I wonder if god is watching me.
I wonder what he thinks of my choices.
At least I’m plastering ink over my scars, at least this pain is creative.
At least I stay away from the bottles and the pills lately, at least my monsters and me share a clear head now.
I could have been dead by now, wouldn’t have changed much to you.
You only answer my screams with silence, bouncing wall to wall. Deafening.
You, this mythical engineer.
You bringer of life, orchestrator of pain.
You left me, clawing, moaning, bleeding.
You could have saved me.

I wonder if god ever watches me, I wonder if he’s proud of me.

I know
You care about me
10 more people do
Yet I can't get rid
Of this feeling
Of doom

I know
I have you
10 more people too
Yet I can't find a person
To talk to
late at night

Goodbye Poetry

I went in the search of humanity,
But the only thing I could find
was indignity.

Then I went in the search of happiness,but everywhere I
Could find sadness.

Finally I went in search of God,
But the people I met were all fraud.

Then I decided to first change
Myself, now people find humanity,
Happiness and God in myself.

Devastation

Noun

I Inspecting the wreckage,they say it’s a good thing you weren’t there, that you didn’t suffer. You bite your tongue. They do not know what good is.This is not it.


II  You feel free. You know you shouldn’t, that it’s wrong. You smile anyway.


III You suddenly feel like you are drowning and no one is noticing. You cover your face and begin to cry.

There's quite a lot that I could put to words.
And to be fair subliminals aren't my forte.
But consider today a different story.
There's just so much I'd want to relay.
But so little ways to convey.
Without getting in trouble that is.

I'm not saying much,
But I'm saying everything all at once.
Can you tell I'm subbing you?

I made Pain my friend,
but it left me too.

I didn't want it to end,
but it had better things to do.

A funny thing about forever..
--it never, ever ends..

and so   neither will we.

The spirit is free from
all of this-- it will  always
remain lit..

only the flesh goes dark  
as we  leave  its earth-laden husk, behind..

But the core-heart of Love's true ache  will always,
always Remain.

Not everything needs a poem
Sometimes
it’s already

good enough.

A true artist
Uses experience as it's greatest ink

Alongside with it's color of emotions

from the day were born we have to live an grow

find the road through life as on with life we go

there are many corners that we have to turn

there are many things that we have to learn.



there are many paths that we have to take

as our way through life we begin to make

there will be decisions that you must decide

as you walk through life thats so big and wide.



something we all do a journey we must take

from the day were born its a journey we all make.

Whatever happens to having plans?
Making decisions so life wouldn’t be confusing, so we know where to go
We design our lives
So we feel more in control
But what if it doesn’t work out this way?
What if what we need is not meant for us
Maybe alternatives are better
We think too much of what we want to become
We spend a lifetime searching for what satisfies our soul

What will make us more important than others

We make plans
to feel more in control
of our lives

But maybe
not knowing,
being confused
and
having alternatives
Is simply better


We think too much of what we want to become
Instead of searching for what satisfies our soul

Red were the roses, the ones I left on your casket,
Orange were the leaves, the ones in your tree,
Yellow were the bruises, the ones that covered you head-to-toe,
Green were the stains, the ones left on the hems of your jeans,
Blue were your lips, the day you were found in your noose,
Indigo was the night sky, that night that you died,
Violet was that bruise, the one you wore around your neck

the pain you try to cover up deep inside your heart,
the abuse that you endured just ripped your world apart.
the anger that you cannot shake how ever hard you try.
Day by day it eats at you but doesn't tell you why.
Everyday you mask your hurt afraid that someone just might see,
I'm here to tell you Jesus does and longs to set you free.
What ever it was that happened
you are not to blame, the source of your unhappiness , your ill
unwanted shame.
gently kneel and bow your head , open up your heart.
you don't have to change a thing
Jesus loves you just the way that you are.

Tomorrow will happen to us
it happens after every today..
But yesterdays will not come back
It's just a memory that happened just a moment ago..

Do not speak to mad people
They will run their mouth
Right out your door
Your neighborhood
And all the way to the next town
But if you get too carried away
You will see
That madness
Breeds inside
Of humanity.

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

There is no better teacher than pain.
No better coach than sorrow.
As long as you make it through
'til tomorrow.

and i write,
like a madman grasping for scraps
of sanity

and i write,
because i'm not okay,
and i might never be

and i write,
as my tears well up,
held back by ignorance and pride

and i write,
when this absurdity overwhelms me,
and panic takes hold of me

and i write,
so i can explore always,
for where can you go when it's all in your head?

and i write...
so i write.

Walking on the Endless Road
Then I wished I had a bicycle.
So Worked Hard Day and Night
Finally  got the best one to Ride.
Then I wished for a Bike.
So Worked Hard Day and Night
Finally got the best one to Ride.
Then I wished for a Car.
So Worked Hard Day and Night
Finally got that hatchback one to Ride.
Now I wish to walk back.
Neither do I have the time or Energy
To walk Back Again.

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

Is a poet still a poet
If they do not write?

A journal gathering dust,
But a yearning to write.
Am I still a poet
Without my inner light?

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.

i am stuck
to many people
too big too much too loud
a stray elbow, a well intended touch
too much
too MUCH
don't see me break down
don't touch me
don't hear me
don't feel me
don't feel
don't touch me don't touch me
don't touch dont touch DONT TOUCH ME
ITS TOO MUCH

“Social media is taking over our lives,”
she tweeted angrily.

I never told a lie to you
that I love you
I told a lie to myself
that you love me..