To Stoke a Fading Fire

With in my heart I feel a twinge, a sharp breaking, a strange unmaking as I cease to be again. A strange fading, this odd unmaking, as that cold settle in. It travels my bones, though I know they’re not old, and it stifles that fire of mine.

My furnace runs dark, the forge now unlit, if only, if only I had a steady hand and a  friendly face, someone to hold the flame and tend that fire while I travel through, too often mind you, that cold and dark place.

Still I strike the flint alone, I shovel the coals and sweat alone as I travel through that dark place and mind my fire alone; to keep it lit and keep me warm and as a reminder that even in that dark place, that empty cavern of mine, even there the sun does rise and light does still exist.

If only I could find my way through it’s labyrinthine depths to a place in open air to see the sun light anew, if only I had a friend with a steady hand to hold my own, perhaps then this darkened place wouldn’t be such a task to make it through.

Still I toil away, with this guttering fire and this dying flame, if only for a hope, that tiny dream of mine, to leave this maze, this endless cave that holds nothing but screams and sorrow to see that glorious day, to see the dawn breaking and remember anew, I’m still alive and I’ve yet more to do.


Something Lost/Never Found

I feel a pain, an echo of something lost and never found, a screaming searing a shattered soul.

I sit in shadows of something like sorrow, for that certain surrender I’ll never know, that I’ve never seen and will never show, that warm surrender of heart and soul.

That lovely listless like that loosens the grasping grip of grating life, that lights the shadows that shattered with strife.

I know the scream but not the whisper, I know the pain but not the touch, I’ve seen the light but live in darkness, in this cold sightless night.

I know so much but so little all the same, a life of empty knowledge, of seeing but never knowing the same.

My Mind – not sure which part this is

Hurting, hurting, hunting the scar and seeing the sound as I travels to the ground and Me goes away once more.

We has returned only to go to Their grave and They have yet to be seen again, and Us remains unsure.

I knows not the Me that came nor recognize the We that went once more I lost Myself to Them the only ones I once let in before.

The ones that broke Me and left Us sad, that crippled They and sent the others to Their grave but most of all they shattered I when they broke Me and We have never been the same.

I recognize not the shadows of We or this crazed cursed Me, the ones with scars and pain and its all I see. So all cry and scream and laugh because even shattered, even broken.

I and We and Me and They go to Their grave and sit and carouse and watch as the moon glowers down and the roses blossom tulip flowers, for even mad and even crazed All can speak as one.

“Least We’re not alone.”

Hall of Mirrors

Rotting and forgotten, I look about the place I reside, my gaze simply falling upon yet more failures to deride.

How did I get here? How did I come to this place? Filled with faces of those I believed to know, faces of those I thought I had grown to care for, to let inside my soul?

Yet, so little did I know. I gave my self an image, of what I wanted, what I thought them to be, in my selfish soul, in my self absorbed whole, I cared for what I thought them to be, making them more than they ever were alone.

So here, in this hall of mirrors, I look upon my face with disgust, and distrust, my lies now alone, simple ashes and dust as I live in this place made of mirrors. This place inside my soul that none will ever know…

Now I realize the truth, I have only ever been alone, and I won’t let another soul in, into this life of delusions and lies…

For it is mine, and I am cursed, to see what I want and not what is there, indeed to be banished here.

It is only fair.


Dreary, dreary, beat down, and weary is all I’ve know for far to long. I long for life and warmth and lightning, a taste of excitement and love.

Alas I’m alone and weary, beat down and dreary, with not to smile for.

I’ve walked in circles all this time, afraid to be in love, now I long and crave that warmth, that loving touch, that feeling never to be known.

For I am alone, beat down and oh so dreary with not to smile for.

My Armor is My Hell

Alone I hold, my breath tearing through my bones.

Alone I hold, the scream stifled in my lungs.

Alone, always alone, holding my self as I’ve no one to hold.

No one to hold me, no one is there, no one for me, I never did dare.

I never dared to let them in, I never dared to risk the hurt.

It seems a cruel joke now, that alone I hurt worse.

The pain rips through me, a cruel barb that dig deep.

The pain rips through me, it makes wish I could weep.

Yet my smile never falters, my armor never cracks.

What once kept me safe, now causes the harm, the armor the hell not the haven I sought.

That thought I once had, that alone is best, painless is better, is now the shard in my soul.

The pain it causes, leave me screaming and alone.

Habits I can not break, an armor now a hellish case.

A hell filled pit from which I can not escape.