Stand tall, and dont fall,
when the world pushes you over te edge,
grab the ledge,
and then crawl,
back up,
back in,
to the world u r thrust in
I Doubt that death is better,
cause i hope you know,
life is what you need to show, show it whos boss,
kick it in the ass,
hit the dirt with its face,
make it eat the grass,
and worship u as its master

What is a poet?

Is it a writer who rhymes
in perfect time

Or a person who captures a moment
like a sunset with a crisp breeze to calm the humidity
with streaks of a cool yellow, and a dimmed down orange
light pinks and wispy clouds
in the dimming light

But what is a poet?

Without a pen and paper to capture their words
or a mouth to speak them
or a mind to think them

What is a poet?

without a life
without a story
without love or misery
without pain
without smiles

Is it a tortured soul or a happy idiot?

No, a poet is a poet.
With a mind to think and a soul to speak.

I was there from the time you were born. I stood in
the delivery room, staring down at you before you
could even open your eyes to see me. Your
parents, relatives and doctors couldn’t see me
there, in the corner, watching you with cloudy eyes,
but I was there from the time you were born.

And I followed you home.

I was with you always, your constant companion.
You played with your toys alone while I stared from
all angles in nearby mirrors; my matted, clotted
hair with oily sweat that hung off my dented
forehead like glue. I was always your constant
companion, drifting behind your mother’s car on
your ride to preschool. You alone in the bathroom,
but I was on the other side of the door, wind
whistling through the bruised hole in my throat. My
arms twisted and hanging in their sockets as I
stood hunched on the other side of the shower
curtain. I wait and follow you. I follow and drift
behind you.

I’m not seen. I’m almost not-there in light. You
never saw me that morning as I sat across from
you at the breakfast table, a shiny red clot hanging
from an empty tooth socket as I gaped grotesquely
at you. I wonder sometimes if you know I’m there. I
think you are aware, but you’ll never understand
just how close I am.

I spend hours of your day doing nothing more than
breathing in your ear.

Breathing – gagging, really.

I crave to be close to you, to always wrap my
crippled arms around your neck. I lie near you ever
single night, cloudy eyes staring at your ceiling,
underneath your bed, at your sleeping face in the
dark.

Yes. You caught me staring occasionally. Your
parents came running down to your room one
night when you screamed. You were just beginning
to talk, so you were only able to cry out “Man! Man
in my room!” You thought you’d never forget the
sight of me, with my collapsed jaw hanging to my
chest, swinging back and forth. I sank back into
your closet and your mother was unable to see me
though you pointed and pointed and pointed. You
thought you’d never forget when they left that
same night. You saw the closet door crack so
softly and me crawling across the floor to your bed
on all fours, shambling in jerking movements as I
pushed myself under your bed on disjointed limbs.

You learned a new word for me: boogeyman. Not
quite the monster you thought I was. I’m just
waiting and following you always, touching your
face with my knotted fingers as you sleep.

You’ll see me again soon. Any day now, I’m
coming, blunt and brutal. One day you’ll walk
across the road and – I believe I’ll plow into you
with loud roar and a screech.

You rolling on the pavement, rolling under wheels,
bluntforce metal fenders and my fingers touching
your face again and again.

As you stare up from the cold pavement with
cloudy eyes; your matted, clotted hair hanging in
your face and your jaw unhinged and swinging to
your chest.

You’ll see me approaching.

No one else will see me. You will stare past them
into my eyes and I’ll leer down at you. For the first
time in our life, something like a smile will come
over my face. You’ll swear you’re looking into a
mirror as clotted red bubbles from our mouths.

I’ll lean down, past the doctors and the oogling
people and pick you up in my crooked arms.

Our faces will touch. My wings will unfurl. And then
you’ll have to follow me.

And I am always with you.

I am your guardian angel.

I'm tired of living my life taking orders from fate in a language I cannot comprehend let alone understand
It's too intricate and complicated to start to untangle all the excuses we're using to confuse things
I can find momentary happiness at the end of the bottle and some solace in the pills
I can lose myself to the pain anger and passion when I take possession of another soul that succumbs
To all of the darkness and silly rigidity of all of my sorry dreams and pathetic hopeful fancy
You thought it was love when I choke fucked you until you came like stars singing and fading
I just thought of someone else I love hate can't have to hold and humiliate
I guess it's about the same thing

Even though we're worlds apart
Even though I think you're too crazy
I still find myself smiling at you on the telly
Laughing your heart out over the silliest things

I never know what colour your hair nor nails will be
The tight slacks and nose-ring you love so much
I would certainly curl my lips and pull a frown  
When I Contrast those with my shirt and tie

Your love for life just shines through
One look at you and the world's a nicer place
It's people like you who make others smile
That deserve to be happy contented and blessed

What I see is what you show the world
I don't know what goes on behind the lights
I don't know how you are when you're alone
I don't know if you ever carry a surly look

I sometimes think it would be nice to see you
Without the leggings, the painted nails, the crazy hair
But then I also think I don't want to
So I can always smile when I see you :)

9 cigarettes,
9 hours.
And this love dies with my last pack.
For I cannot let,
The venomous things in life,
Take mine.
I will be poisoned no longer.
For this time...
Mind outsmarts,
The heart.