Excerpt from beneath my skin

Here\'s a poem
written by the hands of my heart
a bleak, numb beat
inside a fragile palm

Lines so cold
from the wintry truth
of my own frozen lies
cutting through another hallucination
to reveal a pregnant pause,
so inwardly one ear will turn

and consciously absorb the subconscious

but I\'m afraid honesty
might choke on itself
before melting into a meaning
that defines

me
(or someone worth listening to)

Sometimes I think the whole world
has lost it\'s heart
and there\'s nothing left
but solitude and desperation
wishing on a blackened sky

With frosty eyes
verity searches for kindness,
but Dr. Martin Luther King is gone
and our modern day boys
pretend to be poets
cause Johnny Depp played Wilmot on tv

I must confess,
men are starting to annoy my dreams

but this pale heart
the foolish vessel that it is,
aches for a man
to unthaw it\'s icy pulse
so love can smother this sad, sad, poem