The Places You Died Are the Places You Lived the Most

**This poem is a composite of some 2006 rant-writings, so if it sounds familiar that's why**

I am more than the composite of everything you know.
I am a dead weight of immobile fear lodged in my belly.
I am giving birth to a nameless fear I know all to well.

My heart is heavy.

Will you hear the artificial
In my voice when I create
A Truth from my lies?

Only for you.
I lie so well only for you.

I will sing!
I will sing and I will whisper
Until only the raw rasp of breath is left in my lungs.
(You like me to breathe)

Salty sweet surrender is a keepsake
In my heart and in my lungs.
My voice screams but I cannot
Quiet it with whispers, though I try.
I try.

My head aches with words unsaid,
With life trying to escape the veins.

No escapes, not this time.
No spiderweb kisses of a former blade.
But the scars, so soft, are evidence
Only I can see.

The devil's in the details,
The god is in the rain.

Emptiness is nothingness
Nothingness is everything
And everything is god.

I want to shed this skin
Find a new person underneath, one empty of god,
So that I don't have to feel the pain
Of nothingness anymore.

It is Friday.
Rejoice in the good news of the Lord
Because the bad will call its time
So rejoice in the days, the hours of contentment.
Pray for rain.

Pray for that slow liquid pull to the ground
Pray for a day in the dark,
For forever and the blink of an eye.

I need you to understand
It isn't about dying, but about living.

You will read the words of my pen
As though they came from your mouth
And the sounds you make will sing
And you will understand.

Can you handle this much hurt?
Can you deal with this much damage?

If I am a poet,
I'm a double-edged sword
And you are at the tip of my blade

If it hurts enough to bleed
It hurts enough to taunt you with it

Because the places you die,
They're the places you live the most.