Pale October blue
Brings an optimistic gloom
The dead before the bloom.

The grey before the green
The sleep before the dream
A melancholy scene.

Pale October blue
A peculiar pallid hue
Memories freeze in morning dew

A season for silence to grow
A place for peace to be sowed
A cold that quiets the soul

Pale October blue
Winters youthful engenue
Purgatory rolling slowly through

My cheek is chilled from its kiss
Standing lonely in its foggy mist
When summer comes I find I long for this

Like a love that's gone but deeply missed

The past does not haunt me

as much as the present

I was and I will be

somewhere in between

enmeshed, never simple  

where should I head?

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

Her eyes were fiery
While her lips peeled away
Her sun was setting
But her colors never fade
When she bites she is bitter
But when she smiles she is sweet
Like a nectarine emblem
She’s the fruit of life’s tree.

You are
Just a little more
Than I understand.
Come down right now
And give me your hand.

He asked her what it's like living with anxiety.

She smiled sadly, "It's a never-ending pulse-race. Like knowing you don't want to jump off a cliff but not being able to talk yourself down from it.

Your fears take on a nebulous, unidentifiable form that tightens around your throat and incapacitates you.

There is no calm. No peace. Only the edge of a very strained thread."

Brain, brain go away
Don't want to listen one more day
Already lonely and afraid
Feel insecure and full of shame

Brain, brain don't act this way
You're always angry; Filled with hate
You know we're joined; Can't separate
Yourself your punching in the face

Brain, brain what can I say
To make it so you see things straight
Don't know how much more I can take
Of constant warring and debate

Brain, brain it's getting late
This journey's not some endless race
Life's flying by and at this pace
Forget a win; Not gonna place

Brain, brain let's medicate
I'll feed you drugs and we'll sedate
The only way to mitigate
Discrepancies we generate

Brain, brain we sadly waste
This outcome feels like it was fate
But never was there a sealed date
Fulfilling what we self-create

Brain, brain so much we faced
Success so close could almost taste
Instead our tail we always chased
We'll die alone sad and disgraced

I woke up from a nightmare
I could not stand to keep
to myself

you were stretched across the couch
coffee going cold on the table
a half finished cigarette
still burning

you wrapped me up
in kind words that
I could not bare
to hear

whispered into my ear
"one day we will go wandering
and this tiny house will overspill
with dreams'

you are not your memories, darling
you are not the bad things
that have been done to you
you are a fierce flame
that warms my heart

forget them, my love
they are nothing
and you, and you
are everything

I wonder if I really am kind hearted.
Most people think it’s true,
But maybe I’m just afraid of being mean-
Maybe I’m afraid of being you.

They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love."
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

Beloved..

I wrote mine without even knowing that you had posted.
Everything that I do is so that ones like you  can finally
have a chance to feel the Beautiful dream

    firsthand..  on the inside.

So, in truth.. you can truly say within your war-torn heart,
that every thing I do,  is for you.
It was an honor to go to your wall after I posted
and see what your heart and spirit had revealed  just
a few hours earlier.

Love is a funny thing. You are worth every moment  
of the pain that has come from the years of trying.
Hope..  and a deep understanding;  
and view of your own, tremendous Love-worthiness  
is what it is all about.

It is for that reason, solely..  
that Poetry ever came into being in the first place

    
    ..You are beginning to feel Everything.

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.

...the meadow and the puddle
you wouldn't come out of

wild and simple joy

invisable to eyes, now...

I wander the meadow grass

the fields where the flowers glow
in early morning
sunlight

the fields you
only dream of
where your soul is always free...

and you come running

spectral through the mist

I walk lonely fields

no one loves me
but they claim they care
if they really did wouldn't they see

i am falling apart
fragile to the touch
yet they keep on pushing me

closer to the edge
and they think i can take more
so they push farther till i'm at the brink

it's like they know i can't swim
but they are going overboard
and they'll be suprised when i sink

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

I wonder what it’s like
To be loved by someone
Romantically

I see people kiss in movies
And run my fingertips along my lips gently
Wondering what it’s like

I yearn for it
But don’t know how to go about it

Getting older I find myself cursing less
Drinking less
Crying more
Sighing more
Groaning more
Watch how you speak to me mentality is what I carry with me my in pocket
Feels warm

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

lights flicker
in the distance
far far below

I’m here
looking down on it all
wrapped in a blanket
a book lies next to me
pages flipping themselves
in the cool summer breeze
inside are the sounds of life
outside are the sounds
of the questioning
the air is filled
with random notes
fluttering around me
like guardian angels
I know why they’re here

darkness
sat down
next to me
to keep me company
we look at the flickering lights
in the distance
he tells me
you’d do fine down there
if you wanted to
be a light
surrounded by light
but then he shifts his gaze
the moonlight
dancing through his being
but you’d do great
up there
be a light
where no one has dared to be
and with that
he left

Looking at the window pane
Observing now the pouring rain
Fake wide smiles, swollen eyes
Perfect pictures torn to pieces
Red, red, roses set aflame

we do not write poetry
we write mirrors
which are held up
to curious faces
who read
looking for their
own reflections

i tried to distinguish
all my awful feelings
from how i really felt

i tried to extinguish
the fire i spread
from the one i lit myself

ripping scar tissue
the scabs on my lips
are these just the cards i’m dealt?

am i the dealer?
do i need a healer?
or more concealer?
a realist with a fake smile
i’ve been in this dentist’s chair for a while

Sorry,
I love myself more.

a memorial
is still being held in my mind
why can't i say bye