I long for the unchanging, the surety and constant flow of time.
But as the sands trickle, I am confronted by demons without faces.
Each dramatizing characters that render unique individuals.
As I watch their wickedness; a coldness creeps down my spine.
A chill of fear that feels like a cold hand grasping my heart. Squeezing slowly but with growing intensity.
But the fear I feel is not towards these monsters.

I feel a coldness creeping down my spine. I feel it as I realize... I'm smiling!

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His fingers brushed against the keys contemplating the flow.

"Breathe" he reminded himself as she approached. They spoke, but after he remembered only the sound of her voice its context was not recorded. Even as complex as he was, he was unable to watch her; be in her presence and function whole. He had met his end, he just didn't know it yet.

Dear you,
Me,
I love you.

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As children we are so often bombarded by vivid declarations of hope telling us that the world is there for our taking. "You are only limited by the limits you set for yourself". Or so we are told. But as the years pass I have found out that though you may be allowed to set limits for yourself it is in reality society that sets the standard of which we evaluated our limits. How do you know that you are of what standard? We simply absorb the reaction of our actions. As students we evaluate ourselves based on our grades; as writers by the reaction of our readers; as musician we seek the adoration of those who hear us. I have always refused to conform to the structure society has set. But slowly as I have began to use phrases like "those damn kids" & "when I was your age"�. I find that I may have to start evaluating who I am from the perspective of many. Soon the student, the poet, the musician and the child in me will have to perish. I (sigh) may have to get a job!

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You, I wish it was simple you and me.
I wish it was not possible to hurt; but yet I watch you bleed.
Scars on my own hands are many.
But as the old heal I seem to so nonchalantly tear my flesh with my corroded blade of a mind.
I miss you... I do.
So much of me loves you, longs for you, needs you.
But knife in hand; with still fresh blood on dried, I stand.
Bloody knife; blood that is not only mine.

You, do you know what I feel for you.
Why why why do you need to taunt me?
Wasn't that one whipping, as I stood naked on bended knees before you not enough?
Are you really so ignorant or are you drawn to all those who see you as a goddess?
I know not if for you love I feel.
But to you I am drawn as maggots to rotting flesh.
I devour myself, for in you I see so much of who I want to be.

You, soft, gentle, caring; you!
To you I ask; why me?
I have only pain to offer.
Pain even a heart as big as yours cannot hope to vessel.
I only hope that you will be happy.

To you, you, you.
Profound, unsure, complete.
Me, I love you.

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I tire from the weight of my ignorance.
For pretense is indeed a weight to bear.
I play the part of the learned; yet knowledge I have none to share.
I am but a liar, a cheat who fears to be found out.

But alas the play is ending, and reality is full of doubt.
I hear quiet stuttering, my articulate dialogue it replaced.
My hands sweat profusely, my heart begins to race.

It is then I see the coward that resides in me.
He places on his temple a barrel made of steel.
Then thundering resonance... followed by a quiet so serene.

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I am fading!
Fading into emptiness of routine.
My direction is now purposeless.
And each day no different from the one before.
I long for you. Yet I will never have you.
My charade is becoming obvious.
It is becoming obvious to me.
Please do not ask for interpretation.
For I do not understand it myself.
But one thing is clear!
All this I made; I made for you.

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