Twisted tree of grey dark mist,
climbing high to never resist,
claw in deep of the breakable wood,
as high as possible four legged stood,
settling to rest on the branch out far,
alone in the darkness knowing where others are,
the wind blows hard against the side of the tree,
as the branch snaps and falls the same as me.

how i need strength and motivation,
how do i get it from the inspiration,
buried inside from constant steered thought,
using the tools i was constantly taught,
but when the inner mind needs peace to drive,
the outer speaks to the inner to survive,
but the inner sleeps to assist the outer to hold control,
the outer is lonely and the only soul,
nothing but echoes of voices as the inner remains asleep,
as nothing can wake it because it is too deep,
so the outer reaches claws in to wake it at last,
but the inner cannot survive from the outer moving past,
now the outer becomes the inner and a new outer begins,
the old inner is gone and this caused the circles in spins,
dizziness clouds the mind of all thought that was to be,
as now i must teach the new outer all about me.

vanished from my sight for so long,
makes me think i did something wrong,
but returning from the darkness into the light,
forgetting the why gone to eyes shine bright,
fingers gripping over the edges release the strain,
embracing in a hug to forget the pain,
lightning bursts all around through the sky,
closing the eyes tight pressing out a cry,
a breath of relieving air intakes into each lung,
standing back and looking for what you have brung.

Into the bright morning sun i woke,
nudged back to life with a nagging poke,
then greeted with a loud sarcastic kiss,
annoying now but if gone i would miss,
rolls of eyes at the silly things i do,
but acting silly only happens in front of you,
synchronized levels of all we like the same,
i think love is the feeling but what we have has no name.

I buried them deeply down inside,
am i a destroyer because i cannot decide,
my veins continue to bleed but never escape the blood,
as a constant line of thoughts begin to flood,
a stream of stinging sounds passes by,
as splinters of glass spikes hit me in the eye,
screaming echoes frustrate even the most hard,
even when the legs escape me across the yard,
both wrists with tattoos of death block my ears,
as eyes shut sink me down to hide from those fears,
this place is my savior of sanity to keep a clear head,
but why must i be this way until they come to make me dead.

flicking the stick with a red rough scratch,
the darkness ignited from the lighting match,
focus of vision into the place surround,
and see the symbols of dirt on the ground,
revealing the writing in drawings i understand,
running over it with my other hand,
the match goes out with darkness's return,
to light up another and let it slowly burn,
reading the remaining lyrics of a song i already know,
the sounds in the silence i hear them flow.

sleeves cover the hands to hide the strain,
as the hood covers the face to hide the pain,
hair drapes over the chest to hide the breath,
as the view of the shadow hides the quick death,
open mouths covered to hide the shock,
as blood runs down the drain hid from the chopping block,
the body taken away to hide the lifeless deeds,
as the head is displayed in full view of the neck it bleeds.

i called this poem "Hot chick" which would make sense when you read it.
but it was one i put on poetry.com and people voted it bad and one said it was psychotic and disturbing.
its a bird, a chicken in fact. i was just explaining it as it really is. and it makes me hungry.

her fortune is told after reading the lines,
her death is coming in its designs,
even after death her body is maimed,
even when she is never named,
they cut off her head and feet,
they continue ripping at the meat,
from the rear her guts are ripped through,
from the oven now she is on the table for you.

the brain surgeon thought of an orchestral song,
to keep his mind at ease so he doesn't get it wrong,
reaching out his hand to get another tool from the nurse,
while it is passed a rupture happens as he sees it get worse,
the nurse keeps herself calm by thinking of heavy metal all day,
correcting the problem and stabilizing the patient ok,
the bleeding stops as students watched with ipods in hand,
listening to their lectures and some to their favorite band,
the surgeon finishes leaning back against the outer wall,
as the patients mind didn't think of anything at all.

The words are written without a pad and pen,
the story is told of some ancient dragons and men,
a love story in poetry written from a once undiscovered part,
then overflowing into short story poems felt from the heart,
creativity has no limits when you make everything up,
as people see their life as the almost empty cup,
top it back up and put some party juice with a pour,
no limits are reached when you can do so much more,
the holes some dig are deep and cold in the dark,
when its just in your mind so ignite it with a spark,
explode from the deep depressive hole and get out,
then scream at the top of your voice the greatest shout,
people do not know what they are capable of until it is in need,
i hope to inspire those but first you must have a read.