I don't care
I never did
I never will

I don't care about the stabs
I don't care about the lies
I don't care about the loss

I never did
I never will

I don't care about you abandoning me in the middle of nowhere or making me doubt every single person I meet or forcing me to look at the mirror and despise the foolishness I had.

I don't care about all the above.

I try to convince myself every night that I don't.
But, I do;
I fully keenly wholesomely do care and my care was my doom.

it’s official—
i hate being alone.
this isn’t a poem
but
it’s words
i needed to say

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)

I'm
Tired
Of
B
R
E
A
T
H
I
N
G

Tired of

S
E
   E
    I
     N
       G

This hatred in humanity
And
The
Delicates
Being

T    O     R    N

Apart
So quickly
Without listening
To their glistening
Fragile
Beautiful words

Fuensanta:
dame todas las lágrimas del mar.
Mis ojos están secos y yo sufro
unas inmensas ganas de llorar.
Yo no sé si estoy triste por el alma
de mis fieles difuntos
o porque nuestros mustios corazones
nunca estarán sobre la tierra juntos.
Hazme llorar, hermana,
y la piedad cristiana
de tu manto inconsútil
enjúgueme los llantos con que llore.
el tiempo amargo de mi vida inútil.
Fuensanta:
¿tú conoces el mar?
Dicen que es menos grande y menos hondo
que el pesar.
Yo no sé ni por qué quiero llorar:
será tal vez por el pesar que escondo,
tal vez por mi infinita sed de amar.
Hermana:
dame todas las lágrimas del mar...

I can’t decide
if I’m comforted by the fact
that every thought  
I’ve ever had
has probably been had
before

And I don’t know
which is worse
That we are, perhaps
incredibly,
undeniably
not special at all
Or that we incredibly,
undeniably
are

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 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.

she soaks herself in his hurt
and it d
            r
            i
            p                
     ­       s                
                         o
                         u
                          t

of him
ever so slowly,
infecting her.
all she wanted was for him to be
drained
so he could live without pain
but now, she thinks
living is pain.

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

           Love                                  is                      
wr­itten                    in                    stone
       which                                slowly
             fades                          to
                   sand                   ..                                          
                    ­     ..                 ..
                             . . . . . . .
                              . . . . . .
                                . . . .
                                  . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

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."

It’s the kind of sadness where your rib cage
Contorts
And twists and
Snaps.

Depression doesn’t float through my veins
It crawls through my bones, with dagger hands
And winding movements.

I cannot breathe.

And yet there was nothing taken from me.

You are the sea.
You are cruel.
You are cold.
And I love you.

Tend to me
Like a thirsty garden once forgotten
Sing to me
Like a crying infant, pure and innocent
Hug me
Like an old friend years after
Look at me
Like an abstract painting, more complex with each glance
Touch me
Like the the cold steel strings of your guitar
Love me
Like you did before

keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­
                                                                ­ l                  is to what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                                                               ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.

.       Cross Avian
          

Out beyond the treble

  Glazed window (˚<

Proper Gander was

Miming something in

Bird talk to (˚> Dumb

        Down Duck.

      "Get Plucked"

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.

Repeating patterns from not long ago
Seeing my past as my future self
I can stop I know
I can put it all on a shelf
But that means I have to let you go
Something I’m afraid to do
Love isn’t what this is
I think you know it too

Back when I was young my father told me:
That I’d grow up, and I would be lonely,
But not to go, chasing Cleopatra,
Or else I’d die just another bachelor.

He said;

“Oh those pretty girls, there are so many,
Just look around you and, you’ll find plenty;
When you’re hurt and broken by a lover,
Amen, don’t worry, just find another.”

I said;

“Daddy, what if none of them love me back?
What if I’m alone, when the sky turns black?
What If all I am, ain’t what I could be?
It’s hard to find wisdom, but not misery”

He said;

“Son don’t stress, there’ll always be someone
Looking just for you. You: their only one.
And don’t ever worry about heartbreak,
The road to love; it is made of mistakes.

So, count your fingers and count your blessings,
Invite Cleopatra to your wedding.
Never love ‘til you don’t have to chase it,
But when you do, don’t you ever waste it.”