Wolf boy.

The gleam of the sun on his tired face
Young boy with too much time on his hands
Raising himself as he was
In the endless vistas; the milked sunlight
Too kind to his tired eyes
Immersing himself in the endless sky
But tethered to a dimming light
A canvas faintly abstract
By weathered convictions
Lost in stories of time
He'd try to free himself
If he wasn't so trapped
In the ideas of glory
The false traditions
The tinged truth of reality
Unleashing a false pretense
Unto his own existence
That confides in him
A burning envy
Unlike that of you or I
May be known as truth
Or scorn
But a trial of ambition
A world, that's meant
To exist
In the minds and hearts
Of everyone he touches
As he keeps to himself
Realizing time and time again
That he's found his reasons
Unfounded, unmotivated
Yet lack for a better effort
In place of a better idea
He's alone in this world
And the faces seems
Blank.

Ghosts being.

I see the painted horses
Mounting on the horizon
Of foreign seas
Beyond the begotten
True to source
They scatter
Like birds
Above the sunrise
Carrying
Shadows as they go
But what do I know?
That in fate
We'll belong to that
Which we cannot define
Some simple honor
Some mundane truth
Cast along a tepid sea
Of dishonest truth
Growing old
In the letters I write you
Truly, seeing my face
Weathered and passed
Made by the worried and morose
Tired beneath
My own strength
True to my own fate
Tied by the twine
That you tied yourself
With feeble, fragile hands
Carefully in contempt
Behind the shades
The shadows
And the hurt
I see the true face.

I wouldn't have you.

There's a place in the hands
And that's where we'll meet:
Overcast and shadowed
It's strange, confused, and new
I carried a casket down the beach
From Maine
The homeland
Unto myself
In a sacred image
Of saint mary
Blistering and glowing
In all her holy honor
Yet fire
Makes her
So cold to
The eye
Like a faint
Memory
On the beach

Trip.

Some ideal
Some ideal
Doesn't seem real
So I'll keep it to myself
Never release myself
Just a faulty truth
Kept beneath the dirt
Soon to surface soon
Unkept demons
Blossoming
Into nasty black flowers
Down the sidewalk
Something to trip over
And down
Till you're rolling
Into flames
Bursting into space
Never real
Never real
It's a big decision
To tell yourself

The day I lost my life.

Carried out by courteous patrons
I saw my body lifted
Carried off to the forest
I chased after
What I thought; an apparition
Yet the smell of the season
Sundered my reason
As I came to the truth
I was under the veil
Seeing the truth
Through obscurity
Truth blindfolded
And binding
To this close reflection
Of the half glass
Emptying
Stuck inside
My imagination
Pictures of you
Flooding
My mind
And those tall trees
Stand for something
Interrupted past
Quiet feeling
At peace
With the mounting
Dark
Leaving my family
For familiarity
Casting myself
As the outcast
It's you!
It's you!
...you're doing this to me
But it's no one.
Just myself.
Following
A path
To nothing
Lost in myself
Lost in those trees
Daring, bracing
Gone...oh, gone.
Oh my god.
i must be sorry.
For to long have I looked to the vestigial
Of self harmony
To cast my own orphan
Conceded abortion
Left productivity
Isolation
Cast in shadows
Underneath the calm
Of morning hollow
"Can I think one day with doubt"
"No, that, I doubt."

Drunk, dumb, & dull. "He'll have his last laugh with his suffering!"

I see the campfire lighting
The skeletal trees
In this grey mass
I stand back
Hidden in the hills
A silhouette lost amongst the darkness
I wondered if she had received my letters
A secret to keep
To herself
Or no on else
No one
So I bit my tongue
Bled it to water the seeds
See if the tree grows
The wind blows
Carries them elsewhere
Some place
Close to me
Or in a far thought
Somewhere I'd forgot
That would be worth reliving
To give a gentle feeling
Be kind
& take it upon myself
To walk the hills
And stay true
Till I'd make a mention
So soberly
To myself
In whispers
Of disrespect
:There'd be a guillotine:
A shadow of an execution
And a perfectly played part
By a head rolling

A great summary of the series "Lost".

Concentration broken up into fragments
Never meaning more than a lingering thought
To the main idea
Choking myself on air
Is a complex method for keeping still
Many forces at work in the dissolving and destitution
Of the creator of thoughts
Perplexed by the knots in his palms
His failure to put the pen to the paper
Like a knife sliding down an already opened wound
Blood spilling out
But it doesn't mean a damn thing
And for shame, for shame...
One to reflect back
On such tired stories
To pull one thread
Worth clutching
Drain it till it's dry!
Till there's nothing left!
We're immediate in our acknowledgements of such success
But bound to a basic formula
Not worth noting
Great pieces
Coming out of a great nothing
Stranded by itself
On the island



...And the falling
Of debris
As the plane crashes
Into the sea


Oh, the trappings of routine.

Photographs that meant what I had hoped.

Withered bones
In the carcass parking lots
Little boys and little girls
Playing on the monkey bars
Of skeletal fragments
Spines & skulls
I see my dying hands
Wrapped in the flesh of yours
Like an ill suited glove
It'll keep me warm but not for long
As I see the fading sun
Like the aftermath of a nuclear holocaust
My eyes seem to be so dry
They can't water
My body brittle and breaking
Like glass covered with old news papers
My blood like black thick ink
Runs down my body
Renewing the asphalt
Embedding myself
As I lose my ability to grasp
You fall as shatter
Carried away by a gentle breeze
I fall into your departing remains
Being carried away
I see the world from far away
And watch it fall unto it's self
Parking lot folds upon parking lot
Buildings unto one another
Collapsing, colliding, destructing
Into emergence
Upon it's new realization
A perfect place
To raise the kids.

Angel.

I dreamt I fell asleep
With the window open
A breeze chaotically came through
Sending my papers & works into a twister
It awoke me and as I attempted to gather my thoughts
I saw the angel standing in the lawn
Her image glowing with purpose
As the moon lit her like a candle
She came in as a shadow
Shifted to an arrow
And aimed at the apple
I stood up and looked at her with worry
As her feathers fell
She was molting
I peered into the hall
Making sure none one was about
Then made my way to cabinet
Grabbed a bottle of whiskey
Drank it down without much trouble
Walked back to my room
Saw her kneeling at my bed
Asked her to stand
As she did; she fell backward
Hitting the wall
With a terrible racket
Blood on the nightstand
She looked at me
With a waning glimmer of hope
Then to a vanity mirror
As it exploded
It was like crystal exposed to light
Shimmering waters when the moon was full
Her feathers ascending and descending
In a blinding burst
I fell to my knees
Watching the heavens collapse
As my heart stopped
My eyes sunk
And a last swallow
Felt my body in motion
As I fell deathly still
The feathers collecting
On my tears.

My faith hangs by the center of that cloud.

Falling from the sky
Straight into a parachute
Relaxed by the thin pillow
That swallows you whole
I see the hole in the cloud
From where I fell
Stays in the center
Till it shapes and folds
To something small
And not personal
Carrying a conversation
After the mid-air collision
Talking about the weather
As we free fall
Friendly enough fellow
But his attempts at lighting a cigarette
Don't go unnoticed
As we view the ground below
Hearing the crash
Before the fall
Deafening our thoughts
As we unwillingly continue
On with conversation
Like sharing a drink
His face turns
And all his shame
Flees to space
As we smile
Sincerely
As strangers do
Right before
One big awkward silence.