all the blood and tears that I wasted all this years
come from the pain and hurt, that I continue to fear
I'm left alone, left behind from anything possible
I'm not disrespectful nor irresponsible
so why was I lonely most the time
I did nothing more then just a couple crimes
I'm different, I know that for a fact
doesn't mean I have to get attacked
I dream and cry just like all the rest
I don't want to keep getting treated like I'm a lab rat test
I don't blend in with the colors of the walls
why is it that I never get invited to go the mall?
why is it that I don't get asked if I'm alright?
why I'm the person they always want to fight?
I must be a figure that looks like it needs to get beat
might as well throw me in a lions den, since I'm just a piece of meat
it's hurtful and sad that I get told to die
that the only friends I have aren't humans but flies
I'm not the best looking guy in world, I get that
doesn't mean you have to bash my skull with a bat....

Heart's been broken
The story ended
On how a misspoken
Word cannot be translated.

I couldn't say that I loved you first
Nor could I say that I loved you last
And now I'm planning things I shouldn't do
Like saying, that I hated you too?

So, just ignore the bad words here
My mind is already ****** up
The cusses were once holy too
But the people kept messing things up.

So I never had the time to say:
"I'm ******* in love with your demon soul"
I was craving for pleasure
Begging for blood, more specifically.
I said I was in pain! No, no. I am the pain

So just die in a hole
Let the worms eat you
Let me touch you
I wanna be alone
I want you to be here with me
I want you to die
I want you to kiss me
I want you to fall, hardly.

*I want you to stay.

Why do I write ?

I write!
I write to relieve strife and feel right!
To feel light, like a feather,
and feel better after heavy weather.
Spiritually I am debated,
I am hated,
I write to vandalize the page and feel sated.

I write to confine confidence that I am the best,
I am the next to write about the human perplex systematic disorder,
or about the mentality of a hoarder,
who holds words in his head all day and night till he's filled with fright.

I write for the same reason you write
To escape life and get some thoughts on a page.

This was written in the dark.
Whispered in the night.

It was wished upon a rising sun,  
Released in morning light.

Less a poem than a prayer,
A whimper more than scream.

Born as naked hope and watered,  
Grown from faint idea to dream.

Now the sound of summer coming;
Breezes rustling greening leaves,

Leaves us knowing things as growing,
Be it flowers, crops or trees.

Painless birth from earth to air,
Summer; springtime's daughter

Laughs and sings to sunkissed things,
Wet with broken water.

there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at ****** are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love

beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average

but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to **** you
to **** anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect

like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest art