I want to write something real

I want to write something genuine

I want create something beautiful

maybe something someone will someday depend upon.


You see, for me its all about purpose

About fulfillment in my life

maybe I'll fall in love

Lord knows that I have tried.


My mind is ruled by falling for

Things I wished were real

Like a person who might be the one for me

Or a place in this world that I might fill.


I think about things I'm thinking

And then think quite a bit more

I'll never understand

just what all of these thoughts are for.


I want to be writer

Someone who inspires.

Someone who is real and true in their words

and who's courage never tires.


My mind just feels so selfish

constantly thinking about itself.

I want to be more selfless

But for that I might need a little help.


So I'll slip away from my wants

my desires and my greed

and maybe someday soon

I'll become the someone I  n e e d  to be.

have you ever felt so angry
that it was almost like magma
was hiding at the back of your throat?

pulsing and glowing and taking its time
before it erupts and dribbles down your chin,
flowing to your shoes and destroying
everything you've ever held close.

because lately, i've been postponing my eruption with these desperate words;

paper against fire
ink against magma

feeble stoppers to a bottle brimming to the mouth with froth, pressure building up and up and up—

crack goes the glass

paper against fire
ink against magma

sometimes they hold up
sometimes they just aren't enough.

This migrant children concentration camp crisis has turned me into a liberal!

More than 2, 300 children who were separated from their parents while crossing the Southwest border in recent weeks are fanned out across the United States, in shelters and other temporary housing originally intended for minors who attempted to come into the United States without an adult. The Department of Health and Human Services oversees an estimated 100 shelters in 17 states.

This is horrible. Trump is a literal hitler and the republicans are the neo-nazis that America always feared would entrench upon its sacred constitution that is to be replaced by Pro-White Neo-Nazi Ermächtigungsgesetz - a 2019 Weimar Constitution amendment that gave the Trump Cabinet—in effect, Chancellor Adolf Donald Trump —the power to enact laws without the involvement of the non-whites.

i believed you were different,
i accepted your flaws,
and i thought you would accept mine,
but you destroyed me harder than the rest,
the jokers were telling lies,
they manipulated you,
the pretender were questioning,
all you did was deny,
you managed to make me look like a fool.

through the darkest night,
i tried to cut the pain away,
but i want to be flawless,
for you.

i felt stupid, worthless,
tears streaming down my face as i hear
you laugh because you fooled me in front of them,
so i picked up the blade,
and you know what i did.

The truth is
I'm scared of you
In a good way
Because
If i'm scared
It means i hold you dear.
I'm proud
Yet terrified
At how you can make mistakes
Terrible ones
Break my heart
And still manage to make me smile

So when i tell you,
I'm scared
Don't run away
Embrace me
And tell me
I need not be
That you might hurt me,
But your intentions were not to
How you would fix it,
And be better at understanding,
How we will build it together. .
Tell me it is okay
To be scared
But not of you.
Because you won't leave.

Tell me
And make me believe it by staying
Not by disappearing
And appearing
But being constant
Each day.

Prove me
And
My demons wrong.

Let me win for this one time
Let me be me for this one moment.
Let me embrace my feelings
Including the scary ones.

i do not feel compassion
for the man who made me
learn what it means to survive,
to come out the other side
with wounds that hide under
repressed skin, only to reveal themselves
as silence or black ice caught in
a flash of remembering;
i do not wonder what made him this way
think, did his mother hug him enough
when i hear his voice echoing
in nightmares where i cannot scream
and my legs feel like lead
burdened by the weight of all this baggage,
a torn up suitcase
filled with blood red bricks
that doesn’t meet the carry-on weight limit

i cannot unpack it.

I was petrified of heights, but for some reason, my body moved faster than my mind. My hands grasped onto the warm metal bar of the spire ladder. A spire that was placed one thousand feet above lower Manhattan. The sun shined a golden tint on my face, making my body heat up. But a light breeze whistled through the air refreshing me from the warmth. I gaze upwards to the pinnacle of the metal structure. Audrey was standing at the top of it, her black camera pointing downward towards me. My chapped lips twitched upwards creating a smile. Before I could realize, I was up there with her. Strands of my dark hair took over my vision as the wind tasted it. My adrenaline rushed as I stood on the narrow piece of metal, centimeters away from death. But after seconds it was gone. The feeling that I chased every day had vanished and my mind became blank. Watching over the city with no one below knowing became peaceful to me. I drifted out of conscious and into my own world. I felt as if the city was mine. The light breeze pressed against my face softly, bracing me from the warm sun that hit my body. Curtis's voice drifted into my ears, taking me back to reality."Helis!!" he called from the platform of the spire. The sound of my heart beating blared through my ears like music through a speaker. The feeling I yearned for was back. I slowly found my way down the ladder and onto the platform. The three of us stayed concealing ourselves on the opposite side of the structure, away from the helicopters. We played hide and seek for what felt like hours.

To us, the city is our playground,
the city is what makes us feel alive.
We are the city kids that no one talks about.

There’s a soft sound to it

The way your bare feet touch the floor

Or the way your hair falls into your eyes

Or how you sigh right before you fall asleep


There’s an eager emotion to it

The way your mouth quivers after a kiss

Or the way your eyes look as you lean in close

Or how you push your body into mine


There’s a fleeting feeling to it

The way your keys jangle as you walk out the door

Or the way your toothbrush never stays more than a day

Or how you’re too kind to wake me when you leave


There’s a rare reality to it

The way your phone lights up with texts from her

Or the way your voice sounds telling me you’ll be late

Or how you haven’t shown up in weeks.

The battle between
darkness and depression
is onslaught for any troubled soul
for it takes place much deeper
than any dug out hole
This darkness seems to just find me
Takes over my world into my sanctuary
It settles around the iris of my eyes
Turning me into someone who just seems to cry
Rooted in negativity and lost in my pain
Through my eyes it enters my brain
Corrupting my each and every thought
Breeding unwelcome memories that like to haunt
Spreading now like poison through my veins
Trying to take over till nothing remains
Writing words is my only defense
When nothing else I do makes any sense
The power of prose keeps that place deep within me
Safe and free from this darkened toxicity…

the sun drips
like
a
yellow yolk

oozes
down
the gold knots
of my spine
breathe the first of Spring days
the radio plays our favorite song

i see you backwards
quickly
all the times we had
vulnerable;
gone.

the sky is blue, the lake is blue
your eyes are blu
and they say i look like your
sister
oh gods. help me
i can’t feel anything
except you
and everything here is you

I undressed
my cards
My Kings & Queens
lay there looking at you
and all you did
keep
yours
folded

The sea is still today
It's cerulean blue and gold
I think of the thoughts it carries
Within its hidden folds.
It's  touch is soft and gentle
It soothes the ache of years
And I wonder how many waves
Are made from fallen tears.

My life is sometimes only that green
that everybody see's during the day,
and at night when you awake
with your window open wide
and perceive the fresh scent
of a brand new beginning,
with the joy it transfers to us all,
conveyed within the air we breath,
that comes only in nature we see.

Waking up to a heavy chest
My body begging me to sleep again
And my anxiety begins the second I realize I'm alive
I'm trying to learn to function
With all of this negative energy inside me
I know it'll pass and
I know it'll get better
But right now it hurts
I feel unloved
Unloveable
I feel lost inside myself
A place I can't stay too long
Before I lose my mind
I can tell myself I'm worth it and
That my worth isn't defined by others
And it works for a bit
Until something else comes up and
My heart loses its energy
And I either feel like giving up
Or ready to fight everyone

He writes poetry
But no one one knows

He writes poetry
He writes about love
And loss

He writes about smiles
And frowns

He writes about sorrow
And forgotten towns

He writes about how lost he gets
Caught up in his own mind

He writes poetry to
And about others

But no one knows

Know one knows the depth of his soul
Because they all choose to see the exterior
And that exterior screams

Preppy
And preppy
Don't have souls

Or so they thought
Until the day he was consumed
By his own poetry

Go run like lost souls do:
up any path that looks safer than the last,
stumbling towards a clearing, a hint of sanctuary.
Always to find that the forest isn’t ending,
it's cresting the edge of a mountain,
and on the other side are more forests,
and rivers,
and meadows to cross.

But for a brief moment, on this peak,
every path is downhill,
each way easier than before.
So go run like lost souls do:
In any direction you choose.

I used to be nicer
Pay more attention to you
Sing to you
Feed you
Watch you with delight in my eyes
Gaze into your eyes with a smile
Our brainwaves were synced
Our bodies linked
We were one

Then he came
The intruder. The interloper.
Slowly at first
Nausea. Lethargy.
I needed to sleep
I turned my back on you at night.

Then the pain
Relentless
I couldn’t run with you
Couldn’t chase you
Couldn’t carry you
I started to snap

Then my body betrayed us
Made our special time unbearable
I couldn’t stand to feed you
Your little hands searching for comfort
Made me sick
I dried up inside

The night before he came
I realised what was coming
It hit me
As I held you
In your sleep
I felt the tearing begin
And I cried and cried

Then he came
And he cried and cried
And cried
And I snapped
And now you don’t remember
The time before
And you cried and cried
For milkies
And I couldn’t give them to you

In some crazy way
like  being loved
Poetry  gives me
Strength and
Motivation
at times it’s
all I  have
It’s where
I escaped
It’s Where I
feel right at home  
my happy
state of mind
Where I take
my mental
Essence to
a higher plateau
Where words
becomes Arts
Never ceased
to amazed
Let the ink
dance  with
my mind  
Tango enlightenment
Impossible to avoid
ink splattered
all over
my thoughts
It’s like swimming
In the  Black Sea
with full consent
into a black hole
Impossible to
let go
Orientation put
me into a dazed
But not for long
anticipating
memory fades
Ruined  expressions
like mind on fire
seeking for the  river
Put words together
analyzed all
the dance strides
my ink had taken
Scrutinized  
what It all means
and make sense
      of it all
Nevertheless
keep my insanity
Is The duel
being  fought
Enduringly
into the abyss of
The poetic  mind

Your skin is kindling
and I am on fire. Burning,
hands outstretched in the white-hot
heat of the flames, palms up.
Beseeching, like my mother when she says
whatever but means I do not understand you.
Palms up. It is not a request but an admittance,
a compromise. She will never really know
me, a confused daughter standing still
in a bi-pass, straight passing bi. Cars passing
in sets of paired tires. I count them, take note
of matching treads and wonder where my other
half rides, if my mother would mind a tire
from the same brand, with all the same parts.

Your skin is a wildfire. I let it rage,
thinking that if this is a death sentence
and your hands exposed wire, electric
on my skin, I’d gladly take the chair. Sit
down; let me touch you, suffocate
in the carbon dioxide you expel. Let this not
be a dream. I have been asphyxiated for so long
in dreams my mother had. I was to be wed
to a nice man, to have the children she lost.
Create new souls to take root in the lifeless
plots of her prime. I think that this moment –
me, throwing myself on you, pyred
like a Salem Witch, would disappoint her.

She would love you if you were a man,
or at least if you could ease me into complacency.
If you had put me in that box that she or society
or guilt has built me, that casket-like thing
moving down the river like a Moses myth,
she might love us both. She would love me,
I hope, if she knew I have wanted men
the way I want you; singed and parched.
Palms up: an appeal to my senses. I’ve come out
of them already, and I am holding your hand,
on fire. Palms up: my counter-appeal. I become
Joan of Arc. She knew herself; she, at least, didn’t beg
to be heard in her final moments. She became
silent ashes and trusted her God. He would love her
even as every back she’d ever loved turned away.

i became the only boy
that i wanted to take
my shirt off for
step out of my pants
without falling over
and pull my socks off
one by one

i don’t really know
how this whole thing works
but it seems like dinner
would happen first
maybe i’d bring flowers
say how handsome i look outloud
and mean it

if i still had to wear a bra
i would buy a nice one first
splurge on something more
substantial than a sports bra
maybe something with
an underwire and little ribbons
show that part of me some love

and i would be slow about it
run my hands over this body
that dysphoria has always kept
me from exploring
with my own flesh against flesh

take the time to learn
all the curves and edges
of this vessel that has never
really felt like home
always too tight around
certain parts and too loose
in others

but that wouldn’t matter
because i would be a gentleman
and do this with the lights on
pull my shirt off
in a way that wasn’t rushed
and begging to be put back on
right after it would hit the floor
at my feet

and my knees wouldn’t shake
mapping out the parts of myself
i always wanted to cut off
and my breath wouldn’t falter
but go out easier than it had
in years

because i am the only boy
i ever wanted to take
my shirt off for
and i deserve to feel beautiful
and handsome
and fragile in some parts
because i am still here

dammit
i am still here

To
      be
            loved
                        is
                             simple,
                         ­    simply
                  begin
              to
     give  
love.

Down this rabbit hole again
Emotional roller coaster ride of pain

Heart dancing to the beat that chaos sings
Feet lost in place, two dead twins

Down this rabbit hole I go
Dry tears down my cheeks flow

Turn the corner one last time again
This never ending ride of pain

To erase your subtle pangs.
You become ingrained in verses.

I will not speak―
a single word to come to terms
with the unknown.

But life extracts a price.
You must become a buddha―
and leave your princess.

You will not see―
the Apocalyse giving rise
to an opus. And my child
you cannot read my book.

The voiceless dumb
bell goes on ringing to send a
call for the faithful to come
and jump into the cauldron of moon.

I boil in the guilty sun.

I want my love for myself
To overflow
And I want my overflow of love
To seep over onto you
But for now
My cup is empty
And maybe you can sense
That I have nothing to offer you

Nobody will ever know how depressed i am

There's something up in his brain
It's not letting him stay
He's not going insane
Just being a victim of prey

Taking off-side his retina
They cut his hair off for a splatula
The sweetest boy of five
Who had readily to thrive

Graduating to first grade
Happiness did not last - and bade
In two months there came a blow
In the form of a malignant grow

Paralyzed him from hips below
Sucked out his willingness to play
Losing weight, no strength in tow
Dreading the last breath every day

He doesn't know what struck him now
Except that his mother's eyes are broken somehow

I think about smoking sometimes
on dreary days
on quiet nights
when I'm cold
or lonely
or sad
and I just want to inhale the numb
and exhale the ache

but aren't I just inhaling the poison
and exhaling it too?
I take it into myself
and breathe it out into the world

I think about rainy nights sometimes
dark, with the taste of a storm in the air
faded music playing in the background
door half-open
me, leaning over the balcony railing
with death perched between my lips

I think about smoke
spewing from my mouth
carrying all misery away
burning through the walls I can't tear down

I imagine cigarettes
come with leather jackets
sly smiles painted red
and sharp eyes lined black
with a devilish spark in them

They pair so nicely with
the blackest of nights
with bonfires and quiet laughter
and with silent solitude

But then I remember
crooked smiles with yellowed teeth
lungs, withered and black
coughing, gasping for clean air
because they're so infected with smoke

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

Don’t fall in love with me.
There are days when I get sad without a reason
And I just stare at the ceiling
Senseless thought running around my mind like phrase
With tears streaming down my face.

Don’t fall in love with me.
On those days, I don’t talk to anyone.
I just bury myself on my mattress
And think about how I became this mess of sadness.

Don’t fall in love with me.
I will become attached to you
And I will cry myself to sleep
If you don’t text me good night before you go to sleep
I will convince myself that it’s because you got tired of me.

Don’t fall in love with me.
I’m too much.
I will depend on you.
I need attention, much more than other people.
I’ll talk to you in metaphors and make you one.
I’ll write poems about you and open up notepad at 2 A.M.

Don’t fall in love with me.
I couldn’t stand you coming home to find me on the bathroom floor
Shaking and crying, with blood spilling from my wrists.
I couldn’t stand seeing the disappointment in your eyes.

Don’t fall in love with me.
I will pour everything I’ve left of me into you,
Every bit of love, until I have nothing to give.
Until I become completely empty.

Don’t fall in love with me.
I’m scared that my sadness is contagious.

Don’t fall in love with me.
I will replay your sweet words in my head
When I hate myself so much that I want to die.
Your words will be the only things that make me stay.

Don’t fall in love with me.
You will live in fear.
You won’t be able to leave me,
Because you’d know if you did, I wouldn’t have anything to live for.

Don’t fall in love with me.
Before I met you, there wasn’t a single person who could’ve made me stay.
You’re my reason now.

Don’t fall in love with me.
Because I will fall in love with you