I take my prescribed pills with an energy drink
Monster energy if your wondering
And it's always the zero-sugar version
Because the sugar will rot my teeth.
I’m constantly on the verge of healing and destroying myself
Like a seesaw that's perfectly balanced
I am fed up with breaking my hand
And then bandaging it up myself.
I am my own executioner and doctor all in one body
The healing in the midst my own self destruction
I am the silence before an explosion
The calm before the storm.

Blue to gold
Gold to red
Red darkens
Black.

Specks of light
One by one
Filling my
View.

Low glow east
Full moon rise
Smiling at
Me.

I smile back.

One thing, it seems human nature can't abide,
    Believing, it could be on the wrong side.

People keep asking me
"What do you want your life to look like in five years?"

they always cringe when I say
"I just want to fight long enough to open my eyes tomorrow morning."

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 tried to save you many times before
Witnessed others try to save you too
Finally I realize that the only person
Able to save you from your demons is you

If you consider a woman less pure because you've touched her,
Maybe you should take a look at your hands.

I really dont know
How i feel at all, but i
Want to feel loved please.

like to be quiet,speaking
only
when you asked the question.

not sure why i came.
i think you invited me?

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.

I think the sun has grown jealous
Of my friendship with the moon
I prefer dusk to dawn
And midnight instead of noon

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

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

There used to be a bottle on the wall.
It was very green.
I'm sure it was the loneliest green bottle
that I had ever seen
It used to sit on the wall
all day and all night
And every day, when I looked out of the window,
it was always in my line of sight
Then one day, a cat came along.
Something was going to happen; I could tell
The cat then accidentally nudged it
and off the wall, it fell
When it had fallen off the wall
it had dropped with a very loud sound.
There were all these little pieces of the green bottle
all over the ground
Then the cat yelped
and I knew it had gotten hurt
I could quite obviously see its paws were caked in
blood and dirt
The bottle wasn't harmful in the beginning
it did not look the slightest bit treacherous
but after a nudge in the wrong direction
it became very dangerous
Now I look back at you smiling
next to me on the big armchair
Your fingers running through your soft locks of hair.
You remind me a lot
of that green bottle.
In the beginning, you were harmless
you were all sorts of fun.
Now you hurt me.
Could you tell me why
as I don't quite know what I've done

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."

Press me against you
Like flowers in a book

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.

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.

"I'm not a poet. I don't feel like one.
I like writting. That's all."

I push through the fog of doubt
convinced on the other side
is the light of day
clear and bright.

I see your action in my life
and feel it as surely as the air sweeps into my lungs
when I wake and my body moves
into the new day.

I have
not forgotten

-you-

purring, from
the parching tree

Your unassuming
crooning wooed
the willows
of an older
England

earth-smoke

fumitory..

summer songs
of Solomon

A single sweet monotonony
dependable as harvest store

came summoning the daysleep
word delectable.

He was smooth but not understanding
He was charming but not loyal
He was beautiful but a manipulator    
I knew this would come to and end
I knew I was a fool
He was secure but brought my insecurity
He was strong inside but not loving
He was my first but never mine