SpikeFury

Frozen stars fall from the sky, many white specs catch my eye. Thus is the beauty of winter. Work slows and builds with given time, as children and adults times do bind. Thus is the fun of winter. As snowmen build and patience corrode, madness skids all over the road. Thus is the danger of winter. Status and race set aside, as snow drifts build on every side. Thus is the justice of winter. A frozen forces pound the lands, an old man holds countries in his hands. Thus is the Glory of Winter.

Life's travels are forever tough, steep valleys and troubled bluffs. Casting rhinestones and shiny dust, I find my diamond in the rough. As clashing blacksmiths we temper steel, seeing who is the first to kneel. Scared wounds and secrets sealed, mean nothing as we heal. Coin halves, same of the two, what completes me always is you. Forever, eternal, pure and true. A pledge of unwavering love to you.

Written September 30, 2011 I awake in ruin. Last thing I remember is my castle of diamond, quarts and forged steel. A testament of beauty to a love I thought could be forever. A "curse" lurked it's way in at the seems, unseen it "turned" my castle. What I thought was indestructible became fragile, stable became a spinning madness of disbelief. My Steel & Diamond became a glass and tin house. This "curse" became a stone thrown by no one. Too fast for thought, an indescribable crash of sorrows enveloped my home. I stayed to search, for I knew there was one other with me in this home . . . but then why am I alone? Senses come as I awake buried

Written September 19, 2011 A bringer of peace with maturity. A different perspective with his own way of living. Ways to bring smiles, solve problems and give hope to the sludge we call "the daily grind". I have a good heart & soul with a very different mind than others. I have my own path I travel as I try to meld it with others to enjoy life to it's fullest. I show my honesty in all it's naked truths for solid grounds of faith and trust. My intentions are just, simple, human . . . and that's where the problem starts for others. You on the other hand see me completely different. I become this "thing" that robs you of power. What you see is

Written august 8, 2011 So I'm told I'm not a man . . . I call Bull-Shit on that. I had to make ALOT of sacrafices(including grammar :D) to live this long and get where I'm at. I have always did what is right in my heart. I made choices that made little sense to others, but was necessary to make. In my eyes it made perfect sense. I didn't do it because it was the easiest choice, nor am I the strongest man on earth(what are you smoking!?). I do what I do BECAUSE it's difficult and I know the kind of reward there is in the end. I'm proud of the man I've become. I still get a lot of guff because I'm not the popular cliche' adult(Drinker, abuser,

Written August 2, 2011 There are times I am not my own master, and it scares me. I tell myself, "That's enough, STOP!" But no. I have to keep going. Searching. Searching for what? I already followed what you yern for, I found what couldn't be obtained. Even what cannot be obtained by all other means. The journey is over, but it's not enough. My body and soul won't listen as I try to follow through with what's truely important. It still wants to roam, search, haunt for what can't be obtained. I know all too well what's waiting for me and I've had enough dispare. And still it insists on going further. I don't want to go, but I have no choice.

Written July 8, 2011 Of my entire life trying to make sacrafices for a better future I had nothing but myself all too often. I hated it. I learned to enjoy being with other people and spending time with them. And with a lack of understanding and overflow of "Ire" is held back as I hear "Enjoy being single." Impossible. Being alone is a burden and feels like punishment, being with others eases the tension. I feel mad and confused as the warmth of others I desire is cast aside and I'm tossed in the freezer until they're "ready for me". I'm not at ANYONE'S service!!!

Written June 24, 2011 The scars are agonizing. You can't see them, but I can feel them. Some old, some fresh. Some deep enough turn a tank to a tin can, some that looks like your puppy wants out. I can't let him out, he has to stay put. He has to stay for the safety of so many others . . . Still the small vallies carved with desire, pain and longing clutter the walls. Clutters the floor and the ceiling. I've done a good job somehow, keeping him in. I need to find a way to lock him up better. Because the very walls that hold him, are getting thinner . . .

Written June 9, 2011 As the Voice sways the mind, it is essential for it to be broken in some mannor as the person is shaken to the core. And with it there is harmony in such destruction. As the Guitar rips the soul through the very air it flows through, giving the individual a much needed stir. And with it there is harmony in such destruction. As the Drums shake and vibrate the earth while it's simbols strike like lightning, cracking the air and one's skull wide open. And with it there is harmony in such destruction. As the list of countless instruments engulf all that is human, this is nothing new but nature at work. Destroying what is

Written June 2, 2011 So I am to continue searching. This desert is endless, and mirages are rampent. With no stars to navigate and no wind, I am truely lost . . .