There is an ache in my heart

There is an ache in my heart,
Like A convulsing, cracked pipe,
The blood that leaks into my veins, cold,
My breath, like stones in my throat,
An image of you like a photograph in my mind.

Stop it!
Oh stop it somebody from freezing my body,
From turning me cold,
From turning me dry,
Oh stop it from freezing my body,
Stop it before i die.

The fog clears and the cracks heal,
But the blood still too cold to feel,
My breath hesitates as my lungs exhale,
My limbs are heavy and my eyes knowing:
I've seen it around you, the wall you've built,
To keep me out or to keep you in.
You've cemented the bricks with my blood,
The blood clings to you like skin,
And i watch it change your form,
I watch you grow into it.

My blood is too weak to tear your skin,
And your skin too tight o hold on,
My eyes reach out, holding on to your remains,
While you look too far beyond.

Frozen

The waves lash against the shore,

The stormy blue sky, electric,

The rocks take refuge in the water,

The foam like the hair of a raging queen,

I stand on the shore watching.

The sand feels cold and rough,

The light too bright for my eyes,

And the darkness too lonely,

Just beyond, the roads and lamps

The constant buzz of fast life,

People smoking, laughing:

Bliss.

But where I stand, life is still,

The breeze heavy with moisture,

The water full and mighty,

Yet still,

And time passes leaving me behind,

Still standing there: frozen.

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Streams of light on your empty chair,
The house echos it's emptiness,
Wisps of air like your sighs,
Escape through shut windows and doors.

She walks around trying to ignore,
The loose ends of the puppet strings,
But the gap in time you've left behind,
Draws her too fast into misery.

The clock continues to tick,
Through every moment of despair,
Passing every moment as if unaware.

We pass by your chair,
Skirt around it even,
Not avoiding your memory,
But wanting to believe you still sit there.
We Hold up a glass to you,
And drink to your health,
Just because it's what we've always done.

Your chair still sits empty though,
We hear the sighs as we pass,
The invisible boxes of medicines,
The large T.V that you could watch,
Hold you in a realm we cannot see,
And we smile in hope,
That happy you will be.

When Its Time To Die

I look up at the looming sky and wonder why,
At night it always seems deeper than day,
Like an expanse surrounding thy,
Spreading it’s contagious dismay.

The smell of bitter remains,
Of the last shreds of pain,
That stab my heart for reasons unknown,
Feels like a garden with weeds over grown.

Looking back at the years gone by,
The ups and downs that have silently spied,
On a peaceful merry life,
Look to God like in food, spice!

The sting of a thorn seems,
To hurt more than a cut on the skin,
Yet above it all still gleams,
A rose, like that which has never been.

So look back and laugh at those times you’ve cried,
‘Cuz someday you’ll look back and know you’ve been tried.
For only those strong enough to handle life,
Are brave enough to smile when it’s time to die…

Unreal World

I walk down the shore one moon lit night,

The sand is cold under my feet,

And the water gleams like diamonds,

The smell of wet sand and the sound of the waves,

Unaware of the sounds of turmoil.

The stars that glitter know not,

That the light of hope dies out,

In the distance the sea gull,

Cannot sing the songs lament,

And the rocks alive with algae,

Know not the slippery hands of a lover.

As this unreal world does it’s magic,

The sands of time draw their swords,

So their sharp clinks can resound,

Down in the dungeons of hell.

The Season That Does Not Pass

I waited as the rain pattered on the roof,

Each drop like the clamour of swords.

The smell of mud fills the air,

An aura of purity lingers.

The rain washes all it touches,

Cleans every surface and crevice,

Yet, even such purity fears,

That which is inside the human mind.

I watch as the season passes,

I’m still waiting as winter arrives,

The chill that fills the air,

Sends shivers down my spine.

The flowers fret and crouch,

The water pricks my hands,

But the icy breeze is warmer,

Than the frozen hope in our mind.

Winter melts into summer,

The green dries out,

And the heat kills,

But only a miracle can end my wait,

For a season that brings hope and love,

And faith and dreams,

For a season that does not pass,

I wait in vain,

I wait in hope,

For that spark of fire,

Unafraid of man’s cold and bitter desire.

Down That Street

I’m walking down the street,

It’s all so familiar,

I don’t know why I go there again,

But somehow nothing’s ever clear,

The roads are wet, the air damp,

And intense darkness clogs my brain,

Yet sometimes I come down and visit this lane,

With its surroundings ever so mundane.

 It holds me when I feel deep and distant,

And drowns me when I’m hardly looking,

Hours later when I resurface,

It’s where I go back to for solace,

Looking back I realize that this lane,

With its streets ever so mundane,

Might be a dark corner in my head,

With broken dreams which has been fed.