I Have Issues,
I'll Admit,
I Have Issues,
Im Trying Not To Get Split,
In Two,
I Love You,
And You,
And You Too,
But That Doesnt Mean I Don't Have Trust Issues

I Am Green Eyed Monster,
No Not Jealousy,
I'm Running On A Wheel Like A Hamster,
I Have Empathy,
But Im A Little Bit Of A Disaster,
I Don't Trust Anyone I Meet,
No Matter What Our Chemistry,
I'm Sorry But I Can't Compete,
Because I Wander Around Hopelessly,
Around The World,
Feeling I Don't Belong,
But I'm Only One Of 3 Billion Girls,
So Maybe I Do Belong

I Was Trusting Before,
I Got Slammed In The Face By An Opened Door,
I Thought I Was Able To Stand By Keeping Busy,
But Honestly I'm Still Dizzy,
I Was Welcomed In,
But My Acceptance Was A Sin,
My Thoughs Fly Like The Speed Of Sound,
I'm No Longer On The Ground,
Oh Poetry,
Let Me Feel Your Therapy,
I'm Sorry For My Issues,
If Your Upset Grab A Tissue,
But Inside I'm Just Afraid I'll Lose You

My life consist of complex inginueity striving to be original but molding to the harshness of what the world is doing to me. Am i wrong for contemplating my lifes decisions. Because this isnt the way things where suppost to come out in my own depiction on the out come of my life. Maybe its my thoughts that are making me insane since i constanly think all i am is trash but theres a saying one persons trash is another treasure not sure if weather to believe it or not because woman come and go i just dont measure up to the dream guy. Maybe its my icebox heart that lets them see the coldness in my eyes gazing into theres filling false hopes of prosper and love each seem to be lies. Just to watch them break down in tears with no remorse when i see them cry since id rather not catch feelings being to scared to see where true love coulf take me honestly i dont know why. Im screaming in rage from the inside like im traped in a four corner room staring at walls hyperventilating unable to get out im balled up  feeling trapped im at a loss. Maybe you the reader cant understand what i mean maybe you can i feel like my life has been a bunch of ups and downs more downs then ups i was just a accidental nut that swam into the womb since my fathers pull out game wasnt fast enough now im stuck with the harsh reality of a cold world that beats me down after i get back up when will enough be enough maybe i need to find love and stop trying to hide the void wheres my diamond in the rough maybe I'm thinking again to much enough is enough

Driving down a dark road, windows down, music in the background. You take my hand and kiss it. I smile at you. You smile at me. Lightning flashes behind us, thunder cracked. I do not jump, I am safe with you. The smell of rain is in the air, mixed with your musk. The smell makes me happy, excites me and anticipation fills my entire body. Spending time with you always makes me soul smile.

Dry as a waterless well.
Dry as a rainless desert.
Dry as a withered bone.
Dry like most of Jeff Dunhams jokes.
Dry like a summer day.

My thoughts run dry.
I have no more thoughts.

shadows collapse under the weight of their owners.
a day-to-day routine controls all that i am, and i cannot break free.
i approach every situation with a feeling of regret and longing for more.
somewhere, i'm fine, but here i am a mess.
time moves like a slug, but sometimes it's a cheetah.
and sometimes it stops and sits still, leaving you alone with your thoughs.
dreams are the only real escape from life, you know.
but my dreams are littered with death and sadness, loneliness and hate.
everything that's present in the real world finds its home in my head.
there's nothing i can do but stand still as time moves in an attempt to gather myself along the way.
coffee-scented breath draws me in for a kiss.
the caffeine i'm addicted to keeps me going more than the motivation of happiness does.
why am i here? better yet, when am i here?
because i'm certainly somewhere else right now.

What a mess I have become.
Torn, wet,cold and crippled.
Frozen lips, blue as the sky and as dead as the grave.
Cut and staind with blood I look down to see a reflection of myself through a ****** pool...
I scream out but only the distant abyss of the canyon can hear and reply its echos which send the beasts of the wilderness a stray.
My legs tremble to the powerful might of the shakes from this scared earth, I grab at it but too late to feel it, I slip sending me to the ground laying my hair down to my knees...
I hope that there is always a light in the night but I guess in this nightmare there is only a faceless darkness that always claws at my feet...
I reach out and dig my hand into the earth, running my hand to the nib ripped and bleeding...
I was once thoughs clouds that darken the earth but now thoughs clouds darken me...
I make one more attempt to rise but the ground trembles before me and I start to slip once again..
and grab the edge like a lioness would grab its prey's neck.
It was not enough and my body goes limp and my fingers go numb and they break loose....
At that instance I felt a presence of warmth crash on top of me like a wave of warmth entangled around my wrists, knocking my cold and limp body into the side of the cliff and starts to reel me upwards.....
Feeling the ground beneath my feet, safely bringing me back to where I started once again....
ac/10/24/09

I want to cry
I want to scream
I want to tell you mostly
I hate that I'm so afraid of everything
I hate that you're the one thing I want the most but can't have.
I wish I were strong enough to say no to you
I wish I could believe my own lies I use to cover up the pain you left
I need to move on says my head
I need to hold on says my heart
I need to decide says my mind
I want to hurt you
I want to be with you
I want this nightmare to be over
I wish I could make things they were before you
I wish I could change time
I wish I could change you
I wish I could have hurt you before you hurt me
I need you out of my thoughts
I need you out of my heart
I need to start doing things for me
I hate that I gave you something I can never have back
I hate that I wasted it with you
I'm tired of hoping aimlessly for you
I'm tired of wanting something I can't have
I'm tired of hurting me for things that aren't my fault
Funny though how you never once said sorry for hurting me,
for breaking me,
for not loving me

Razor blade lullaby,
Come kiss my pain Good-Bye,
You're my only friend on this cold dark night.

Razor blade lullaby,
I listen to you when I can't sleep at night,
You take away all my fright.

Razor blade lullaby,
I always keep you by my side,
Just incase I start to feel like suicide.

Razor blade lullaby,
Darken those thoughs I think inside,
Numb the pain that I can't hide.

I am not a morning person
Sun glaring through the curtains, birds chirping on the tree
Such a pretty sight i know, but you know whats prettier? Sleep.
Wake me up when the sun's shining and i. Will. ****. You.
Coffee doesnt do the trick, neither does breakfast
so just let me sleep in — it'll do everyone a favor
"good morning!" Says the starbucks barista who trys to make conversation with me and all the while i am wishing for my drink to come faster as to prevent any further contact with any human being
Good night

I am not a hugger
Being that close to someone makes me cringe
Maybe im just not all about that intimacy thing and showing affection
Also have you ever hugged a girl?
You feel their ***** against you especially when they hug suuuper tight
Or maybe im just really afraid to let my guard down
Which is hard because when people know you dont like hugs
and you actually need a hug
No one will give you a hug and you just learn to **** it up and accept that the only hugging youll ever get is from your teddy bear at night

I am not a good conversationalist
As i have concluded and confirmed with my friends
It is hard to keep a conversation with me
I think its because most of the actual conversation is happening in my mind and my mouth cant follow through
I get scared to speak most of my thoughs because im scared of what other people think
And that leads me to not saying anything at all and that leads them to think i am shy and awkward
So no matter if i say anything or i dont, i will be judged

And theeeen i met him
And he was everything i wasnt

He was a morning person, a hugger, and the best person you can spend hours talking to

Suddenly
I began getting up earlier than usual
I started to eat breakfast and have an actual conversation with laughter at 8 in the morning
I say good morning back to the starbucks barista and find that morning interactions with human beings arent so bad after all

He gave the best hugs — the ones that make you feel warm, safe, and protected you just wanted to hibernate in his arms
When i feel his muscles squeeze me, i feel my sadness squeeze out of me little by little
And the best part? He doesnt have *****

He is the number one person who can hold a conversation with anyone
He always finds something to talk about
And makes the worst jokes
I feel comfortable with him
Like i can say anything and he'd understand

So thank you, because of him, i am a morning person, a hugger, and a good conversationalist

How do we slowly die again and again and again?
How do we seperate from ourselves repeatedly?
Why do my tears never feel new?
They're the same every week, every few days.
Maybe my love isn't enough.
Maybe my motives are lost.
Maybe I'm letting go.
Maybe my thoughs are wandering to parts they dont belong.
When have my intentions ever been wrong?
Why do I feel so sad about us?

you walk across my mind
stomping memories fleet through me
pulled in two different directions
inner conflict
you rest in my imagination
just a small figmant of the truth
you bask in my inner light
absorbing all that you can
foreboding dreams await where you laid
restless night
tryign to slowly ease away from memories
thoughs so haunting
filled with your eyes, your smile, your voice
they say time will heal my brain
but i am permanently indented
you've taken over my head
what more can you conquer
oh wondering soldier
why are you so harsh?
did you already forget
have you truly focused on a different thoguht
am i really jsut the remnants of the past
am i tucked securely where i won't be found
i do believe you to be a liar
oh, love of mine.
forcefully broken, spiratically declined.
tell me whats crossing through your head
what way are you flowing
i used to float beside you
in our wildest dreams we didn't see this coming
oh broken heart!
why was she your answer
she is not your medication, just a fabrication of ones imagination.
i will be the retaliation
i willl not release without war
or should i let you slide through my aura
like water through the word work
i feel hallow
bang on my chest
echo
overwhelming emotion bouncing through me
can you feel my hurt?
i would cast it out
if it wasn't burned and etched so deep.
your words, can't forget.
were you even real?
was love ever true?
i'm torturing myself
while you put on a happy fiscade
but i know YOU
oh yes, i know you more than you think.
and someday you'll come back to me
but these arms will be filled
my thoughts, pure.
my heart will have found its cure
you will be remembered
as my self-inflicted inner suicide
and i will be reborn
reincarnated, refreshed, renewed.
you will not be foregotten
althought i wish time would erase you
but instead
something new will take your place
i will shine and glow
i will burn through your darkness
with happiness and new life
rebirth.
you cannot hold down the sky
even if the clouds and rain must fall
so my addiction,
i've put myself in rehab.
each day gets worse.
before it grows easier
but watch as light transcends from my face
down to my fingers, to my toes, gently glowing without a trace.
i shine in glory
for finally finding the truth
i'm sorry lover,
                         my drug,
                                         partner,
                                                      be­st friend.
each moment is a faded memory.

He's beautiful, I have already mentioned this to him
but I keep on insisting because I think it's not really clear for him yet
that his beauty is both inside and outside

I mean, apart from his noble heart
and niceness befitting of a prince;
apart from his ideas and his way of thinking, his strings of thoughs
that I love to follow and where I also love getting lost in;
apart from the beauty of his likes and loves
(because you are what you love, if after all love transforms you,
and thus I am he and he is I)
even if you took apart all of his being and essence
he would still be beautiful

because he is beautiful, no matter how you see him
although he sees himself and he is not content
he is beautiful in his signature brows
in his shoulders where I anchor and his fingers which I entwine with mine
he is beautiful from the wrinkles in his face and his combed hair
to his feet, wearing shoes two sizes bigger

he is beautiful, no matter how you see him
but he is on his most when he is honest,
when he shows himself weak: in his most pure and human state,
and that usually happens at night,
either with his mind a little blurred by a little alcohol
while his tongue runs and can't say anything but urgent truths,
dyed with that love that not even alcohol can erase;
either in my arms, moved by sweet whispers, his eyes releasing tears
that rise modestly like cotton
but, as they roll, have the shine of a gemstone;
or if not by early morning while we share a single bed,
naked and iluminated by the lights of my alarm clock

he is so beautiful when he lets you see him vulnerable
or he lets you see him in love
or he lets you see him without even noticing that you're seeing him:
he is so beautiful all the time
and he is not content

he tells me he is not content, when his arms hold me tight
and his chest seems sculped exclusively for my hands;
he is not content, my best kept secret,
the boy that looks cute and shy in front of everybody's eyes
and I know in so many different layers;
he is not content being so short and so pale
being that I could use the porcelain analogy to describe his skin,
but his porcelain was adorned with freckles, and marks, and moles
and I have never seen such fine, pretty, warm porcelain
(porcelain is cold and your arms are always warm)

and his dark hair contrasts with his light skin, and his eyes go along:
black lights, stars of Bethlehem that guide the way
to reach to his pink lips that, if you kiss,
you could swear you can find salvation
or a miracle; something strange happens because it's not normal to be moved by such great happiness,
and if his mouth is salvation, the touch of his hands is holy grace

he is not content when I could honor his body
and his spirit and mind,
when my mouth could paint masterpieces in his chest
because he doesn't see shape but I see colours
and I don't know if he believes if god is an artist
but if he doesn't see himself as art, it doesnt matter
since even so, art goes all over himself like a bindweed

since even so, when god said
"let there be light"
I'm almost sure that he was made.

She was a child and broken to, father gone a mom lost to.

All Alone she took on the world.
She was so young and her surroundings misleading she lived a life of crying and pleading.

Friendly faces mostly grown took advantage of her. She had no home.

A home is comfort, a home is love, a home is shelter. And she knew none.

She grew fast, still a kid pretending to have fun with the older worldly kids.
They took her in, what they could, but they to were broken and didn't do much good.

She played house to pass the time, and didn't realize the game was life.

She dabbled in this and she dabbled in that, she didn't realize how lost a person could get.

Years flew by.
Ahh the things she missed, her daughters first period and first kiss.

She was lost... Off the grid.... She was broken, but no longer a kid.

She played house a long time ago long enough for a daughter to know.

She was broken all her life, but during her game of house, before she left, her kids were loved and it was clear
but now she had to escape a new fear.

She was dealt some pretty bad hands and couldn't seem to trust any man.

She stayed lost a good while.

Then one day she came around.
She was grown, smart, and settled down.

Yeah, she was lost far to long, but when she was found she was her, and she was Independent and strong.

She was lost far to long, but it was never to late to be my mom.

I've held her close in my heart, no matter the time or distance apart.

She was my mom, and she was broken. She missed a lot I did to, but her journey wasn't selfish. I now know. She did what she did, cause she was still that kid.

She was broken And frozen in time, broken by all She left behind. Love and drugs, deceiving friends and long long nights she prayed would end.
I was angry when she left, I was broken within.
But she was lost, she had no home. For years she was all alone.

It took me a while to catch on, that our lives were lives that made us strong.

She was lost, but she was my mom.

She was lost and all alone, but now she's found and has a home.

She found herself and found me to. Even though there's no rewinds we have something special and real. A love that a mothers and daughters feel.

There's no blame, no lost time just a mother daughter love that's hard to find.

Now I'm a mom, that took a different path. A stronger mom because of our past.
God they say gives us only what we can bear. My moms been home for many years. And now all thoughs struggles and her fears are what's lost, because now she's mom and grandma to,loving, caring and free to.

An uncut diamond is like a person,
The have more flaws than things that
Draw them to other people but
Much a diamond all of us need a jeweler to
Cut away these flaws so we can be seen
For the priceless gems that we are
Here to add beauty to a dark and depressing
World in flames where almost nothing stays the same
But true love and friendships and even thoughs
Are questionable at best

cool
cold
quit
pain
hate
love  
feeling
bleed
more
cold
loveing
blade
****'s
can't
must
again
cool
thoughs
love
feeling
hate
pain
more
times
1000
2000
3000
4000
stop
never
add
keep
hide
lie
metal
friend
wrothless
end
once
again
want
can't
cut
addiction
never
stop
again
end

I contempate, is this my fate?
Nothing comes to mind.
I've lost the light, fallen down,
No hope here I'll find.
No strength remains, in my heart,
There's nothing I can do.
For in the dark, I have lost,
My will to sail this storm through.

They spit on me, with their apathy,
Why can't they understand?
I'm all alone, far from home,
Lonesome broken man.
Inside of me, only misery,
I'm done it's too late.
I'm letting go, breaking off,
Full of fear and hate.

So take your world, take it all,
It is lost to me.
In the cold, my soul unfolds,
This you'll never see.
Broken thoughs, haunt my mind,
There will be no rest,
Is this the end?, surely not,
Mors principium est.

These serene days,
Where blue is the wind's muse
And Red the sea's Fume
Where white covers the skies
And grey, separates the cloud from the sky
These days of rushing hours,
Where Men are saddened from thoughs of yore
And children starving from pains of now

In these solemn days
And harsh nights
I will take my chances
And stand
Stand for what is right
In these days of colors

*Ovi Odiete©

It eats me alive to think
i was given this life
and nothing will be made of it

i waste away hating myself
and wait for the day when people say
“What a shame. Think of what could have been...”

The truth is
this world is not made for us all
and some people are destined to be nothing more than background noise

Across the wasteland children roam
Across the ashes and the foam
Across the parents and the friends.

Trough homes and houses children march
With ignorance and arogance
Across the parents and the friends.

Across the highways and the schools
And their immagination rules
Their thoughs their deeds, their parents and their
freinds.

And in the mind of a desert child
There lives a garden of flowers
And so, he pours the water on the sand.

Across the wasteland children roam
Roam with no reason - to see the world
And so, with morbid look they forward step.

With shining blinks inside their eyes
Walk past dead people - dying souls
The people who ignore a wasteland's child.

And in the mind of an urban child
There lives a legend of the wild
Somewhere between the ruins Deamon lives.

And so in the mind of every boy
There lives a world - a realm unknown
And when we dont believe he runs away

Off to his own world with a sword
Across the wasteland with a word
Of "please",  and tears he hides.

Across the wasteland children ran
Away from ruins and we cant cant
To bring him into world of ours.

So listen parents and the friends
Dont **** those worlds, dont bring the end
Upon the children who the wasteland roam.

If you awaken, this illusion,
and you understand that black implies white,
self implies other,
life implies death,
or shall I say, death implies life,
you can feel yourself.

Many people consider travelling around the world
to be an adventure.
You see some place, the picture is there and that's it.
Where is the adventure there?
Talking to an individual discovering their characteristics,
manners,
thoughs,
patterns,
habits,
lovers.
Unravelling the most mysterious to science and never mentioned in religion-BRAIN.
The best adventure ia having a deep converstation
Caused by unstoppable sensation
To feel someone else's abyss.
Seems like our thoughts are the never ending
And always reacurring treasure we are looking for.
Dig and dig and dig..
Most of them are afraid what are they going to do with so much treasure.
Unable to whield it and create a better future with their vivid imagination
They leave it alone, wondering behind a dark door, locked away in their mind always beeing there for their master-like a ******* dog.
Good thing I am a sinner so my mind doors are black-darknes can't absorb my colored imagination.
No matter how hard you try to hold the door closed, your colors will always try to get out.
You can't run away from who you are.
One shall always strike to unravel him or herself
After all, we wouldn't have exsisted if all our layers were on.
If that is the case, then why am I walking around
Never seeing a person with deep intellectual knowledge ?
Why aren't they asking themselves the major questions?
Why aren't they looking for meaningful lovers?
Why aren't they appreciating the loyal friends?
The ability to learn should have been given to
Snails, they would've been faster in discovering themselves than we humans are.

A thought in the mind with an intuition of the soul.
Why?
Why do we write?
What we write.
When we write.
The cause.
The emotion.
The start of it all.
A large door backed up with emerging traffic.
Are you wanting to let others through?
Revealing your mind,
Your ultimate motive.

Was it euphoria?
That feeling when nothing made you feel higher.
No person or thing could take you down from your throne.
For one moment in time you could pass on that stimulation.
By bringing together, pen and paper,
You've began--
No turning back now.
Your mind-set back to that very moment.

Was it anger?
That feeling when nothing has made you feel so irate.
You've reached your boiling point,
Red with fury.
Your brow out of alignment.
Your utensil lashing out on paper as if it were your own mouth.
Screaming to the world at the top of your lungs.
If only they knew.

Was it nervousness?
That feeling when you just want to crawl up in a ball and die,
Hide back in your little corner.
Just writing about it sends beads of sweat down your forehead.
The time the whole world has eyes on you when your fearful eyes are so very blank.

Was it anticipation?
That feeling when you've almost reached the peak of the plot.
You know it's coming.
Chills are sent down your spine,
Wanting to share this excitement with everone surrounding you.

Was it sadness?
The sorrow, pain, and suffering.
You weep and want others to feel as if they were right there with you.
To build a lasting compassion.
To gain a sense of struggle,
A sense of not knowing if it will ever get better.
To feel for you.
Finding the reason for that long face through your writing.

Was it the kind action of lending a hand?
Through your thoughts,
Your voice on paper.
To touch lives.
To embrace a being without a single touch.
To listen without any attention.
To comfort without showing your physical affection.
That passion.
That motivation.
That satisfaction of someone coming up to you and saying, "Thank you."

Was it your mind purely running wild?
Story after story.
Thought after thought.
Creating characters by the hour.
Minute.
Second.
Its racing had reached no end.
One solution,
Slabbing it all on paper.
Who else to listen, but an audience.
Too many thoughs and ideas to keep inside.
Cerebral overload.

Was it simply an experience?
Yearning for the reader to be right there beside you,
At that very moment in time,
At that place,
With that person,
Saying those things,
With that look upon their face.
That feeling,
In your gut,
With that person,
At that place,
At that moment in time.

Was it knowledge?
To inform the reader possible facts.
Statistics.
Dates.
Times.
Your background.
How you became a writer.

The motivation.
The incentive.
That gut-wrenching feeling,
Deep inside of you,
Screaming to get out.
Pounding the walls of your mind to escape,
To let others in.

What you write.
When you write.
Why you write.
Why?
A thought in your mind with an intuition of your soul.

I stood so firm giving out my speech to people who really inspire to me people who care I felt like I was rare up on the stage and giving condolences to all my fans nice life but would clash wood smooth wooden chair but thoughs going wild on the air drank champagne looking at a crowed all there to celebrate me I new this was the start of something, something very sparky iv never felt so alive it was about time I waked up and shine but would clash wood wearing my Italian suit looking like the person on my mirror wooden door I was trying to open but thoughts all over thr door would this happen...??? Kept asking me questions but I found the answeres while I was celebrating ..

No one understands me
Just get to tell me what I feel
Tell me they're here to help
I'm like a cup of tea
Every bump in the road more Tea escapes
Living on a tilted *****
Running from the water rushing twords me
Falling down the rabbit hole of thoughs
Mad as a hatter is me
Carzy as the chesier cat
Calm as the rabbit
Insane as the red queen
Blood falling from my smiling mouth
Think im crazy
Staying stuck in the moment
Spilling tea on me
Teacup spilling my my brains like boiling liquid
Boiling my skin
Cant let in the light
Blacked out
Never getting out
Teacup spilling

I always said I'm an open book,
I'll tell you anything you wanna know...
Truth is, that book, is only 98% open,
And that 2% that's closed...
Accounts for 200% of what actually goes on in my head,
And about 120% of that 200,
I haven't even figured out yet...
So basically only 80% is possible to get off my chest.
So only 178% of the grand totel of 300%,
Is what you could see of me,
But only if I think you won't **** me over in the end.
And believe me that 122% that's left over,
Unspoken for, weighs more than you can imagine.

I'm not telling you this for pitty,
I'm not sharing the truth,
In the hopes for anything in return.
Cause sometimes, all I need, all anyone needs,
Isn't advice, it isn't pitty, it's not attention,
It's just a nice way of saying,
"Shut up, I'm talking...and I haven't talked, for years."
And all you want, is someone to listen,
Nod their head occasionally.

Cause knowing that someone is listening,
Is the greatest gift, you could ever give someone.

See I've gone long stretches of time,
Not saying a word, just listening.
I care, and I know you won't listen to my advice,
So I sit there, let you bleed your true thoughs,
Till their staining every piece of me.

At the same time, I give up venting.
I keep my mouth shut, so your's can feel better.
But every now and then...
I can't stay silent.
And that 178% I do show usually,
Has dropped to 50%.
Unable to emotionally breathe,
I get to the point where all I want to do,
Is scream, put a hole threw the wall, and let out the pain.

But I don't, I sit down with a good friend,
And say, "Don't speak, just listen.
I don't want advice, I don't need your opinion
I just need to get out some ****."
And unleash the full 300% at 100mph.

People say I shouldn't just let my emotions "volcano" over,
But I think it works...
Cause everytime I bite my lip and listen,
I feel better.
Yeah, I'm suppressing my own ****,
To help you unpack yours...
But sometimes, what you say,
Is what I need to hear.

Cause no matter how much you add up to in baggage,
We all carry an insane amount of ******* on our shoulders.
It's why we have each other.
You pat my back, and I'll wipe your tears,
And together, we'll make it through.

She walks with grace and beauty, her dark rose colored dress flows behind her on the ground.
She has no idea where she is going or why.
The day has just begun and she is already over taken with emotions, she hates it.
She doesn't want to feel anymore, it means she has to care, and she does not want to.
Why should she when thoughs around act so stupid, they seem so lost.
she sighs" emotions are stupid, I wish they were gone!"
She walks on for many hours leaving people and places behind, feeling no regret or no lose.
She carries with her a sword her father had and a blanket her mother made and a necklace of lost love.
She would walk till she fell or fell sleep on her feet.
Nothing means anything anymore.
All is lost, there is no meaning.
2006 ac

Her gaze where utopia is reality took him to journey into the world of souls and fields of virginal innocence to renew his spiritual memory and memories of her.
Her scent like daybreak of heaven is the promise of idyll and sphere of sturdast.
Her touch is liberation from villainous demons of fears, insecurities and delusions of his past lives.
Her kiss like revelation of harmony and loveliness of the universe evoked lost particles of his soul to live life dancing on wings of forgiveness in the outer space with full moon after losing sense in the midst of deadly kisses of other women to appreciate immortality of her lips breathing for him.
He wanted to light stars in her heart but gave her hell fires desiring days and nights of lost womb calling it destiny and not listening of silent whispers between her words.
Now, he is arguing with himself about her.
Now, he is arguing with God asking of cosmic consciousness to unite separated hearts and souls.
Now, he is giving everything up to Universe knowing that time heals wounds.
Now, he is begging for humility to apologize for his sins she dispersed by her bright presence in his lunar thoughs.
She is intoxicating wine in his veins calling her back home.
She is intense, caressing redness of his prayers kissing her starry hair with invisible touch in her dreams to make her feel safe.
She is music unknown to any instrument heard only by senses of his soul to escape the grayness, flatness and prose of life. He is her pure, rapt sound.
She inspired him giving thanks for the sun, soft slippers and taste of tea.
She is conscious energy compensating his incarnations with lilac garden on the moon cherished by angels.
He made her hopes cold like snowy storm to bring her bouquet of springs.
He starts and finishes every prayer with her name.

With porcelain hands,
She holds the stars of heaven,
With which she draws lines so heavy,
So blackened and bold,
Even the strongest fall at sight,
Her tears are heavy rain,
That drown every soul in range,
Flooding hearts and minds,
With the dark oceans of her thoughs,
Washing out the sunshine and smiles,
Bringing only sorrow and despair,
All beauty is overwhelmed by her tragedy,
With her, there is nothing but the hollow sunrise,
Barely shining beyond the infinite horizon

Hey! You got mail
And I hope that without fail
That this makes your day
Because this is a unique way
of having a conversation.
Something of our own creation
to actually put pencil to paper
to let thoughts form and thoughs taper
It's more permanent than a text
because you won't read it this day or the next
it's the delayed gratification
the building anticipation
the surprise of not getting a bill
that makes writing to you such a thrill

the snowflakes fall from the sky and they sparkle like diamonds

the light from the streetlight glints off their frozen figures

nights like these, walks like these

my frozen breath coming out in clouds around my head left to mingle with my thoughs

the soundtrack of my life plays through the speakers in my ears and my footsteps sound on the slate rock path

something in this night is just beautiful.

cycling thoughs of insanity
my mind moves thinks faster than i could speak
see things done more than one way
i think of all the possiblies
right or wrong play it safe
no means yes
yes means no
only you know what feels right
you know you way will work best
other might not agree
the truth they fail to see
you said and have done it but thats not enough
you comeback to where it all starts
trying to remain the same not fall apart
the cycle must be broke and the world will feel right
change will come the chain of sanity breaks
no more hate hapiness and the world feels just right
the thoughts start again cycling over and over again

writing is writing about nothing
nothing is writhing
so just started with nothing
and write it
like a sea of flames ******* to my mindless thoughs
life is nothing more then hell on ice
Love is something we all don't always need
nothing is the way we live our lives without knowing it
flames burn up in my heart will eat up my heart
writing just moves my throughs
the unknow lines of the pagar befor me
I can't stop, writing is my life, my life is writing
I will never stop

I write a hundreds poems per year
My mind explode in words every day
But still I havn't got the point
The point of the poems I write
Cuz what is point of poetry?

Is it to get followers and be famous ?
Is it for processing your thoughts
Is it to compete with friends who write?
I dont know? I just write, like right now
I just write all my thoughs down everyday
but why?

The weight lifted of my shoulders,
Like a gym session,
In heaven,
The clouds were proud.

In essence the lesson never learnt.
Fingers burnt and fractured fingernails.

Fairytalesand horror stories.
A never boring oxymoron.

Who's wrong?
Those stubborn hoofs,
They came through the roof.
Valiant stallion,
That's you,
In a horseshoe.

Nailed to my soul.
My swan song consequence.

We set fire to the same fence
We made sense and perched upon on those past nights.
A past life maybe.

You shared your last bite,
With me.

The last laugh was distinctly humbling,
Your tumbling grumbling,
But still wondering if I was alright.

You saved my life every night.
Welcomed in your humble arms.

You never turned me away,
You never turned your back to me.
Actually,
You had my back,
And I had my backpack.

No questions asked,
No matter what those housewives said.

The last laugh is yet to come,
My beautiful friend.

We grew together -
Jekyll and hide,
Dumb and dumber,
Profound the otherside.

They were never inclined
To try to understand.

Why try?
Gossip and tactics underhand.
They wonder why we turn the cheek,
To the otherside..

The envy is greener in the troubled mind.
A kid ****** up and they wonder why.

There wasn't a second in time,
You second guessed.
Why?

You understood through brotherhood,
The love is unconditional
And I miss you more than a grown man should.

Anxiety consumed the bones in my body,
Consumed in shanty tombs,
You made room in your room,
For me.

Time after time.

I broke through the otherside,
You took your time,
Looking at you live,
I'm not remotely surprised.

The sun hides sometimes,
But we shine,
We shine.

Thee beeline sting my eyes,
We stayed awake for days,

2 am toast again,
Covered in butter,
Missing loafs, just crusts.
Soaked in brotherhood,
It's all good.

To toast again,
The best man.
The best laid plans in a world I was yet to understand.

I was underhanded,
And it haunts my thoughs,
The blood on my hands is more vibrant today than it was ever was before.

I made a home on your floor,
But I  endeavoured for more.

Hale stones weathered storms,
A scapegoat from Wythenshawe.

Immature to the core,
A star,
Sailor,
Surfing clouds of smoke,
Me, you, Treeman and Maz.

Four to the floor.

My selfish insistence,
Envies the distance between is.
Everyday,
Tomorrow
And yesterday.
I made all my mistakes in that safe place haven,
You gave me.
With mutua respect x

You never looked down on me,
Whilst I was down on my luck.

I'm looking up to you now,
I hope your proud,

And that's just the bad times,
A pastime -
Alas,
We laughed until sunrise -
Sometimes it was hard to stop.

Those moments locked in a treasure chest
And I cough with a heavy chest,
But only you and I hold the key to those stupid little memories.

Until the cemetery and four feet deep,
Thank you for making me believe in the fellow human being

My heart stopped as I gasped for air

At first silence...

Followed by an uncontrolled cry

It must have been torcher for thoughs who heard the cry

They know to...

That there's nothing anyone can do

Rip out my heart, please

I can't take the pain inside of me

What should I do when there's nothing I can do

I'll hold it in, so I can think

I know there has to be something.....

There's has to be

I prayed like I do every day, but today when I prayed...

I prayed questioning God...

I prayed asking why, instead of being greatful
I prayed for strength for many but most for her

This poem speaks of my pain

And without words my deepest fear

But this poems not mine

Because I could never love,
or cry out for me
like I did for her

As I write I hold myself from from weeping

I write with a lump in my throat and a pain stricken heart
A mask of strength on my face and so many words inside

Help me...
help her please...

And as I write I still can't believe...

And as I write I'm strong
I hold back most of my tears...

and put an end to this poem...