Sometimes, I wish
That my pen and I could release
Every hate and verse and tear this bitter soul
Could outpour;
Empty mine eyes of sweet fear and sadness
And absolve my sins in ink;-
Scrawl out my hypocrisies and shortcomings
And sputter the failing light of my heart
To read their sorrowed prose.
To have rain trace rivulets through my emotion;
Run through the filth and make mine innocence pure
As the snow that chills my crippled heart.
To have wine trickle down my twisted throat
That somehow still manages to say the right words,
And translate its subtle script to mine;-
But lately I've been so speechless
And dustmotes haunt my elegance;
I rasp and deny my suicide of words
And yet they leave me dry...

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