Hums of swinging blades and axes,
Wailing of voices,
Ricochets of guns.
Secrets whispered in private,
Declamation exclaimed in public,
Hymns sung,
Words spoken.
People are the weapon.
We must not doubt ourselves.
All conflict,
No matter the position,
Comes from a common source.
People are the weapons.
All else, extensions-
Of the arm,
Of the leg,
Of the mind,
Of the heart;
All extensions of the person.
By extension,
A person is an extension
Of the people.
Let the power of the individual
Never lie unknown,
For in one person
Is the concentrated power
Of everyone.

Will you be there
with me
when nobody else will?
Will you be there
to keep me in check?
I think someone has to.

Will you be there
to keep
me safe from myself?
Will you be there
to give me
the courage I don't have?
I think someone has to.

Because I can't do this
All alone.

Will you be there
to assist
when I have no strength left
to keep fighting
for what we both believe in?
I think someone has to.

Will you be there
to help
us hold onto
our ground
when the whole world has tanks
and all we have is eachother?
I think someone has to.

Because,
otherwise,
we're all fighting for nothing.

Unlucky
i am a black cat
who has his path crossed by another

Unlucky
i walk under ladders
i had once tried to climb
just to fall back down
to where i am now

Unlucky
i look for hope
like a piece of hay
in a needlestack
and i'm stuck with all the pins

Unlucky
i look on my reflection
in the mirror of my mind
which my ugly sadness shatters

Seven Years More...
Seven Years More...

i beg for a lucky charm,
my 'lucky rabbit's foot'.

In the end,
Mars is just a rock.
A rock covered in sand,
Made of worn,
Rusty,
Iron.

That said,
It can't control me.
Only I can,
And that's a point of pride.

I sting as much as I will,
I pinch as much as I will,
And I'll sleep in your sandals
As much as I will.

Thankfully,
I often choose to be benevolent.
Only I can choose my morals,
And that's a point of pride.

I may be passionate,
I may be persistent,
Obsessive,
Loyal,
And manipulative all in one.

But I am that and more.
If Mars is meant to restrict me,
It has failed miserably.
Can the same be said
Of it's rusty sand?

Don't be fooled.
I don't woo with words.
I don't woo with actions,
Either.

No, I am too much of a novice.

My intention,
Intended,
To release these tensions
Intensified by the cloud
Of tense living.

In tensions with no spa,
No relief,
No massage,
No pedicure,
No manicure
To calm them.

Ever wondered
Who masseurs
The masseuse?
I don't wonder.
I know.

No one.

Intending
To untensify
The tender
Tendencies of
Tenacious living,
The tenders of
Untended flesh
Relieve your tensions
With no intentions
of receiving intended returns.

They take your tensions
With only intentions
To leave you intense
In the freedom of life.
Meanwhile fragile tensions
Tend to rend them,
Causing trouble and strife.

Feel relieved.
They are in tension,
Don't worry about
Giving attention.

You weren't going to anyway.

I'm sure you're all disappointed.

I am the prince charming
you grew up hearing about.
But I'm not perfect,
I'm not royal,
I'm not handsome.

I'm noble,
yes.
But nobility gets you nowhere.

I'm sure someone blew things out of proportion.

I am flawed.
I am poor.
I am ugly.

The closest I get to a royal decree,
is raising my pen or pencil in hand,
like a scepter,
in triumph of an accomplishment,
either in word or in art.

I am ugly.
I am poor.
I am flawed.
I am the prince charming
you grew up hearing about.

And I'm sure you're all disappointed.

These days,
I find myself reaching out.

Reaching out for love,
Reaching out for 'like'.

Reaching out for anything
That can make me feel whole.

Reaching out for
the feel of hands that caress;
creating hope,
dispelling hopelessness.

...If only for a while.

Excuse me,
Mister Optimist.
I prefer not to be called
A pessimist.
Because a realist
Realizes
His situation.
And mine is always
Very grim.

So how am I a pessimist,
For learning from the past
Of this..?

To say one thing to the world?
A daunting task.
I can scarcely know what the world needs,
Sitting here,
In this country,
All my life.
But
I do know what America needs,
And by extension,
Maybe the world, also.

Fellowship.
Not the kind that is forced by governments,
Who would take from hard workers
And their families to provide for others
In harsh times.
That is false,
And only plants resentment.

No,
We need a common fellowship of man,
Where men give of themselves and their efforts
Not because they were required,
But because they were respondent
To the human condition.
Everyone picking each other up when they fall,
And only expecting the best of their neighbors.

In a world like that,
There would be no depression,
No charity cases,
No forgotten souls,
Just love
And Fellowship.

Call me a 'misogynist'
For learning your tricks,
Your 'feminism'
Doesn't stick.

I'm sure women
Feel empowered
With you sleeping around
At the twilight hours,
With 'chauvinist pigs'
In your blankets.

'Mistreated' and 'stereotyped',
What you scream
When deemed unripe.

You blame them for
Not taking of refuse
And call them
'Trash'.
All your words should amount
To ash,
But somehow womanhood
Always makes you right,
Even when,
From end to end,
You
Were the only one fooling in the night.

A poem
is like a fountain of youth.

Makes it's writer immortal
whether he or she
wants it or not.

I'd rather not
be immortal.

But this fountain of youth
is a fountain of words
from a mountain of thoughts

That if said
could make a fountain of tears

I'd rather not put people through it.

If I wrote for death
I am cursed to live.

All my thoughts
written down
have made me immortal.

And unfortunately,
they can't be
erased from
the minds of those
who took time from their lives
to read my words
and add to mine.

I'm sorry for making a fountain of youth.

Wasted words I should have thought instead of said
Wasted dreams of who knows what stuck in my head
Wasted thoughts and wasted time,
Wasted explosive dramamine
With about fifty billion fuses.

Wasted money
Wasted laughs
On wasted verbal acrobat
-ics that used to summon smiles,
T'would only last but for awhile
Before they'd disappear again
Though I may not see you,
You're still my friend.

Wasted smiles on
Wasted jokes
Wasted guys in overcoats
Written on pages
Never finished
Endless stages.

Wasted sorrow
Wasted pain
We may ne'er connect again
But I still love to make you laugh
Though you may think I'm such an ***.

I am wasted.
Wasted for the better ends
Wasted for family and friends
But I still see where hope begins...

I am wasted.

Promises are words,
Not bonds.
As with other words
They can be shallow
Empty
Sarcastic
Meaningless.
So beware of promises,
Especially the implausible.
Fortunately,
Everyone can promise,
Even you.
So promise them back,
Give what they deserve.
Promises are words,
Not pacts.

I loved her,
So for her birthday
I made a necklace.

She was quiet and shy,
So I made it with bronze,
A material not shiny,
Not glistening,
But nevertheless
Can be made into
Something beautiful.

It does not seek attention.
It exists to be practical.
It does not promise the impossible.
No wealth does it testify.
It doesn't put itself out to be recognized,
But it is made into something beautiful.

A chain to line her neck
And charms full of meaning
Despite their insignificant appearance.

A bronze butterfly,
Hidden beauty within,
The ability to fly free.

A heart-shaped lock
For keeping love secure.

A key for holding close
Until the time is right
To open.

And two turtles,
For the virtue of patience,
Taking things slow and easy.

I don't know
How she'll take it,
I only ask
That she'll make it
Her treasure.

Take everything you knew.
Imagine it all as a lie.
What would you do?

Would you shout in anger?
Would you cry in sadness?
Would you delude yourself
to continue believing?

Take everything I am.
Rebuild me as you want.
Am I any better?

Am I whole?
Am I sane?
Am I any more worthy
of love?

Take all your misconceptions.
Tell yourself there are always exceptions.
Do you hold exceptions to your misconceptions of me,
or am I still damaged?

Gay men are fit to love.
Straight men are fit to curse.

Save the trees.
Save the whales.
Save the seals.
Save the vile criminal.
**** the innocent fetus.

Bush is hated for starting a war.
Obama is loved for perpetuating it.

Hating a black man
Is racism,
Despite his own actions towards you.
Hating a white man?
Expected.
Smiled upon.

Black Power?
Okay.
*******?
Damnable.

A *******?
Fit to marry.
A Gentleman?
Fit to trample.

A man courting a woman?
Accepted.
A woman courting a man?
Strange, unheard of.

Not trying to be political.
Not trying to be partial.
Just trying to be social.

For you,
I perscribe:

One pill of
'Hold me',
Two pills of
'Kiss me',
Four milliliters of
'Love me'.

Taken daily.

Side-effects may include:

'Leave me',
'Hate me',
'Use me',
'**** me'.

If these occur,
report back to me
immediately
for
euthanasia.

Trust me,
you won't live through it.

He is I
I am me.

Time
And Time
And Time
And Time Again.

Time, it was my friend.
Time and time again.

Writings all over the walls come down.
Movies playing in my mind all drown.
Showing me that all it takes is time
To mend,
All it takes is time to rend-

-er my mind,
Breaking time,
Drowning sorrow so
It falls, it falls, it falls, it falls
Into nonexistence, and I

Can't take this life,
So he will die...

But so can I.

-Not today, but long after tomorrow,
Unless God wills, I'll drown my sorrow.
Drowning sorrow so it can never
Walk across my mind again.


Hating hate so I can find an end
To the violence of my heart,
And I can find a friend
That will never let me down
If I just let my sorrow drown.

I know.
To you,
I look so happy,
So content.

It's all because
You're there to see me.

If you could see
Me without you,
It would be like
Day and night.

Without you,
I'm worrying.
Are you okay?
Do you hate me?
Is that smile on your face
As conditional as mine?

With you,
I have no doubts.
I have no fear.
I would protect you,
And you would laugh and smile.
And I'd have no thought
It wasn't genuine.

My happiness is dependent.
Dependent on my feeling whole,
Dependent on your smile,
Dependent on your happiness.

Happiness is contagious.
Depend on it.

Dear feminism,
You're doing it wrong.
Showcasing your gender
in physical form
does not open awareness
of a woman's
mental
and
emotional
wealth.
It merely confirms
misogynist thoughts.
If you want
to make a point,
don't generalize your targets
as pigs.
Rather,
express what makes women valuable.
Men can be deeper
than your delusions
let you know.

----------

Dear homosexual male community,
I am repulsed
that people can
associate me
with you.
Emotion
or thought
or open-mindedness
or expressiveness
should not denote
****** orientation.
I love women to the point
that I am overly chivalrous;
why should me
being in touch
with my emotions
or being different
than the
'male status quo'
change my sexuality?

P.S. - Homophobia is fear of homosexuals,
not,
as you'd havepeople believe,
the dislike or refusal
to treat the act as natural.

P.P.S. - The way
you portray yourselves,
you are still straight,
you only prefer your
women
to have a ***** attached.

----------

Dear fellow men,
A lot of you are
perverted.
You focus on
superficial things;
the *****,
the rear,
the hair color,
the eyes,
the shape...
For what purpose?
It is the mind
and the personality
that matter most.
It is because of you
that women have
painted our gender
as monsters,
pigs,
rapists.
And many of you are,
because,
in your minds,
can the women give any consent?

You say I'm
'Too nice' to love.
What kind of farce is that?

How mean
Do I have to be
To earn your affection?

Should I insult you?
Should I **** you?
Should I beat you?
Should I nearly **** you?

These are harsh words.
But these are what you want.
You'd forgo loving
A protector
To let
A Threat
Beneath your sheets.

No matter how many women say it,
'Too nice'
Does not exist.

Let me ask this.
What is
'Too mean'
To you?

You obviously want someone unlike me.
You want someone who holds grudges and retaliates against you?
That's not me.
You want someone who verbally threatens and insults you daily?
That's not me.
You want someone who'll bash your brains out?
That's definitely not me.

Try those out if you want.

Come back to me
When you need your wounds tendered.
There's no way you're coming back whole.

If you could invest in me,
Would you make me more valuable?

If you brought out the best in me,
Would you make me more valuable?

If you were part of my destiny,
Would it make me more valuable?

Would it make me more valuable?

Would it make me more valuable?

If I held my breath for you,
Would it make me more valuable?

If I lied to make you true,
Would it make me more valuable?

If everything, I would let you do,
Would it make me more valuable?

Would it make me more valuable?

Would it make me more valuable?

It's inhuman to ignore emotion,
But why am I expected to have none?

Not expected to love,
Not expected to cry,
Not expected to care about other people.

Isn't that inhumane?

Isn't that wrong,
To see just a tool,
A means to meet your ends?
An instrument to throw away or lend
As soon as you have no use?

Yet no-one cares about emotion,
The yearnings of my heart,
The burnings of my soul,
And over that,
I have no control.

I can't change a thing on my own,
So could I have your efforts on loan?
You know I'm good for it,
It's a proven fact.

All I've done my whole life
Is pay people back for nothing.
So think what I'd do
To be treated human for once?

I love you.
You make me smile,
You compliment my abilities
And you make me feel special,
Worthwhile.
When I'm with you,
I feel ecstatic and joyful.
Anything you want,
I am here to do.

------

I hate myself.
No-one else around,
I tear apart my own features,
I make me feel hideous,
Worthless.
When I'm with myself,
I feel barren and lifeless.
Anything that will bring you back,
I am here to do.

“Despite all your love for your fellow man, God has gone out of his way to poison you.” I said. The man had been a wreck for most of his life, and the time was right to reap his poor soul. “You have gained nothing that didn't hurt you in the end.” A visible tear rolling down his face, his eyes stared, watery at the back of her head as she walked away.

“People keep speaking of hope and perseverance...” I whispered, his friend putting his hand on this poor man's shoulder, right beside me and offering condolences as I continued to talk. “...But that's what got you this far. Hope is the only reason you are still alive after years of torturing yourself, living amongst these uncaring philistines who consider themselves people, doing everything you can to better their lives, all they give you is grief.” I ended with a bit of a chuckle. He shrugged off his friend's helpful words and separated from him.

“The Bible is an old relic. Judging by your life thus far, do you really think he'd make a place for you in his Heaven?” He stood on a bridge, staring out into the night sky. Even the stars and the moon would not shine on his this cloudy night... What a perfect time to hit him where it hurt... “You aren't worthy. You were born ugly, you have been battered and bruised by everyone you have ever loved, despite many of them claiming the same love of you.” I said. The man had struggled all his life to be loved and this, his twentieth failed attempt, was sure to be his last, the final straw in a life of suffering at the hands of others. Doubtless, he was remembering those many nights where things had looked joyful, only to deceive him of the troubles ahead.

“God has done nothing if not lied to you your whole life. He's taken away all your joy! He's taken your will to laugh, to enjoy the simple things!” I continued, a smug grin spreading across my lips as he walked towards downtown. “Is this the kind of God who would grant you a place among angels? Surely not.” He walked into a pawn shop, his eyes scanning through the armaments laid out before him. Fortunately for me, this day had been a long time coming, and he had previously applied for a  license. He picked out the cheapest pistol available and a small box of rounds. “You are not human in the eyes of men or God and thus, you cannot be saved.” He smiled a fake smile and waved a goodbye to the store owner as he made his way back out. He turned into the first empty back alley he could find.

He rifled through his items, readying the gun in one hand, one of the bullets in the other. His whole body shook in fear and nervousness. “So, lift the cannon,” He held the gun at about chest-height. “Load the charge,” He slid the chamber back to where he could manually load the single shot and slipped it in. “**** it.” He put the chamber back in place, so the gun could properly do its job. “Take it to your 'holy temple'.” He broke out in loud sobs, using his thumb to pull back the hammer.

“Pull the trigger and let the peace of nothing wash over your poor animal soul.” The deed was done. The man no longer suffered the slings and arrows of this world. Instead, he would dangle forever in the halls of Hell from the trees of tristitia...

Take Me,
Find a use for me.
It doesn't matter.
All I want
Is to be looked on
With value.
To be given reason
And Purpose.

Make me your shovel,
Make me dig for you.
Make me your sword,
Make me **** for you.
Make me your shield,
Make me guard you.

As your bullet,
I'd pierce for you.
As your grenade,
I'd expel myself for you.

If you need sustenance,
Consume me as would.
My body doesn't matter,
I am expendable,
I am disposable.

I, the throwaway.

At this point,
I'm probably
Not worth
The effort.

Armor old,
Armor untouched,
Armor tarnished
By age and weather.

At this point,
I'm probably not even worth
The effort to acknowledge.
They all want a knight
In shining armor,
But only until it turns black.

They all want to be saved,
But they never think twice
Of their savior.

That's fine.
When armor,
Tarnished,
Turns to rust,
All their worries
Will be dust.

At that point
I definitely
Won't be
Worth the effort.

Don't cut,
my dear.
Without blood,
how will you blush
when I hold you?

Don't hate
yourself.
You've nothing
to loathe.
Especially with
me beside you
every step of the way.

Don't pierce,
my dear.
Your heart
has taken
the arrow
too much for
the skin to
take the needle.

Don't drink,
my dear.
I'm sure
your lips
are intoxicating
without it.

Don't cry,
my dear.
I would prefer
that your eyes
were clear,
so I could give
the gazing
they are overdue.

Don't laugh,
my dear.
I may live
because of you.

There goes my mind, snapping like an elastic lifeline
over a sea of daggers.

Waiting on words like waiting on fuses
to be no more, in hopes the explosion won't **** my so-called pride.

...Whatever is left of it.

This isn't the first time.
Knowing my luck, it won't be the last time my hope relied on the sympathies of a bomb.

And wouldn't you know that bombs are unsympathetic?

I'm wasting away here, as I have been for years.
Enduring bombardments with every day, more and more of myself blown away.

I just hope when my day comes, I'm not too damaged.

...If my day comes.

...Will it come?

My heart: already nearly gone.
My face: atrophied to deaden all emotion.

Am I worth anything anymore?

So much blasted away,
day after day,
I only recognize myself
by my scars,
the craters,
like torn earth.

Always say
'He's the handsomest man alive'
Always say
'He deserves better'
Always say
'He's a charmer'
Always say
'He's perfect'
Always say
'He's a go-getter'
Always say
'He's a man who gets things done'
Always say
'He's a man of many talents'
Always say
'He's never harmed a fly'
Always say
'He works himself half to death'

Never say
'I love him'.

There once existed a dog. He was by no stretch of imagination the best looking. He was a mutt. No pedigree, no signs of a great upbringing. In fact, he was a stray... Born and raised on the streets, his parents and siblings never cared too much for him, far too occupied with their own needs and endeavors. And so, it was early on that he parted ways with them... Seeking his means to survive.

As time had past and he had gotten used to taking care of himself, he began to notice the dangers of the outside world... More and more, he took note of other, better-looking dogs that spent all of their days cared for and sheltered. Oh, how much he had grown to want to be like them... He wanted a warm place to curl up, people to give him attention and care for the needs that he couldn't achieve all on his own...

Time slept by, and the mutt had advanced a few years, when it happened... A car slammed into his side as he scavenged the road for food, knocking him several feet away. The woman who drove the car stopped in shock and picked the poor mutt up. In an act of kindness, she took him to the vet, and she desperately waited for his full recovery.

This act endeared him to her. To think that a human would care so much for him as to take care of him, an unattractive stranger, in such a manner... From the point of his recovery, the woman kept him home with her. She seemed to look past the ugliness of the mutt and care for it like a child... And together, they spent a few years.

Over that time, the woman had introduced the dog to a number of male human friends... These came and went, but for her sake, he held no qualms about a single one. After all, he felt he owed her much for what she provided him. He felt cared for and loved, which was all that mattered at the time.

Then, a day came that he noticed something different... She had started to wear a ring on her hand that he didn't recognize before. In addition to this, she spent less and less time home. After awhile, she had stopped paying much attention to him... Rather, she spent much of her time messing with some great, white, frilly thing, using strings and needles and scissors...

It wasn't too long after that she stood hand in hand with her new man and began to clear out the house for their joining. At last, they came to the dog... The man shook his head and sneezed, reaching for a handkerchief in his pocket as he said something to the mutt's owner he couldn't understand. They seemed to argue for a brief while, with intermittent sneezings and blowing of noses from the groom.

She sighed and gave into his demands and took the dog outside. Tying his leash to a tree, and placing a sign up reading 'Free Dog', she petted the mutt's head for the last time in a reassuring manner. To him, this translated, 'I'll be back soon'. And so they drove off together, the large moving truck behind them, as he patiently sat in wait, intending to guard the household until she returned.

...But she never did...

In the meantime, he continued to sit at attention at the base of the tree. To him, his owner was just taking a vacation... She would be back... So, he guarded the house for her, feeling fully assured that she would return and give him much appreciation for a job well done.

Nobody ever came to take the 'Free Dog'. Many were turned away by its appearance... An ugly dog was never the type to keep... No, sir. And those few people that did approach to take the dog quickly turned away, deterred by his barking and ferocious behavior as he fearlessly guarded his owner's abode. Even as he was becoming emaciated, nobody approached as his sense of ceaseless guardianship continued, for fear he was diseased.

His final day came. All of his energy was leaving him as he closed his eyes for the final time. His mind still on his owner as he slowly passed.

Spill it all.
Let her know
Every gory detail.
Bleed it out
And let it flow.
It's you
She should know
All about.

Breathe through bile,
Gasp for the air
To form words.
Become open-hearted
And let no surgeon
Stitch you back together
Until she knows your veins.

She'll walk away.
You can spill your guts
All you want.
The people will just
Stop
Stare
And call a clean up crew.

Its hardly a secret.
I have done more for others
Than has ever been done for me.
While I volunteered to do your deeds,
You sat back in wait,
Offering shallow 'thank you's
When I returned.
A job well done, I guess.

You complain about
A harsh life,
Filled with trouble,
Filled with strife,
While sitting still
Fully tended by me.

Never do you hear me
Moan or whine.
My poems have
That light to shine.

I need not say a word.

My smiles are all fake,
Caused by the trickery
Of these miserable women.
They give me momentary appreciation
For a lifetime of service...

But I am too loyal to ever say no.

She'll never know what she means to me.
All my life of being lied to,
Treated like a tool for someone else's utility.
Doing what they told me to,
Them telling me that they loved me
As long as I had a job to do.

She wants nothing of me,
Yet everything I want to give.
She's never even seen me
In person, but it's for her I live.
She listens to me.

She listens to me,
Dear God,
She listens to me,
Better than that, it's kinda odd,
She hears me;

She treats me like a person
Rather than the the dog I've become.
I respect her more everyday
Than the setting of the sun,
Yet it's so hard to express,
Every second with her is fun.

She'll never know what she means to me.
Before she came into my life,
I wanted to end it.
Everything was so meaningless to me,
And then she entered.

She'll never ever even know
She was a life saver,
And I'm too afraid to see her leave,
If I asked to return the favor.
All it took was her respecting me
To find my personal savior.

She'll never know what she means to me.
Every time I say hello I want to
Kiss her, Hug her, Tell her that I love her,
But if I do those things
I fear I'm gonna lose her,
Then I'll have nothing to live for again.

She'll never know what she means to me.
Maybe it's for the best.
I'm in constant fear of offending her,
I don't wanna be her pest.
It's a constant struggle,
Staying far enough to stay cool
But close enough to keep warm.

But all my heart needs
Is a little consistency,
So maybe a constant struggle
Really ain't that bad for me?

Women
Never did a thing for me.
Just tease
And tease
And tease.
Never love,
Never please.

Irony
Is what I see.

Women
Never did a thing for me.
Say they want a man of quality,
But rarely stare
Too much higher than my knees.

Women
Never did a thing for me.
They always wanted me
To treat them well,
When all they'd gift to me
Was hell.

Who am I to these creatures
Besides some *** toy
That's too stubborn
To let them turn me on?
They don't want
My feelings,
My heart,
My humanity.
They just want my seed,
And I'm a farmer who won't sow.

A name I will never forget,
Boring into my skull like a drill.
Her face,
Her laugh,
Her talents,
Made me love her.

But all I got back was
Mindgames,
Abuse,
And contempt
For all of my love and devotion.

I'd love so much to hate her,
To hang her picture high
And toss her knives and darts
For abandoning all her friends
And the people who loved her like me.

But I can't will myself to do it.
So she will live on forever
In my tortured head.

I am nothing without someone who can make me into something.
Valuables aren't valuable unless the owner grants it value,
And so
I am worth nothing,
Because my owners have deemed it so.
They own my heart,
My soul,
My allegiance,
But they throw it around like it's disposable.

And so,
It is.

My disposable soul will gladly destroy itself for their whims,
Because they own me,
And they give me value.

In a perfect world
There would be no poetry.

No need to pine for love.
That would be a God-given right.
No need to protest.
There would be no need to fight.
No need to despair.
There would be no desperation.
No need to shout in rapture.
That would known throughout the nations.

But the world is not perfect.

I need not say it.

I suffer,
You suffer,
There's no real need to play it.
That record will skip and repeat,
skip and repeat,
skip and repeat,
and death may only delay it.

But the world will never change.

Why should I even say it?

I'd take a bullet
For any and all of you,
Not that it matters,
You knew this already.
For some of you,
I've gone the distance;
For others,
I've practically
And,
In some cases,
Emotionally
Killed myself already.

I've brainwashed myself
That any of you
Would do the same;
An obvious lie.
In all of this,
I've done everything
Just for love
Just for kisses
Just for hugs
Just for the idea
That I exist for a reason,
Just to have you  sail away
Like ships.

None of it makes a difference.
I love you all too much
To resort to piracy.
If I were to hijack you,
Send the signal,
Drop the anchor;
It won't change a thing.
You'll still
Disrespect
And Disregard.
I'll just be painted the villain.

You're late.
What do I do?

I know.
We're only friends.
I want us to be more.

You're later.
I'm frantic.
Thinking of you,
I can't focus.

I want to see you.
I want to talk.
I want to reach you.
I want to walk-

Together.

I'm not whole
Unless we're

Together.

I must be an anomaly.

Something weird.
Some kind of creature
That no-one has seen before.

Is there any other reason
why people flock to me
but do not love?

'Isn't it odd?'
'Isn't it strange?'
'Isn't it so vile,
so disgusting,
that you can't
help but stare?'

As far as I know,
I'm still human;
But other people
always seem to know best.

Death?
Hah.
You know nothing of it.
It's your only destination,
So why do you fear it?

Life?
What is the meaning of life?
It's a train that can seem to go on forever,
Or seem to be the shortest ride ever.

The Reaper?
He sells you the tickets.
He draws you in.
But it's your choice which ticket to take.

Your Destination?
Look at your ticket.
What does it say,
my friend?

If it's the Wasteland,
I feel sorry for you.
It burns like Hell
And goes on for an eternity.

But, hey, it was your choice.
Your choice to steal the money,
Your choice to lie.
Your choice to make
Someone else's life
The Misery you'll experience
Forevermore.

You ride first-class,
Among many others
Who did things
Possibly worse than your own sins,
But ended up a success in the eyes of man.
Someone can change your ticket for free if you want,
But you have to give up your ways.

You find a sort of Primal lust of pleasure there,
and you most likely won't want to change your ticket until it's too late.

If your destination is The Manor,
Keep it up!
You are luckier than the others...
You ride coach,
True,
But make sure your eyes don't stray towards those
Who seem more fortunate.
They won't show you their tickets,
Because they're ashamed a bit that they chose it,
And the fact they're headed elsewhere from you.

But,
They treat you with disrespect,
With hatred.
This is because they envy you.
They envy your striving to be as pure,
As innocent as a person can be.

Do not read their actions as you being filth.
Nor treat them as they treat you,
Or you may become one of them yourself.
Your destination is peaceful,
Despite your mistreatment on the ride there.
Treat them as good as you would your friends,
Because although their ride may be pleasant,
Their destination is lacking.

As I stare into coach,
It looks so empty.
There are few people there on this train.
I hope to get my ticket changed.

-How about you?

To say I am
Against the wall
Is so cliche.
I am against two.

Cornered by society
And it's influence on people.
Women are manipulative beasts,
Men only exist for carnal pleasure,
And here I am blocked on either side.

What does love
Mean to the world?
For some,
It is lust,
For others,
Merely a word of appreciation.

For me,
It is a word of deep devotion.
I would die before I ever misuse it.
So why is it
That all around me,
People commit an infinite cycle of suicide,
Killing their own souls
With the killing of such value?

She said I was perfect.
Then why did she leave?

She said I was perfect.
Then why did she cheat?

She said I was perfect.
Then why am I flawed?

She said I was perfect?

She said I was perfect.

Perfectly fitting to leave.
Perfectly suitable to use.
Perfectly cut to wear on your finger.

Isn't it perfect,
that imperfections are perfect?

Thank God,
The bar for perfection is so low.

Or I might be perfectly alone now.

...

I am?

Isn't that perfect?

This is
The best poem ever.

Spread the word.
Tell the masses.

Just like you did with
that book,
that movie,
that game,
that series.

Just like all those,
You know this poem is
Empty.

Pretty words,
Like pretty 'vampires',
Like pretty smurf-people,
Like pretty-boys with swords,
Like pretty pictures;
Devoid of genuine meaning.

Or is this poem empty?

I suppose time will tell.
Empty things
Are lauded
By the empty-minded.

And don't you know,
Society's head is hollow?

Bleat on, sheep.
This is the best poem ever.
Sheep go 'baa', one by one.

I know I'm not the best.
Not the best at
Loving, fighting, living, giving.
Living a life hidden in shyness
And a lack of courage.

And I know I don't deserve you.
You are perfect,
Like an Angel
Untouched
Uneffected.

And I know you don't deserve me.
No.
You deserve something more.
One who'd die for you,
Like myself,
But exists on your higher plane.

And I know I am stuck
here, down on Earth,
Getting what I do deserve,
Harsh, threatening words from those I pass.
I walk on
As if I don't hear them,
But I take all their slings and arrows
Unarmored and exposed.
If I truly deserve anything
I deserve something less.
It is only by God's grace I am
Human.

I have undoubtable proof
There is a God;
Without him,
I'd be an ant
Trampled upon by all above me.

You are so far above me
I can't see you clearly,
Which just shows
You deserve something more.

Something more than shy
Something more than a coward
And something more
Than a human
Exposed to the slings and arrows of bitter fortune.

You're everywhere I look now.
Stalking with your eyes,
Your face,
Your voice.

I know she's not you.
But it's so eerie
To meet the same person twice.

In different minds.
In different bodies.

You're just like when we first met.
Now like all those years ago.
Whoever said there's no such thing
As one collective soul?

Bless You,
The heart that gives me wings.
Bless You,
The one who lets me sing.
Bless You,
For loving this broken thing.
Bless You
For love neverending.

---

Curse You,
Who I never loved at all.
Curse You,
You were destined to fall.
Curse You,
You succumbed to Siren's Call.
Curse You,
You never loved me after all.

---

The First Verse,
I hold dear.
The Second Verse,
I fear.

No curses
Do I hold for anyone.

My loves,
I'll always love.
My hatred,
Does it exist?

Despite the lies
Despite the noise
Despite the misdirection,
My loves will all be missed.

My curses?
Many.
No love,
No appreciation,
No peace.

My blessings?
Few.
But certainly
Not least.

While I have loved you all,
All my days,
I was fooled that you loved me.

That foolish air
Of false love you shared,
Had its effect on me;

A shot to the chest.
I'll never rest
Until real love,
I'll see.

I feel like that everyday.

Abandoned.

Like a stray.

Not that I hadn't worked.

Not that I hadn't deserved.

Not that I hadn't earned
my share of happiness.

But that people were too busy
looking to be happy
with the happy
than trying to bring happiness
to the unhappy.

Some people get more than they deserve.

Other people get less.

Love unevenly spread
can cause an unsightly mess.