I wish I could make things like they used to be.
I loved the way you used to call me.
Wake me from my sleep.
Save me from the anguish which I weep.

I miss when your embrace was tight,
suffocating the pain I felt to leave you from my sight.
But now your hugs are faint,
it makes me feel you holding back with restraint.

I escaped with you,
without you ever knowing.
I thought you were there with me,
but I was right next to myself,
reaping without sowing.

I can't give you what you want,
and I can't see what you need.
But I wish I could,
I wish so badly I could sow that seed.
Build with you, a place with laughter and smile.
A place I used to feel as a child.

But I'm wishing....
Wishing never got me anywhere.
Wishing will never make you care.
but I love you still,
and I always will.
It's a feeling I cannot kill.

pain in vein

bittersweet.
every time.
every bite, tastes sweet and ends bitter.
i thirst for more, even knowing the bitter end.
a fool i am

[lovingly overlooked]

Often my emotions get mistaken for weakness,
but further from truth this could not be.
The capacity for weakness has never had a home here
life has been to wretched for me
to unforgiving for the meek.
and thus it has made me skeptic of love.

A horrible lover.
I have never been the one to express it well.
And every time I pursue my passion for life.
My loves wither and my heart is strained.
I second guess,
because of my second breath

my breath for love
so muffled,
so tainted
so unsure of itself.
so cynical.
yet so empowered
by the dam that holds it back

I'll never have it all.
But all will have at me.
My smile will slowly wilt as I lift to my heavens.
as the pain of unwantedness strips at the strings of my heart.
Desired only by serpents disguised as sunflowers.
Alluring me with illusions of forwarded kindness,
poisoning me more with vicious unseen venom.
False lovers they are.
Yet my footsteps never fail to slip in desperation.
It is only a matter of time before I accept the fangs once more.

Of all things, why must I be deprived of the true strength of man.
cursed since birth.
spoon-fed hatred,
and taught the ways of mistrust.
Finding honor among thieves of souls.
Taught to hide my loves,
so no one could get to them.
Protecting them in silence.
And yet, I question even my loves.

My brother I cannot see.
My mother fears to even speak to me.
And a love I wish to be for me, was made for another.
I wish so bad to mend the hearts of my loves,
and yet I can't even stop the bleeding of mine.

I'll do like I always do.
I'll put on my thick hide.
I will cover the red crimson the seeps from my bosom
with a cloth of smile and laughter.
And I will try my hardest to be unselfish.
Not because its the right thing to do.
Just because its what I'm used to.

The injured coyote must again
walk through the bite of winter's night.
Being strong enough to survive has never been the issue.
Wanting to survive, always has.

The Forest

There's a place I go where no one else can go.
A place I and only I can be.
A place I want others to come with me to.
But either they don't care to come,
or they don't know the way.
A place I can't escape,
my feet are like roots in the ground.
for this reason I don't want to leave either,
its the only place I am truly connected to.

The Forest is a secret,
only the lost seem to find themselves here.
But finding ourselves was never the problem,
finding others always has been.
No one wants to be rooted here alone,
but that's the only way you connect to it.
No one walks into the forest as if journeying there.
You run into the forest,
because somehow in your fleeing,
you lose your way.

The Forest is formed of trees, your forgotten hopes.
Creatures who lost their tongues for speaking,
they have not spoken to another who could understand them in ages.
It is always perpetual night.
There is an unaffectionate chill here,
you only feel it when you ask not to.
And the rain...
everything here fears the rain.
It falls like sleet;
It melts away the old trees like acid.
It cuts through your hide made of scars and wisdom.
makes you shiver like a child again.
It peels away what's left of any tattered clothes.
You are naked here, always.
The Forest is unforgiving,
but the forest is who you are inside.
It is the one place you can never escape,
you can never run from.
It's no wonder, no one wants to come with me.

Lone Spirit.

I started running through the night again.

Not a single voice can be heard for miles, not even my own. Only my breath, heavily leading the sound of my feet, stamping against the pavement. They trail behind me, stiffening from the nights before. The cold damp air bites at my face and the wind cuts like burning ice through my gloves, searing my fingertips to the bone. My ears ache and are numb to sound. The watchful eye of a street lamp wips pass me, showing me a path I take alone. My pace increases. I bring no music with me. Only the percussive strain of my body, keeping rhythm, rumbling the declamatory drums of a heart on fire. The wind flutters in syncopation like a butterfly whispering to me. It has been years since I've run through the night. But the feeling is just the same.

It was on the first night since then that I saw the silhouette of a four-legged stray cross my path in the distance. Body of a dog, walk like a coyote. As I ran closer, the beast stopped and stared at me. I glared back, seeing no eyes but I knew that thousand yard stare so well; I could feel its eyes upon me. A face of black fur, back-lit by a street lamp, gave it an eerie glow. As I ran closer, Its breath I could see breaking the air in front of him. He stepped forward a bit, continuing on his path. Then he lowered his head, looking back to the journey ahead, not afraid. He walked passed and away. It was then that I realized, we were the same. It was here, running through the night that I felt more powerful, more at home than anywhere I have ever been. I have never felt so sure of myself, so free from every single pain and worry. Not even the bitter chill of the wind could break my stride. The elements were no match for my resolve. It is a place only for me. A place only I understand. And the only place that truly understands me. I am alone. The way it has always been. The way it should be. The coyote, chasing into the night.

[strength]

Every man who has truly grown from boyhood knows, it is what we do in the face of our own shadow, our weakest moments, that determines our true strength. In the face of shame, we define our true character. I feel I will never be anywhere close to how powerful I want to be until I pull back the curtain on the things I am ashamed of the most. I will speak where I know my heart shames me the most first and my mind will fill in the rest I am sure:

I am ashamed that I did not stop my father's hand to save my brother in his anguish.
I am ashamed of my mother's ignorance, prejudice and cowardice towards what she does not understand.
I am ashamed that I was never able to mend the break between me and my mother.
I am ashamed that my passion is sparked by the flame of my discontent.
I am ashamed of where I come from, a place of so many small minds.
I am ashamed that in the history of all the women I've dated, I was not loved and I am discouraged to the point that I feel I want to ultimately give up.
I am ashamed that I was neglected as a child and still overlooked as an adult.
I am ashamed that my father could never say he loved me, and that I only knew from words on paper found after his death.
I am ashamed that I still hold my tongue to say those words as well.
I am ashamed that if it were not for a friend I would not have heard those words said to me in years.
I am ashamed I did not directly save a life from its own demise, when I was easily able.

I am still haunted by my shame even when now I feel so physically strong, so mentally steadfast, and emotionally it is hard for anyone to move me away from happiness. My shame no longer hurts me, but like a scar, it reminds me of who I really am.

Walking on the Thread of Life

It hurts to know my place on the stage of life. It's painful to know my own destiny is like a thread. And devastating to know myself. Can I truly walk the thread? I don't know, it's my first time trying. But it is up to me to consciously make the decision to step outside who I am in the present, so that I have the ability to be who I want to be in the future. I have to walk on the thread and test my fate. At least that's what I keep telling myself. Risk will always tend to feel like I can't survive it. And time will always seem to be against me. As if the floor from which I stepped upon before will not exist anymore. Onto the thread I must go, I have no other path before me. And that's true. There is no such thing as a the perfect moment to do anything. In many ways, life seems like an oracle. It will be the way it should be. I am just worried about what it "should be", and whether that is what I want it to be.

I have to stop believing that because of where and what I come from, I have no shot at fulfilling my dreams. I have to believe that my belly full of butterflies can still make the right judgments. I have to learn to trust myself again. And I really need to figure out why I stopped trusting myself to begin with.

Well I know why.... I have to get passed this. My gut is not good at one thing. But it's the one thing that drives me forward so much.

I need to be able to trust my heart again.

It's an endless loop in time that I am lost within.