time doesn't pass
when i sit in this class
sitting on my ***
i can't really see
beyond the past.

i hear people talking
but i don't hear anyone stopping
to think about the time they're robbing
from my sleep
my head is fogging

but i trek on
type out this little song
these hours are long
and i'm waiting
to see what i did wrong.

it will be over
it will stop this exposure
my time will return to it's owner
and i'll go back
to my family who isn't sober

If you lost all sensory capability next week,
how would you prepare?
it's an insane thing to think about,
not being in the same universe as the rest.

you won't be in a universe at all, it might feel like,
you'd just be floating, unable to feel pressure
unable to feel a hug
or the head of a dog
or even your feet on the ground

You'd be left alone with your thoughts,
And with no external stimuli,
Would you remember,
Or forget everything you've ever loved?

I have a foot stuck in my head
Wherever I go
I have no time I spend
Sitting alone
I have no reason to stay
With my foot stuck home
I forgot how to be brave
When there's no one to show
My accomplishments to
I've lost my shoe
And I refuse to walk
Barefoot on the cold hard ground

"quick, i need your shoe."
you said to me
and i didn't hesitate as we
ran outside.

i threw off my shoe
i didn't know what you were going to do
i didn't question it, however
i just wanted to make the problem better

soon i learned
our little group of friends were trading shoes
"i just wanted to wear your shoe"
you said,
"it's interesting to see
the way you walk
how your foot's developed
to the paths you took"

it wasn't an emergency, i felt relieved
i don't know what i expected
and we bonded,
over wearing each other's shoes.
walking each other's paths.

"this one makes my toes curl."
"i have small feet!"
"this one makes me sad."
"i'm not a very happy person."
"this one is really big!"
"my feet are pretty wide."
"this one feels lumpy."
"i need more stability in my life!"

amazing how much i can learn
from your shoe.
i hope that you have learned
from me, too.

The side of myself that loves you,
Isn't strong enough
To admit it.
The side of myself that hates you,
Is scared of what's to come.

laugh in the face of
sickening doubt
because that doubt
is the one skeptic of your ability
to ever laugh again

Don't you dare cry for me-
For I can do that myself.
I simply choose not to,
Because then you'd tell me
Your addicting lies.

"Who are you?" I ask aloud.
"There should only be one, but I can see two."

"Who am I?" You repeated my question.
"I'm the one who can never leave your side."

"If your here to stay," I sigh and sit.
"You might as well help me through this day."

"That's not what I do," You laughed and jumped.
"My job is to set up obstacles to drag you through."

"What's the point?" I tilted my head.
"We are one of the same, connected at the joint."

"No, we aren't." You rolled your eyes.
"I'm the one preventing you from trying anything new."

For someone who has such a way with words,
Who can ravel them around my neck and lead me anywhere;
You get tongue-tied when I show you the same talent.

Take a flower,
Keep it with you all day.
Eventually,
It will wilt away.
Take a flower,
Hold it close to your chest.
One day, you know,
I will have to rest.

But my garden remains
You're welcome any day
But you can't stay, no,
No, you cannot stay.

Take a ****,
You can hold it for a moment.
Throw it away,
That's the agreement.
Take a ****,
Don't think on it too long.
Please, you know,
Not to dwell on the past.

And my garden remains.
You can come in any day.
I appreciate the help, I do,
I do,
But you cannot stay,
You can't stay, no,
Please don't stay.

Take a memory,
Keep it with you all day,
Take a memory,
Then throw it away.
You can always,
Dig back for it.
But don't keep it,
Don't keep it,
For more than a day.

My garden remains.
You're welcome any day,
But you cannot stay.
You cannot stay.

You cannot stay,
In the garden, In the garden,
You cannot stay,
Because that's where I live.
You cannot stay,
In the garden, In the garden,
You cannot stay.

But I wish you would stay.

"Why can't you shut up?"

Says the knight to the bard
For the knight knows agony
When the bard sings his song.

"Are you mad?" asks the lyricist, expression surprised.  
"Anyone would be joyed to hear their battles become rhyme."

But the knight wasn't happy, for he knew the truth              
That the painful deaths of many men hid behind the tune.
That the failure as a protector would haunt him in song
That sleepless nights without father, husband, or son is what he did wrong.

A pessimist others call him, a realist stands true
For reality is too harsh to be handled by a fool.

We were a group of four,           where
We always got into trouble,
One way or another.
We could never be...
"The Good Kids"
For lack of a better term.

Something happened,
However,
To the girl of the group.
It's funny, she said she              did
Have a crush on...
You guessed it.
The talented one.

The other thing was,                  she
Was my sister.
And, although I was...
Worried, I suppose,
She never ditched
The rest of us
For him.

What's funny is,
The crazy one,
Was madly in love...
With her.
He's the one
Who gets us into trouble.
He always wants to...               go
Somewhere, do something.

He's also the one,
With a twisted sense of humor.
And, as a joke,
He said with a foolish grin:
"Play this game of roulette
with me, and whoever wins
gets to keep the princess!"        It
was a simple joke, with a
sinister meaning
Behind it.

We weren't Russian, so
Of course the Talented one
Agreed. It                                     was
A foolish thing,
What the crazy one did next,
But he didn't know better.
He pulled out
His father's old dusty revolver,
And shot Mr.Talent,
Aimed at the head.

It didn't go off.
Mr. Crazy was                              just
Dying of laughter at
Mr.Talent's face of shock.
My heart leaped, but
My mind told me the gun
Wasn't loaded.
It couldn't be loaded.
And by how my sister
Was acting,
She had come to the
Same conclusion.

Then, Mr.Crazy
Shot himself in the head.
It didn't go off, don't worry,
But then he opened the gun,
And let a single bullet fall
To the yellow grass.
He fumed.                                       A
Grasshopper jumped onto
The bullet and quickly
Fled as Mr.Crazy sighed.

"Well, that was no good.
A boring                                        joke,
That was!" He chuckled.
Us three, we were in shock.
Once again.
"How could you do that?"
Mr.Talent screamed while
My sister stared at the bullet
In horror.

Years later,
My sister ditched her
Husband, Mr.Talent,
For the exciting...
Mr.Crazy. I was...
Surprised.                                   I'm
Still surprised.
We were growing apart,
At this time.
I even lost contact
With her.
And Mr.Talent...
Attempted suicide.
With the old revolver.
I don't know how
He got it.
He left a note,
Saying he was                          sorry
To her, and to him,
And to me.

I stayed with him,
As much as I could.
My sister never made
An appearance.                         I'm
Still shocked at that.
Mr.Crazy only returned
To take his gun back.

And, eventually,
Mr.Talent fell into
The only support he could
Find, besides me.
That, was fame. I was                  Not
Surprised, then.

He pushed me away,
Saying he didn't need me.
Which, was a big, fat,
Lie, but at the time,
He convinced me otherwise.
I was moving, and I was             A
Little too far away to
Keep going to his place,
So I did what he wanted,
And stayed away.

The results weren't...                     good.
Reports of him being
Hospitalized, everywhere
I look. I didn't understand
How he didn't die, then.
I do now, but
That's another story.
Every                                                     person
Who knew I knew him would
Talk to me about
Going back to see him.
But I knew the journey
Would be empty.
So, I didn't.

And, as a reward for
Waiting, I suppose,
I was once again invited back
To his friendship.
The next day,
He died.

so schools starting up again,
we were out for winter break, in case you didn't know.
it's weird to have a winter break
but never see a drop of snow.

my backpack is empty
my sadness returns
seeing those familiar faces
makes my eyes burn

this isn't a sad poem, though,
it's just about school.
im relating to the young souls
who can feel this too.

because they know,
we really don't learn much
so why are we judged
by the grades we're forced to bring up?

why can't we be judged
by who we actually are,
instead of meaningless numbers
that spawn from meaningless subjects
that come from meaningless
noise

have you ever put yourself in the middle of a toxic relationship?
what a curious question to ask,
probably not, no, no.

because you love yourself,
or at least, have the basic instincts
of self-preservation
or maybe you're equipped to handle these things
well, i wasn't.

being in the middle of a toxic relationship,
things tend to be warped.
you aren't dealing with an unstoppable force
and an immovable object
but rather, two immovable objects
and two unstoppable forces
simultaneously.

you're usually forced to pick a side
no matter how adamant you are about
how there is no "side", i tell them,
i tell them,
there is you, and there is you, and there is me,
and you've brought me here to help
not to harm
and the weird notion that there ever was a "side"
in something that is supposed to be a relationship,
is nothing but harmful,
detriment, painful,
unhelpful.

but, this does little to nothing,
because in the middle of a toxic relationship,
the two are worn down,
torn down,
stripped bare until you have their most inner instincts
their most inner thoughts,
their inner child,
and we all know
a child doesn't listen

in the middle of a toxic relationship,
the only thing they can seem to agree on
is when i'm wrong, when i've done bad,
when i'm in the wrong

but when you've been in the middle of a toxic relationship
for long enough,
it eventually wears you down, to the point where you're patience is gone,
finished,
extinct,
and eventually, you're forced to choose a side

when you're in a toxic relationship,
my advice,
is to run.

He was a man of ego
Of narcissism and fame.
A character of endless problems
And there was always someone to blame.
This someone
He was a man of anger
Of sadness and spite
One manipulative man with a
Heart of sheer might.
Together he was arrogant,
and he, accepting.
Accepting of his quirks,
because they made him unaware. Accepting
of his demands
Because he thought them fair.
Accepting of his inflation
Because it made him blind
Accepting of his belittling comments
Because they fueled his anger.
These men, can you tell them apart?
No? Yes?
Whatever the case, they don't know they reflect each others character sheet.

I might secretly be a snake

it feels as if I'm wearing my own skin as a mask

it is no longer my own

and no one wants to buy a used skin...

I wish a snake would tell me how to shed it.

but if I do, will I still be a person? will I still be the same?

I...

I suppose i'll... keep wearing the full body mask, and try to remember the mannerisms of me, so no one gets suspicious.

it's working so far.

but I think that's because the humans around me aren't looking for the right things, if at all...

I'd like to meet other snakes.

you wear two eyepatches instead of a blindfold
i look ridiculous

you invite me inside and step on my foot
i buy you new shoes

nuance is dead
i am tired of pretending to recognize subtlety

you should leave me to my hobbies
of dancing around topics i care about,
and playing ping pong with a table made out of people

i request we normalize stupidity like we do kindness and terror
laughing through time as if it were linear
i request a bed of nails for the back support

may i sink peacefully into the wood below

if I popped a balloon for every time I felt
black sludge in place of where serotonin should be,

I'll have ruined my own birthday party.
...oh, where are the guests?
did I cancel on them or did they cancel on me?

oh well. I still have my cake.
my black, sludge cake.

Ahem! Let's try this part of the infinite abyss, shall we? Here we go, follow my lead!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA­AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA­AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA­AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA­AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA­AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA­AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA­AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Am I big?
Or
Am I small?
It depends on where you look.

Look up:
You see the stars, or maybe you see the clouds.
But, constantly, you see the big blue sky
where planets look at you and see a microscopic creature.

Look down:
You see the grass, or the carpet, or the concrete.
Whatever the case, you are looking at the ground.
That ground holds creatures so tiny, they look to you as the sky.

Where are you in the spectrum?
Well, are you big, or are you small?
You can decide for yourself, I suppose.
I'll wait here.

A new year's resolution
Is usually made to better myself.
A new year, a new me!
A new way to set myself free!

Free of responsibilities, that is.
Because with new ways to better oneself,
breeds new excuses, new "oh, I don't have time for that"s.

Let's stop this.
How, you ask?
Instead of a new year, new me,
How about a new year, new you?

Instead of this resolution to better myself
I'll make this a resolution to better yourself.
Wipe away the tears of a stranger,
Wipe clean the slate of old grudges that cause danger.
The danger being, falling friendships
Because those are so rare nowadays.

And with every life I save,
With every smile I make,
I'll say, "Hey, I did that!"
"I made a person have another reason to live,"
"and in turn that gives me another reason to live,"
"just for them."

So, a new year, a new you,
A new way to laugh, a new way to choose
how to better oneself, how to better yourself,
And a friendself, and even a strangerself,
Because this kindness eventually...
Betters myself.
And, this time, it doesn't take much effort, either!

HA!
Hahaha.
What sound did your brain make,
When you read this?
Was it the sound of you?
Was it the sound of someone else?
Was it the sound of someone you fear?
Or was it the sound of someone you love?

Hm.
Let me think about that.
AH! I have my answer!
It is:
all of the above.

Why am I scared of passing time
Time passes, always, it can feel like a crime
A crime to take away fun memories
A crime to bury past mistakes
A crime to cease everything sensory
A crime to slam my foot on the brakes

It aches me to say, I don't know what I did today
Or yesterday, or the day before that one too
Because to have done something means you apply significance
Spoon fed your day a meaning like you do to food
But you can't always make a difference
You can't always change a day

It's a new day, it's a new year,
It's a new time to create new fears
While ignorance recedes, pain grows
Pain knowing that you can't expose
yourself to new ideas so easily anymore
Because this past year you've known
Known how hard it is to start something new

You tell yourself,
What are you waiting for?
And you reply,
I'm not waiting for anything!
So you jump into the first few feet of water
That's when you realize
You don't have anyone to help you get farther
into the ocean of new opportunities
And when you try to meet others, to say "hi"
You get nothing but cold water
So instead of trying again,
Trying so hard to make friends,
You simply step out of the ocean,
And into the land of wasted chances.

But, you're out of the water now.
So, why are you drowning?

how am i supposed to go back to my life,

when i don't know where it is?

it seems i've misplaced it,

or maybe it's broken,

because everyone who once was in the picture,

i see lying shattered on the ground.

do i follow the trail of glass?

did my life get up and walk away?

what if i don't want to find my life?

i don't want to experience the shock

because when my life slipped away from my grasp

it left silently

but now, if i find it,

or rather, if it's forced back into my possession,

i'll hear nothing but screaming, and ringing in my ears

for the next ******* week,

because my life is like a sobbing baby

who doesn't yet understand

not everything goes it's way.

where you see a desert
i see an ocean
where you see a death
i see a happiness
where you see a life
i see an opportunity

but this isn't always the case, my friend
one day,
if i convince you of the good,
when i've convinced myself it isn't there
will you promise to see an ocean?
just for me?

YOU
CANNOT
ESCAPE
WHAT YOU
MUST FACE.

but, shhh,
ill tell you a secret
you could run away forever,
                                                   and ever,
and never look back

YOU
ARE
SUFFOCATING
                               SUFFOCATING
SUFFOCATING
IN THE THINGS
YOU CANNOT CHANGE.

don't cry, sour child,
you can go away
there is an escape
e s c a p e is what we do, you see,
if you want to do just that,
come with m-

THERE IS NO ESCAPE.
UNLESS YOU WANT TO BE SEEN AS
COWARDLY
SELFISH
AND PITIED UPON.

sooooooo... shh...
what will even c h a n g e?
what a strange word, it either never seems to happen,
or it happens too much.
but there is an e s c a p e, you see,
come with me-

FACE ME.
come with me-
FACE ME.
come with me~
FACE ME.
you can't win~
YOU CAN'T WIN.
you can't win~
YOU CAN'T WIN.

Oh, yes, yes, I can.
...Right?

words are strange things.
they're sounds we give meaning.
and when strung together a certain way,
they suddenly create mind boggling results.
seas of beautiful people suddenly turn sour,
mountains of angry humans turn around and pick flowers.
words are different everywhere you go,
and some words aren't even spoken with a voice
but rather a hand
its nice, i think
that we all give meaning to such sounds
they act as either a leash to pull you in
or a wind to blow you out

yeah, we spill word ***** on here sometimes

i pour myself a large bowl of pure, unadulterated life

and I microwave it down to its essentials

personally, it tastes like melting plastic and rubbery massages

that's not a very pleasant taste, so one must throw it up somewhere...

but in a way, the ***** people share can be quite lovely to look at, don't you think?

I like it, at least.