A spark,
a glimmer,
a dying ember
of your past.
Barely visible
but burning
all the same.
Forget it’s there
if you can,
but nothing good
can last.
Always waiting,
lurking
for your soul.
A spark,
a glimmer,
a dying ember
of your past.
Barely visible
but burning
all the same.
Forget it’s there
if you can,
but nothing good
can last.
Always waiting,
lurking
for your soul.
Take time and aim,
speed will win you
your very own blame.
Find fault in the game
but play by your rules
under your cloud of fame.
Live up to the name
and never realize
things will not be the same.
Sleep is all
about which I dream,
a slumber so
peaceful
so serene.
One day
’twill be so
and I’ll fight it
still,
not wanting
to go.
Plans fall through
and cities collapse;
civilization ceases,
pure happenstance.
Memories fade out
as hope washes away;
wonders do cease
when lonely hearts stray.
Oceans will rise
and hell fires burn
but while life dies around you,
the world will still turn.
Something eats
at my gut,
eviscerating,
wounding
beyond repair.
Something gnaws
in my brain,
tearing,
burning
in absolute pain.
Something devours
my heart whole,
gaping,
empty
will be my soul.
Something nibbles
on what is left,
remnants,
spare parts
beyond repair.
Damned, you’ll be
for loving
and living
and choosing
and hoping.
Eternal flames
will warm
my soul
while yours
awaits judgment
at the heavenly
toll.
Those eyes
could be the death of me.
Do I fall in
or stay safely
by the edge?
Those eyes
could breathe new life in me.
If only I dared
to play a little
closer to the ledge.
I take a step back
and the picture is clear
for the first time
in over a year.
Your intentions,
though well meant,
have crushed my heart
and left my soul bent.
I see what you hide
is bursting from your skin
and your true colors
show in the lies you spin.
The fire between us,
burns hot, can you tell?
No longer from passion,
but from the bowels of hell.
Written in blood
on a paint stripped wall
under the dim light
of one light bulb
a declaration of love
that cuts to the heart
both literally and figuratively
with needle and dart.
For the first time in years,
the kids were coming home
and this lonely mother
would not be alone.
She baked and she cooked
and she slaved away
while her wayward sons
fought and bickered all day.
Those two sons
never wanted to return
except to hurt one another
and watch the other burn.
Little did they know
this would be their last
chance to find peace
and put the past in the past.
For the first time in years,
the kids were coming home
and this lonely mother
wanted to be alone.
She baked and she cooked
and she slaved away
and with a drop of poison,
she kept her sons with foul play.