Maybe on the outside
it appears I am smiling...
youd never look at me
on the street as I passed you
with my fake smile
my big brown eyes looking directly
Into


YOURS

and think
that inside
my
soul

~S~C~R~E~A~M~S~


Im a writer
Im a photographer
Im an artist

when I choose to be

sometimes
I wish I could write my own life
take a picture of my death
and paint a portrait of both

yeah....


BIOShackeled to the wall of the dungeon
she awaited her torture
with only her arms to support her weight
the bone seperates from socket
and dislocates
leaving her dangling there
with muscle and ligament
straining and pulling
against gravity

Her tormentor
places her dreams on the table
before her, polished and shined
so it glows brighter
looking even more lovely
than she ever imagined
the images of holding her dreams
in her hands
reaching out and touching it
are crushed
for every time she tries to reach out
she is reminded with excruciating pain
that she is chained to the wall

that isnt enough for her captor

a metal stake is slowly pounded
into her skull....
carefully
strategically placed
severing
so as not to kill her
but to penetrate
seperating the two
directly down the middle

she will remain alive
with her head
in place
so that she can not turn from her dream
so that she cant look away
so that even though
her dream is out of reach
she cant touch it
or hold it in her hands
it is forever in her site

every time she opens her eyes
she will see it
right in front of her
where she cant touch it
or hold hit
~~~out of reach

and that kind of pain
is torture
beyond compare

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Im me.
Not you
Not who you want me to be
Im who I am
and
I
wish
I
wasnt