New Year's Resolution

wishing you were just a picture on the wall
wishing you were an image and nothing more
wishing two digits could replace you
wishing my wishes could escape you
i am in a world of wishes now
i am destroying myself now
i am sinking into darkness now
i am waiting for the light now
and the ball will drop
and the curtain will rise
and the people wont see
and i will come back
watch the fuck out

Thunderbolts

These happenings do not warn you
You have no idea they are coming
Until your shoes are melted rubber
And your hair is standing on end
A poem of a series
A message sent at dawn
A glance without fire
No warning, just a pit
With every lightning strike
It yawns wider
Despair calls and beckons
Sweetly, it promises salvation
All it requires is surrender
But I have been fighting it so long
I have forgotten how to do otherwise
I know this is the best way
But i feel tired sometimes
So tired
Sometimes I wonder, if I knew how,
Would I walk into the abyss?

Soon after...

I want to post something. To comment on the beauty of her words.
But nothing comes to mind. Or rather, everything does.
I want to tell her I love her. I want to tell her how beautiful she is.
How charming how lovely how perfect. How I can hear her cadence as I read.
That I feel her breath on my neck as she speaks the words she wrote.
I want to tell her so many things, for which no words are adequate.
So I don't. I read every scrap of foolscap that she drops.
I swallow paragraphs whole like a starving man with a bits of bread.
I savor every instant, but she never knows my response.
Because the words to describe it, they simply don't exist.
So I stay silent and, when the muse strikes me, I wax dramatic.
But a hopeful thought fills me, as to her equal lack of response.
Perhaps she is stricken by the same inability,
To properly react verbally. Perhaps it is lack of time.
Or perhaps she shares my illness.
Either way the response is unnecessary
because we both know, who the words are for.

Who Else?

Every line of every song, a symbol of a world unto itself
Her indelible fingerprint on music, places, lives
No words can encompass my gratitude
At her existence in my life
But the wound is still too fresh
From her burrowing into my heart
Crimson splatters if i test its strength
So I will wait, knowing she lives inside me
Until it hurts just enough
to write again.