may you continue
reaching your dreams
even if sometimes
it is too far
even if sometimes
it is too hard
may you never get tired
of moving forward

now I'm 24 and had a plan to get married at 27

but life is crazy, my wedding is in 2 months

Dear Soren Kierkegaard
Your writings pierce my soul

Hereditary sin
And I love rock n' roll

Went to Copenhagen once
Asked them about you

They gave me a tourist map
Graveyards for to view

I hope you and Regine Olsen
Are together in eternity

I keep reading you
Say a prayer for me

              Thanks.

i still
do not know
the poem i've been trying to write
and maybe
that's because
i haven't been
writing one at all
or maybe it's because
the poem i've been trying to write
is not ready for paper
and maybe
i'm the paper
that's not ready for it

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.

You.
Are.
A.
Walking.
Masterpiece.

Real freedom
are intrinsically linked
to the freedom
of a bird of prey.

As my heart aches
Falls apart and breaks
I feel at peace
My emotions cease
I exist in solitary
Forever wary
Of things to haunt me
As I nestle into to a fir tree
I felt broken
I felt stolen
By the girl who
Whisked my heart askew
As I stare into my despair
I tell you beware
Of the heartbroken world
That is worse than the underworld
Endless darkness
Endless starkness
Nothing to feel
Nothing to conceal
That nothing is worse
Than the broken heart curse

Thanks to paradise
I now have lived to 99
I write this simple poem
to make another mine
waiting for another
one more poet to go
Turn me into 100
by a click and a follow

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.

We are infinitesimal part
Of
What we call
Reality
A sliver
Of
Approximately nothing
Yet
So significant
That
The cosmos
Exists through us
And
Within
Us.

the walls were
the length of night
when he heard birds
practicing their songs

from a tree lined street
to the ribs
of his door

there he was
just a man
on a bed
in a room

tied to a space
a decoration of
his own cave

waiting for the eyes
of his window
to open

and life to come
rushing in

I spend too many nights thinking
Wondering, writing, dreaming
Of someone who doesn't even think of me

I fell in love with your stories
I fell in love with your pain
I fell in love with your diaries
I fell in love with your brain
I fell in love with your sorrow
I fell in love with your darkness
I fell in love with your desire for no tomorrow
I fell in love with your sharpness
I fell in love with your mind
I fell in love with your blues
I fell in love with your rhymes
I fell in love with you

She was a thrifted sweater and denim and jersey knit sheets
Pizza breath and red wine and toothpaste
Alabaster skin and knotted hair and freckled shoulders
A tangible dream and my favorite good morning
She agreed to let me kiss her and I agreed to let her slip my shirt over my head before she became
Blood and tears
"I trusted you" and "I’m sorry"
Midnight poems and a drunk "I need you"
I’m afraid I loved you like the way I wrote

Don't cry,it looks bad on you
Just smile,you'll be so beautiful as I ever know...

Sometimes we can only see the blossom
when we hit the bottom
little joys of life
help to strive

I know you care about me
and this sets me free
and let me be
bringing me a cup of tea

We kissed and said goodbye
"Don't miss me too much" I teased
And you didn't.

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.

Let the rain fill your soul
So you don’t cry

To learn you
inch by inch
pore by pore
sigh by sigh
is the greatest adventure
I can find

Check message
Facebook
Check message
Instagram
Check message
Send message
Wait
Check
Look;

When did relationships
Get defined
By a read receipt?
Will we
Now
Only measure intimacy
By a tweet?

What do we have left,
Why can’t we
Go back
To laughter
In a diner seat

I traced the texture of your words
Like my heart was blind
And your voice was braille

He found her in her mess,
Told her to be at best,
Now she is rocking in her dress.

I make room
I make time
I make nothing but connection

You make reason
You make rhyme
I make nothing but exceptions

We make a fool out of me
and a hero out of you
So you are nothing but perfection

We make excuses
We make lies
But they are nothing but deceptions

a girl kissed a boy
and told him not to tell
he grew up to be a poet
with a promise kept so well
till he wrote one day a poem
that she’s found reading, but forgot
and wondered if it’s really him
and thinking that it’s not
but buried within these pages
and hidden within the rhyme
were words dripped from his lips
caressing every line
so she came in a little closer
and read it to the end
and found him in the poem
and kissed his lips again

My entire life,
I have been waiting.
For years,
Almost two decades now
I have been waiting.
Waiting,
For the better parts.
Waiting,
For the “soon”.
Waiting,
For my life to begin.
Because,
I don’t feel like I have lived.
In the nearly twenty years
I have been alive
And breathing
I do not feel
In any of those years
That I have been alive.
I don’t feel like a single breath
That I have taken
Has been real.
I feel as if
All these years
I’ve been stuck
Behind a window
Watching as my life unfolds
Before me.
I feel that
I have had
Zero control.
That I am in the backseat
Letting someone else drive.
That someone else,
Is writing on the pages
Of MY life.
But no more.
I will break that window,
I will take that wheel,
And I will write
My own pages.
My life has begun,
And now -
I’m in control.

A mouse in a corner was I,
Wanting to hide or to fly
to desert or forest enclave,
on hill or in mountain cave,

i had no idea as to why,
as to what had turned me awry,
but blackened shadows haunted
by day and night daunted

chased by terror and fright
as if shadows could bite,
never ceasing, no respite
never a glimmer of light

i yearned self to deep-six
traverse the river Styx
to escape, run, leave
this place of little reprieve

i'm still running and will continue
till i learn my lesson of life
perhaps that G-d is within you
even when darkness is rife

Has HP so many spinning wheels anymore?
I wait to heart a poem I like, comment, save a work, and I get,

A spinning wheel

Or a little sign:

Bad gateway. 505

Are we all dead?