with nobility,

The different hearts of their companions crush their potential,

The ship sinks for those men upholding civility,

They are no longer deemed essential and collapse under the desires of their lady,

Their hearts are second because nobility exclaims it.

I see this men giggling over their corrosion as they begin to lose themselves,

With her feet on his chest he rests in chaos and wakes in pain,

Everyday,

For this, I cannot laugh.

 

 

 

Oil And Snow

My deformities have taken shape,

Oil and snow,

Admiration and disgrace,

We all know,

That look on my face,

That still glare of the crow.

The intrigue of nascent disorder forces my hand to raise,

There’s no longer a god here to be praised,

Only the likings of the devoured man,

The ones gnashing on nails and dreaming of Hell,

I am home on soured land,

Dilapidated monuments and decencies taken by the plight of man,

The plight of men,

The women would stay tucked away in their homes,

The peace would stay buried with their bones,

And the wretched folk would parade the streets.

Oil and snow,

Flashes of a dying crow,

Failing where it feasts,

It has munched on greater beasts,

But cannot spring from its feet,

Useless wings, a broken beak,

The broken spoken I’d never speak,

A cry for something a cry for help,

The withered wreck and nothing felt,

Numbest replaces what the light has dealt,

Oil and snow,

More darkness than light,

The last white,

If I tired-

I could become life.