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In shadows cast by stone and fear, I find myself, the path unclear. A dilemma looms, a heavy weight, Where do I turn? What lies in fate? Shall I trust the echoes of my mind, The wisdom gathered, the truths I find? Or delve within, where silence dwells, Into the chambers, where my spirit swells? With every breath, a whisper calls, Inward...

Why do I stand here, screaming? Into this stormy weather. Do I want to be heard, or am I to afraid? To get noticed… Why does it have to be? All or Nothing! I have you, I am happy. No one gets me, the world falls apart. Trying, but not hard enough Doing it all at once, no focus Try to focus, nothing gets done Screaming! So loud, but nothing. Fall...

The dusty jacket, tattered, did belie Within held pearls bespeaking truth To bring within perfect symmetry The recipe I needed in my youth So distracted I walked through the falling library Of shelves begging with every groan To collect pages torn falling unwary Those voices would fade to the unknown About flew ravens taunting with...

Only the night matters, its granaries filled with gold, the awakening of the voice. Under the regime of the sun time bends the heart, waiting frays the mind. That's where I survive, among fragments of screams and visions of blue; my dream-horse lost in the desert.

On a wave above the Moon a crimson silence froths Makes you forget yourself and hurts when you can’t laugh For when you try to touch the Moon but glide a little past This silence is forever and rhymes ‘a broken heart’

Shackles cast of steel Held by ball and chain Heaving with my shame A pretense of a shield Stench of failure, unclean Decay chanting its creed Encased, the coffin is sealed I claw and try to scream To demons I forcibly kneel Fraying and tearing at seams Body bitter and maimed “Spare yourself and yield” “No!” Shouts a soul...

However it cooled between us, let it begin again. Show me the room in you that I was welcome in again. Your shoulder shrugs my hand off like a coat in April, so I pocket both hands, fold all my wanting in again. I ration tenderness now like sugar in a war year, afraid to offer what will not be taken in again. We used to talk until the candle...