Youth escapes me, carried by the winds of time to be eroded. Shaping the rock and forming the stone walls of a castle, protecting my heart. Blitzkreeg, straight to the roots, felling the tree she stands on her own and walks away. For life has always escaped me at a full sprint, Heart pounding against my breast trying to get out, get out, get out! You aren't wanted here among the thorns and all my bullshit that I use to fertilize my fields and hope my tree returns. But once again hope fails me, or does it. Can hope escape from steel hands and Styrofoam arms, Detached at the shoulders and floating by my side. Can't be. Has to be a puppet master for I am just a marionette. Do a little dance. Crowd applauds. Pause for laughter... Six fifty given away to pay the bills by strange beings, in black ties that don't recognize that their life cut the ties that make homosapien beat his chest on perfect beat. Hit. Hit. Hit. For I am man, lying on the floor weeping. waining. Wilting. because my flowers don't beg for water that may or may not fall from the sky, or of the canteen of a fallen soldier. Did you hear about the one who died violently? He was shot in the back of the head to force what they say is though provoking knowledge through my mouth, where so many vulgarities have been spewed, expeled, vomited like a boy on the girl he loves. Given heart shape candies, balloons and a kiss, A happily ever after. No. Can't be. Has to be a trick. Have to find the joker in the hand that I've been delt. Somewhere among all these shapes and color. But this isn't mine. This can't be mine where so many lessons have been realized. Because hatred has been placed in these eyes, held between my pinky and forefinger, pinky up. Cause if this makes me fall well at least I'll fall with some class, some style, god forbid some repoire. Stick the landing but no one notices that I broke every bone in my legs. A perfect score. Face on a Wheaties box. Pour a bowl for your daughter and hope no one sees the bruises. Deep blues and purples mark where your anger burn her skin. Anger. Anger that's embraced me. A burning lava scorching my soul and casting my heart in stone; that I hammer to gravel and build a road to the bridges that I have burned. Pick up the charred remains of hurt feelings and broken fingernails from just holding on too damn tightly. So come, If yours match mine, lets make a new home. A place of compassion where those brave enough to feel this are embraced in arms of unconditional understanding. For you are my brother. For you are my sister. For you are my closet transexual with a heart of gold. And at least you don't run away. Cause you know that only together we are love. Only together we are love.

These mountains are the prison that have kept the lid on me from the promises of my hear and the truth that has set me free. Within in my salvation just waiting to be found. my eyes fixed on forward but the answers are on the ground. Soon I will escape from the prisons and the lids and soar to the heavens of my self made promises. Cause within this body of armor is a boy, beaten, burned tortured and abuses. With nothing but fear and love in his heart.