those that dwell in webs

bothersome pests lurk,
in the attic of my mind.
on my self control and sanity,
they have indulgently dined.

originating from a web,
designed by no one i know.
they uproot the embedded,
and make the unseen show.

doubts, fears, uncertainties,
a wish for -THE- trade.
trying to burn down the house,
that last year my heart made.

clink the chains together
pound your fists mid-air
wield the bats and clubs
atop black, metal harleys.

secure your bandannas
tighten your skull apparel
lace up your dark boots
and slap your chest tattoo.

rub your bald head
stroke your goatee
stare up at the sky
and laugh.

it truly is a dark and confusing place,
sometimes i get lost there,
not knowing where to turn,
and contemplating ending the journey.

a few glimmers of hope shine,
but the overwhelming darkness
engulfs them, swallows them,
so nothing but it is left.

am i able to be the conqueror,
and wield my strength over its reign?
or will i fall, deeper in the darkness,
towards a path that some call destiny?

the silence bit at him
like the jaws of a beast,
closing down on his heart,
that painfully throbs for company.

never like the others -
who fell in love together,
and smiled and laughed,
never staring down seclusion.

it had mostly been his fault,
and that ironic blame
magnified his tortuous guilt
over a thousandfold.

the playgrounds are gone,
he scorns the love of his family,
hoping with more than his soul
he could have the touch of a different breed.

many sunrises from now,
when generations of trees have fallen,
only to be replaced by their kin,
i will be old, and dying.

i will sit in a recliner,
next to an old-fashioned lamp
that still uses old-fashioned bulbs,
and read ancient books.

these books, approaching 70,
are showing their age as much as me.
and yet, when i open the cover
a plethora of brain synapses connect.

what was i, a little over 13?
when i first read these books...
and became enchanted by their magic,
thrust in to a world all my own.

now, on the brink of death,
just like so many of its characters,
i take a small moment to relish,
the world i had created in my mind.

this is what it means to die,
to sit in a recliner,
and read books from our youth,
aching to return to that fantasy, once more.

it built up in my chest,
like the snowball in the freezer
my brother kept going
winter after winter.

something was about to give,
like the shaking legs
of a weight lifter
right before they cave.

the passing time is torture,
like an illegal immigrant,
waiting to be caught
and shipped across the border.

sticks and stones
may break my bones
but you -
make me want to die.

tonight we dine on the flesh
of the bastard sons
of the devil incarnates
that roam the land
and plague us with normalcy,
with mediocrity,
with content.

at the darkest hour
of the deepest night
we tear out their bones
and make them instruments,
to be played as a warning to all:
do not enter this place,
if risk is something you fear.

murder them all, in cold blood,
without a chance to fight back,
preferably with their backs turned,
so they never see it coming,
and never had a single moment,
to pray to whatever God,
for a second chance.

[this space is where a poem entitled 'i bet i could write some damn good poetry if i got high' was suppose to go, but i axed it after a stanza because i felt it was a bit ridiculous. so upon further thought, i figured it would be even more ludicrous to write a stand-in explanation as to why the poem will not be appearing, despite the fact that my ignorant audience would have been none the wiser. it's late and i'm thinking strange things. shut up]

focus on the cup,
notice its shape,
texture, clearness,
and uniformity.

the liquid inside is
rich, fuzzing,
filled with aroma,
and begging to be consumed.

they both sit there,
in perfect harmony,
liquid contained by cup,
cup contained by atoms.

the universe halts,
for this perfect match,
until something comes along,
and turns it all upside down.

raw

poetry is a dangerous thing,
where thoughts of the mind
and emotions of the heart
can become murky and muddled.

but please, do not assume
to know what comes from my mind.
at times it confuses even me,
and other times i regret it.

i do not delete thoughts i regret,
thoughts that many of us repress
and say "that's silly," and move on
like it never happened.

no - instead of hiding them for eternity,
i display them here - for you,
for anyone, to peruse at their leisure,
inside of my mind, inside of my heart.

things you keep locked up inside
and wouldn't dare share with others,
are here for your pleasure,
but devour them at your own risk.

Every morning she would send me an e-mail with something sweet and kind to say. I started every day of my life like that for five long years. One day, when I received no e-mail, I knew she was gone forever. I didn't stop to think she was ill, or forgot - I knew she never would, and even if she was near death she would find a way to send me one. I never knew she was terminally ill until after she died - a fact that she hid from me for my sake. It made her death sudden, abrupt, shocking, and heart-wrenching. There are so many things I wanted to share with her, so many things I should have told her - how great of a person she is, always giving to others, always loving her family. I wanted to tell her how I felt, but never got the courage. There is a permanent stain on my heart where she will reside forever, even if I move on and find another love. She is my constant reminder that no matter who we end up with in this world, that we should take advantage of our time with them.

---

I am uncertain whether you are in heaven now or capable to reading this, but if you are then know that I always wished you the greatest of happiness.

in my world i'd ban television and movies and magazines and all sorts of pop culture that stain our society and teach guys they need to work out to look attractive and girls they need to be skinny to be loved. i'd get rid of it all, so people start seeing each other eye to eye and in a genuine way instead of what kind of clothes they wear. people wouldn't care about celebrities' lives because they would be more concerned with their own. shows like jerry springer and reality tv wouldn't exist to make us feel better about ourselves because that is a job that each and every one of us can do already.

people would fall in love and stay that way, because there wouldn't be all these images of beautiful people showing us a false reality we know we'll never have, but dream for nonetheless. my world would be stripped of such ridiculous expectations put on real people by actors on shows that are scripted. plastic surgery would be outlawed after society realizes it is unnecessary. if you need to change the way you look to be happy, then you haven't found true happiness, or someone special to love you. when you do find that person, they will open your eyes and allow you to see the real you - the one you've been missing out on.

don't live up to anyone's expectations other than your own. don't change the way you look or act for anybody else. be who you are - and if the people you care about most don't respect that, then it is time to move on in life and acquire some new company. your family will always support you, even if it is not evident. it is heartbreaking when someone you love doesn't like the way you are, but you -must not- change to accommodate them. this is prolonging an inevitable separation caused by your "act" struggling against your will to be your natural self.

live life, be yourself, and stay happy - at whatever cost it comes.

the night that i died

flying down the road
way over the speed limit,
i'm nervous when i get like this,
so i never pause to stop
or think, or react,
and i start to sweat,
and i can't separate
reality from fiction,
so i just keep going,
way too fast,
trying to get to you faster,
even though i'll never get there,
for i crash halfway home
and my car spins in elegance,
doing three barrel rolls,
spelling out 'i love you'.