The Nothing I've Become

How can you see into my eyes like open doors?
Leading you down into my core where I've become so numb
Without a soul my spirit's sleeping somewhere cold
Until you find it there and lead it back home

(Wake me up)
Wake me up inside
(I can't wake up)
Wake me up inside
(Save me)
Call my name and save me from the dark
(Wake me up)
Bid my blood to run
(I can't wake up)
Before I come undone
(Save me)
Save me from the nothing I've become

Now that I know what I'm without
You can't just leave me
Breathe into me and make me real
Bring me to life

(Wake me up)
Wake me up inside
(I can't wake up)
Wake me up inside
(Save me)
Call my name and save me from the dark
(Wake me up)
Bid my blood to run
(I can't wake up)
Before I come undone
(Save me)
Save me from the nothing I've become

Bring me to life
(I've been living a lie, there's nothing inside)
Bring me to life

Frozen inside without your touch
Without your love, darling
Only you are the life among the dead

All this time I can't believe I couldn't see
Kept in the dark but you were there in front of me
I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems
Got to open my eyes to everything
Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul
Don't let me die here
There must be something more
Bring me to life

(Wake me up)
Wake me up inside
(I can't wake up)
Wake me up inside
(Save me)
Call my name and save me from the dark
(Wake me up)
Bid my blood to run
(I can't wake up)
Before I come undone
(Save me)
Save me from the nothing I've become

Bring me to life
(I've been living a lie, there's nothing inside)

Would You?

If I disappeared, would you come look for me?

Home

In the place beyond the river lies a thick wood,

where beams of sun crisscross the darkness,

and towering trees for eternity have stood.

The untraveled road, yet familiar, harkens.

A stream winds through, and leads to a waterfall,

behind which is a passageway,

and following it you hear, 

voices cherished,

and emerging in the clear,

you know that you have perished,

for before you they all gather,

in the place that was once and forever shall be yours,

for you are but of them, as they are of you,

and though we are sent out for a time to roam,

to them we always return,

for they, and it, are home.

Written for me by Kevin Lenihan

Into the Grey

Not black or white...caught in a tunnel of fog..burnt out...burning...sleepless
turning...yearning for a way out...I slip into the grey.

A Different Library

A different library. Feels familiar, yet not the same.

I haunt the stacks looking for something to capture me.

Poe? Hemingway? Dickens? Each one tempts. For each one,

I reach out to take off the shelf, but something changes my mind.

Perhaps something more modern? A good ghost story?

So many choices in the stacks! 

A woman moves slowly through, scanning the authors. She doesn't see me.

I flatten myself to make room for her to pass.

No excuse me. No acknowledgement. Like she didn't even see me.

Nothing new.

I drift into the modern fiction. King, Koontz, Cronin. I could spend all day here!

I pass a book by Koontz. Dark River of the Heart. 

About to pull this from the shelf...but then I recall the story. A man

drawn to a mysterious pub with a red door. I must have read it before.

Details leak into my mind. Love and betrayal and a terrorist conspiracy.

A ripping yarn!

So many choices. I must get a coffee first.

Out onto the street. I pass young couples and mothers with children and students out early from school. A mailman, a bag lady, Japanese tourists.

None notice me, but that's the way these days isn't it?

When the traffic clears I cross the street to the Starbucks. Just like my Starbucks!

A modest line. Business ladies in nylons and sneakers, hipster dudes with kindles, a father with two toddlers. I wait with them. Silently, of course.

The rich smells of coffees perk me up. the pastries look delicious! Long time since I had a pastry.

My turn finally arrives at the register. By now I'm suspicious. 

Not so unusual to be invisible in the world. Been long used to it.

But this has been different. I'm not going home. Never going home.

This is now home.

Not such a bad home. So many adventures in the library. I can haunt it for lifetimes.

At the front of the line. I try to order. They don't seem to hear.

Louder I try, to no avail. I am unseen, which I am used to.

But no more coffee. Ever again. That stinks.

NOT BY ME BUT GREAT WORDS :) 

No Where But Here

I need a knife

I'd rather slice

My wrists than enter that Cult-like sweat lodge

I try but he won't let me dodge

Stuck on a pew under a steeple

With demons and people

All like paper doll cut outs

With plastic smiles 

And all the while

They snicker and boast

Eat their food, they toast

While people starve 

In their own back yard

It's not me! I scream in here

Because I dare not voice my opinion when he's near

So I'm sorry this is more rant than poem

I've ....no where but here. 

Niece of the King

In another life, she was the daughter of the brother of a great king.

The brother who would most likely never inherit the throne.

For the great king was strong and wise.

So the brother fell into drinking alone.

A frequenter of pubs.

And he traveled the realm of fae.

Sampling of all kinds suds.

And collecting all kinds of tales.

Which he became the re-teller of.

His nights were filled with merriment and mirth.

His mornings mostly alone.

His name became Sudskins.

And most forgot he was brother of the great king.

He was much beloved for his laughter

and for the tales he spread like seeds.

The tip of his beard tickled his belly.

Which had grown portly with ale.

And one day he met a woman

From the empire of men.

A woman of beauty and warmth.

A women bewitched by his tales.

And the little girl that followed

after a hot tempered fling

they bequeathed with the name Sudsillory

And she was the niece of the king.

(not by me) but ...As told by my favorite writer in this Universe.