Ha, Fah, Boom, Bah.

Betrayal, the willful slaughter of hope.
Artful passion will lead us all to the impressionable Abyss of Martyrdom. From that dark chasm, one should hear the groanings of ephemeral lovers; their twisted arms clinging to the earthy walls, fingers entwined and legs in amplexus. Naught that we shouldn't also hear the soft whisper of warning from the water lingering at the bottom of that deep tomb. So, you shall sit in that silence. The trepidation within your heart will help you swallow at night and breathe during the day. You'll be gone by the first morning light.

Soft Shock

It's getting colder outside.
Maybe I just imagined it all along.
What's the time, What's the day?

The Book of Love

Chagrin... the darkest shade of the word. Eyes are darkened and lips are flushed with colour. Not a one to appreciate the romance that winter has to offer in the face of a woman with a warm embrace.

Canals of Our City

Oh, to kiss the palms of His hands just to know where He's been.

That is the love that I strive for.

Keen vision

I don't want to be someone that you run from. I'm happy for you... that you found the One. Who knew she was just lurking in the space between your lips and your nose. I want to be remembered in a happy way. You have a little one now. I know that you really love her. You'd want her to know your love. She loves you. And the One, she loves you. I know she does. She needs you. Is that the kind of love that we're all striving for? Is that it? Happiness. It gives way to grief. You must be a better man. And I- I only fit into one place... that place I haven't found yet. I haven't found my place yet. You're where you should be. With your family, that you love, and that loves you back. I know now what I couldn't give to you. Aren't you happy that I let you go? Or did your plans change? Did you know that this is what you needed? It seems so obvious to me now. Is there just so much hurt in your heart? She said... You once said that it doesn't matter anymore. And yet, here I am pouring my hurt into a notecard or two. It matters to me. It means a lot to me. But, these days, everyone seems to think that I've got it all wrong. That I try at all of the wrong things. You probably feel the same way. I shouldn't try to talk to you or try to see you. You wouldn't approve of it. You'd run or get angry or both. It wouldn't make any difference to you. I think I just miss you. But, you're already at home.

We are all special cases.

We are, all of us, made of the same carbon-based decaying matter that returns to the dust upon which we stand each day. And yet, each phrase uttered upon the earth will circle around the world until there is no place left without a sound or the mark of a faint whisper. We fill the air with thoughts, thoughts not original but borne of different times. And what if the kind words we say run into the terrible words of others... Do they stop, remove their clothes and say, "Good morning" or ask, "Where are you coming from...?" "Can we be friends if I promise to love you for what you are?" I know it's too late... I should've given you a reason to stay.

Reality Sandwiches

You crazy bluey-eyed bastard, East my dust...