like finding an old picture of yourself in a dusty shoe box, i found a couple old poems on my page at

the day i died i cried a sound
a sound to wake a thousand drowned

eyes are useless in absence of light
darkness envelops silence of fright

creeping soundless through rivers and lakes
death comes quickly, dulling all aches

a story unread, and no more to follow
life is lost, the body is hollow

the world in all its busy work
could not see me slowly fall

people caught in stupid games
could not see the pain at all

every day i live is another day i die

love has stolen my breath
slow as poison in its delivery

pain has torn our night
as sweetness wrapped in misery

she set my heart ablaze
her eyes deep as oceans heart

this torch i bore now burns my soul
our lives are now worlds apart

deep is the scar displaying my affliction
yet gone is the time to share our affection

my heart forever bears the weight of separation
but my mind knows it was the only honorable decision

precious murderer of us all
it flies transparent through our lives
as nervous men run out of it
strangers ask you for it
friends complain of not having it
boys secretly wish their fathers had more for them
old widows’ eyes cry, wishing their husbands had more
elegant stories unwind in fields of space, love, and warmth
while other fables remain lifeless and cold from early abortion
and in its feeble, eternal truth
all of life is just a matter of