Sometimes I think I live on the dark side of paradise.

Living under the setting sun without shelter.

Pushing sin through my veins without remorse or covatry.

Subliminal candle flames and a mind-altering soliloquy.

Paying for the ticket to the show with my poetry and a pound of flesh.

So I pay a heavy price....don't you?

Love is a place I go when my sweat has run dry.

I never worked harder than when I lay my head back and tried to catch the silence in the shadow.

No man can catch the last note in their favorite song.

You just gotta let her go.

Like chasing the last drop of winter snow when summer is high.

All the things you hid away under the ice are coming back around.

Nothing lost was ever really found.

Let her go.

Poet ...let her go.

.....

In the shadow grows the thorn.

In the darkness of silence, love is torn.

What does a man say when the ragged cry is; "I am become the bitter loss."

Is the doom we live to be the eternal mortal flesh?

Is the doom we die.....oblivion.

This whisper is the price of life.

It is one word.

All that lives and all that die are a page in the book.

It is called the book of... why.

And know you will find no answers there.

It is only the kindling for heathens.

My friends and lover's bind your wounds.

Do not trace the path of shadow for there are only thorns to find on that silent way.