Red

There is a red man running

wild. He hides his horns

under different hats. He

can look like you or me.

He wraps his pointy tale

around his waist. He wears

a smiling face and waits until

we turn around before stabbing

us in the back. He is always

on the attack. The red man feeds

off innocence. He will try to make

a deal with you and take

your soul. The devil is in the details.

Some sign, in blood, without fail.

Show up to the meeting and kill

him with kindness. Illuminate

the darkness. He will ask you

to dance. Not a damn chance.

The red man lives inside all

of us, but it is up to us to trust

him or not. Now ask yourself:

Do I evict him or let him stay?

It’s Cold Outside

Damn, it’s cold.
Icy as hell.
Well, Icy as
the North Pole.
Brrr. It’s cold
outside. I feel
my bones ache
with each step.
My nose turns
red. My head
will freeze
as it hits
a chilly breeze.
Shivers erupt
as I shake
the hot chocolate
inside the
foam cup
I’m holding.
Damn, it’s cold
outside. A good
time to stay
inside. I’ll stay
near a fire-
place with
a lit-up face.
It’s where I
need to be.
It’s warmth
I desire.

Depleted

For why must you need me to work at all?

Hiding in fear that you might not be used

Now I’m away, insisting that you call

Outside I’m fine, but my heart is now bruised

Someone else played you with the slightest care

Your soul is damaged because of abuse

From being complete to having no air

The machine is broken, bolts are now loose

I try to turn you on, but I can not

You glowed green before the years of torment

Your system was left on for now it’s shot

Safe to say that our time was very well spent

Now you’re dead with the circle in your eyes red

I send you away for my Xbox is dead

Scars

Blood runs blue from the outside

Until curiosity builds too strong

What courses thru us takes human shape

Once a wound can be examined

A story is told of how it opened

Bravery takes a hand and moves it to feel a scar

But hope keeps one finding out more

As a finger’s path exposes each pink bump

Inconsistently weaved in one’s skin,

A story is told of how it opened.

A finger reached smooth skin

But hated how flat it felt.