My soul shivers.
My hands are seared
by the splintered promise
of distant light. 

...move on...

I hear words meant as kindness

...time heals...

Not alsways.

...back on the horse that threw you...

Because dead is better than nearly dead?

It's better to crash and burn
than never to burn at all...

Please...
Lay sympathetic silence on
my altar, light a candle
if you will not curse
the darkness with me.
Between heaven and hell,
in a frozen place,
emptiness fills.
Then strife--
alien child of intention--
bleeds through like pain,
as threads of black fire.
bind me to life.

Okay.  You win.

There are a lot of stars in the sky
I haven't burned my hands on yet.
I will try again to steal
one from the sky.