Annihilation: Her body akin to my soul, almost consumed by the flames As the pain takes control like I'm presumed insane I see my Jane in her eyes, like a portal into souls Our fiery passion transcendin' these mortal coils Partner pulling me back I'm sedated by our holistic fate Her face pulling me back from my nihilistic state Escapin' the crowd unable to escape the resemblance My wifes slab not even draped in a truths semblance Murdered n' raped, no traces, not an ounce or shred Left graspin' for fadin' moments once pronounced dead As sirens cry out in pain quickly nearin' the riots incite My second chance at hand atoning in quiet respite. "John, this such a good idea, I know she looks like.." "She'll be fine here, Mac, a little sleep and a bite to eat, for now she can rest and recover, got it?" "Chief ever finds out he'll discover ya psychotic!" Seven years on the force, ol' Mac and me I knew he'd cover, pick up my slack, and let me be Hell, I'd think the same, but Mac, ya, Mac knew When Jane went died she took half of me too The way she'd simply smile and just stare into my soul No matter the vile cases I had, I couldn't bare but feel whole "Whe...where am I? How...how did I get here?" "M'am, I'm Detective Carter, ya safe, have no fear You were caught in activist riot, stuck in a car But your journey's over now, you needn't go far Detective Maclean went back to HQ to report, see He'll be back to get a statement from you shortly" "I don'...I don't remember, but thank you so much" "Hush, not another word Jane, all I want is your touch" As I approached my kindred spirit I was one again, Engrained with the freedom from fear and from pain, "No! Get away you freak!" Then sunshine turned to rain, The sirens, that awful noise! Come to take her again! *Officers barge into Detective John Carters Home* "Officer's help! He went out the back, he's deranged!" "Jane.. what are you doing here? Are you in any pain?" "What...I can't remember...where's Detective Maclean" "Who? Ms. Carter, you ex-husband is clinically insane He was put on medical leave, Paranoid Skitzophrenic, Two years ago, you don't remember the train wreck? You had irreparable amnesia, divorced, went into fugue, And there's no one by the name of Maclean in our crew... ===========================VS.=========================== Vigil: Topic: I Could Have Done More Ghost Writer I'm Dead, buried in the back of his mind in the empty spaces he created he placed me here then vacated couldn't face his fears I was one mask of his many faces he hated and he's been in this phase for years. I'm waiting to be on a page to show my rage & tears so the idle spots on his face can appear without the fear of pushing me back in cause im out of place in his shell thats cracking. . See, I was withdrawn from his bigger picture but I wasn't out of line, I just couldn't fit in the fixture. I was there for him to save him from razor cuts and he used to praise me, but our once concrete trust has fade to dust. For a while we played mind games but it was so hard cause it was catch me if you can & he played both parts. He had constant mood swings, & he always missed cause he was too busy over throwing the ideas that I pitched. He was turned off when I kept switching my role from being that self-fulfilling soul to that invisible hole. Over time things got worst, we got in fights & feuds his temper was heating up, but not enough to light our fuse. It was a dog fight, I was taken into the pound & it was hard picking myself up when he was breakin me down. It was a one-sided inner war, we were both consumed fighting over territory in our remoted room, and the battle scars left him with open wounds. We both were in tune with the instruments of death but I held my breath too long, & misused some keys and eventually hit the deck, it was a miscue and he fled with his crew to sea continued in his shipwreck with only a few of me. I was his counterpart, always in and around his heart since he was in the gene pool I was his lifeguard so I found it quite hard that he would he lock me in a tight jar but I guess that's how the cookie crumbles. And now I got no voice for me to speak up I hate his guts & I can't escape, caged in, shut.. pouring my thoughts into decayed paper cups. He'll listen up soon, or hell will keep knocking and his inner voices will keep talking till' he figures out you can't chase dreams while sleep walking. . . The guy in this piece broke apart mid stride so I had to let him go. I could have done more, instead I let him prance around but that was out of the question, the same one I'm trying to answer now. He was at one time my steer and guide and although I shoved him aside I still love him inside. And in this post I'm reciting his side . . . ghostwriting for the part of me that died. ===========================VS.=========================== RIKOSHAY: Sleep tight baby boy. You’ll never have to know that lead slugs bite more ferociously than any bed bug might. But hey, the only good thug is a dead thug, right? Never heard the blackbird singing in the dead of night. Only silent mockingbirds and mama can’t afford to buy you a diamond ring so I never even learned the rest of the rhyme to sing. They say that, with time, the sting of all wounds will heal. It feels like an eternity has past yet it’s still too soon to feel anything but pain in my tortured heart. My whole world’s been torn apart and I can’t tell where the nightmare ends and the horror starts. So, I’m sorry baby boy. Mama tried but this ghetto has got to me. It is a small world but my breath don’t come properly when it’s settled on top of me. I truly believed in the red rose philosophy. Plucked the pedals and dropped them each with a “He loves me”, “He loves me not” and your papa loves us both, the roses said so, methodically. I should have known better. Love in the ghetto is not to be. I knew it before I heard the echo of shots released. I left my heart exposed for robbery and the thief in the night was a bullet with no name until it engraved one in granite. So, when you see this head stone come toppling, just know: your papa’s free and freedom is not of this world when fate is involved. Ooh baby, baby, it’s a wild world and I’m afraid of it’s call. Now, I just pray that my faith will absolve my fatal impulse. No one ever told me that depression was a post-natal result. Maybe this head stone can lift the weight as it falls down on you…baby…cradle and all.