Death does not become me whilst you tell me of your troubles
And I want nothing more than to pass that pacification onto you
Yet I interject with anecdotal historic battles
And barren attempts at succor while I misuse
My conviction, your confidence in me dwindles
And my intention fails to break through

Hoping to save our collective sanity
Compelled to contradict our comparable sorrow
I don’t say these things to serve my vanity
I say these things to let you know that I know

Passivity Ego

Broken in second-hand silence
Passing obligation with idleness
Your role became manifest
Your dark infantile conscience

Buried me in hesitant remorse
Before my own crashing course
Collapsed my own self-made concourse
And left me with naught but self discourse

I thought you knew my hollow
I thought you felt the echo
Of silence, when really your hallowed
Passivity became your ego

The vacuous misery I became
When too young to remember the flame
That was scorching whatever joyful acclaim
I could never have overcame

What gave my hollow its first substance
Yet I rebelled against its abhorrence
And sought for some analogous significance
That I mistakenly thought might be our resonance

I thought you knew my hollow
I thought you felt the echo
Of our silence, when really your hallowed
Passivity became your ego


I don’t want to die
But this void won’t be denied
The cavernous plan I occupy
Is not the make-believe chamber from which I once revived

Your begotten heart I once glimpsed within my own void has become a token to feed my insomnia

I never wanted to love you
But my desire was never controlled through
My own logical taboos
I know not how to silence the emotional resonance I construe

Your silence becomes another token to feed my insomnia

I no longer know how to beckon your conversations
I no longer can push away the emanations
That only push you further away from me, my calculations
Yield nonsensical results from whatever castigation

I bury within my soul
And thus I admire all these tokens you’ve built to feed my insomnia

As I long for sleep but it will not come

I Walk Through This Forest

I walk through this forest with solemn fascination
Oak and ash and maple deluge all senses
Root and leaf and scurrying things give way before my strides
I perceive this ancient soul and I am home

But I sense another presence
Just beyond the boughs
Beckoning my heed
And I strain to see

I walk through this forest and I gaze into the stars
The boughs break and give way to them
And I cannot look away
They guide my steps and I do not falter

I am mesmerized
I no longer feel home
The flames of desire ignite beneath my feet
And I burst forth

I run through this forest with reckless abandon
Yearning to see more of the celestial lights
They dance above the trees and urge the trees to part
And the trees consent so that I may bathe in heavenly glory

And I feel whole
Home is just within reach
But suddenly they vanish
And my legs waver

I stumble through this forest disoriented and weary
I cry out to them, the stars, my new home
My home I glimpsed but for a moment
Teardrops of desperation cloud my vision

And it begins to rain
The tears turn to sadness
They stream down to my lips
And I taste them; they are somehow quenching

I sit in this forest and drink of my tears
I take them into the void the stars created within my core
The void they refused to fill
But I find that my tears no longer have salt

The trees have departed
The long grass has taken their place
It seems I should move
Though I have not the strength to stand

I crawl through this grassland aimlessly adrift
The rain turns to storm
The storm turns to tempest
And I have no more tears from which to drink