I want to feel you, But you’re not here. I want to be with you,
But you’re not here, Anymore. Today,
It seemed like a dream, But it was so real, So it seemed. No no, I know You were there And so was I. We were together Again. And you, HAH! You looked at me And for once
You didn’t look awkwardly. And I told you a story, Random at best, About… Ehm… “man breast.” It made you laugh, Or at least smile. Oh, that smile Made life worth while. A smile I&#
I see that you’ve noticed my hands.
Yes, the cracks there, they bleed And sometimes they hurt quite badly, But don’t pay any attention to that…
The rash? Yes, it burns and itches, But give it time, it will go away. I know it looks like hives, but I assure you It’s not a problem.
Those? Scars. When I was little, I, ah,
Scratched my ankles until the blood stained my socks
And the sores rubbed raw by my shoes Still itched And I scratched them. But they healed, eventually.
And I went in once a week or so Sinc
Ode to a Mass Grave
They lie within thee, Thou deep, dark, and cavernous pit. Thou hast opened thy mouth and swallowed them whole. Down, down they did dive, Down into the deepest recesses of blackness within thee. And there they lie, Doomed to an unending slumber in thine eternal snow.
The darkness within thee, O grave, Is as black and chilling as the hearts of those who sent them to
thee— The Dark Saints, the Innocent Murderers. Though they know it not, they can never be thine equals, They are but tools in thy cold, sinister hand— &nb
