Dear friends, Sorry I can’t hang out
I’m too busy being emotional
Too busy numbing my feelings
Too busy stuck in this hole of self doubt
Sorry I can’t be enough for you
That I don’t want a ******* corporate job
That I don’t care about money or status
That I don’t wanna follow the path I was on
Sorry to myself
if I wind up like her
I just wanna find my purpose
Before it’s too late to know for sure
But I’m sorry if I become absent as your only light
i need to do what’s best for me
But Sometimes I don’t know what’s right
And I’m sorry that when you pass
I wasn’t there to take the same care
Cause you were like my parents but now I’m not even there
And I’m sorry that I broke your heart
That I still think about you every day
But I think it’s probably out of spite
Although I hope you are ok
I wonder how you’re doing I really hope life is swell
I’m sorry I haven’t been there to wish you well
Or tell you goodnight at the end of every day
But that’s really not my problem and that’s all I have to say
I don’t know why people say sorry so much
Too apologetic cause we are really not
And maybe we have sympathy which doesn’t mean a lot
When apathy overrules the empathetic thoughts
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 11:33 AM UTC
Nah I don’t really like you
I just like the attention
The feeling of being wanted
Like someone’s always there to listen
And I realize now the cause of many regrets
I didn’t say you could cross that line
I just said you could sleep in my bed
But boundaries get blurry when you don’t know how to say no
Cause it’s the fear of not feeling wanted
Which I can’t let go
And I think it makes me feel better
To look back at the past
With a mindset it was my fault
My own actions that led to this or that
Ithinking about it makes my blood boil up
Not being in control of your own body
Being taken advantage of
Dancing with the thought that you’re weaker than you think
Someone who can’t say no
Is not someone I want to be
So the past becomes grey
And maybe if I just tell myself
That I wanted it
It won’t feel like such hell
Cause when you tip toe of the edge
You’re bound to fall off
There is no yes or no
On the cliff that we call touch
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 11:30 AM UTC
On and off a lot weighs on my heart
Heavy on my chest
don’t know where to start
I’ve gotten lots of paper cuts while writing my book
There’s chapters where it hurts to go back and look
Pages that are just too hard to read
Hard to understand...
like trigonometry
In school I never took that class
but it’s probably really difficult if you’re bad at math
Life is like math or kind of like an onion
They both have the potential to make you cry in a sudden
Like in the middle of the day when you shouldn’t be emotionally unstable but you are
cause that one chapter and it’s little sad ending left a huge fu king scar
And I don’t write this for anyone but myself
cause there’s feelings I wanna yell and emotions I wanna shout
To bury the shame and the doubt and regret
And pull the bullet out that’s gone straight through my head
Bullets are like onions and math I’d assume they all can make you cry
But pulling it out is harder, when your own fingers are digging inside
Or by the fingers of another person
Ripping apart your wounds
Is a scar ever really healed if it can still bruise
I’m not angry, just a little salty
Cause there’s things I don’t want to remember that tend to haunt my memeory
I’d rather have a nice lunch with my demons make them friends
Then share my **** with people who won’t understand
But how will I ever know if I don’t ever try
I think you ****** me up too much to even try
And I’m standing on the stage,
naked in a nightmare shaking and afraid
Cause we trip over our humanity just to be fake
wearing religion and hypocrisy to the big masquerade
And here I’m standing in front of the crowd called life
Imagining everyone in their underwear I heard that makes it seem alright
And I think it really does help if we tear down our walls
if we share our truth our raw emotion our biggest downfalls
Unite the solidarity I’m not the only one who’s ****** up
You won’t find me wallowing in my sadness often but it’s there
And I don’t make this **** up
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 11:29 AM UTC
It's not till you're deprived that you can really love something
Anyone who has gone to a foreign speaking country can understand this
the words being spoken are stripped of all meaning to you
Then you go home and there's no more translating or confusion
You understand
When you touch me I understand
I sense every subtle advance and fight to deny subjectiveness
But your language is too convincing, too poetic and I melt under your finger tips
they trace the trails of my silent desires in pursuit of the never ceasing void
The black hole that never stops consuming because there can never be enough
Fill me with pages and pages more than a million libraries
If not you, then perhaps the next
This is my language and you speak it so well
Then one day I'm stranded
Tens of thousands of years it seems on a desert island where the islanders don't speak the same language as I do
But one day I'm rescued and able to speak to the rescuer
It clicks back so easily and there is a deep appreciation for dialogue after being deprived
Now talk me to sleep as your hands roll across my back like the tide
Tell me what I Need to get me by before I'm stranded once more
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 8:34 AM UTC
sometimes
in order to breathe
i smother my lungs
with funny things
then exhale you
with a sigh of relief
just to wake up
the very next night
suffocating again
amidst the fight
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 1:26 AM UTC
8 o'clock getting started
9 o'clock you want me tonight
10 o'clock poisoned veins, glassy eyes
11 o'clock feed me perfumed casket lies
12 o'clock I reject you, first time
1 o'clock you light cigarettes
2 o'clock while I ponder
3 o'clock pity or
4 o'clock
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 12:58 AM UTC
tonight
eyes locked, timeless stare
I can't
help but smile back
refrain
no longer exists
from
my sense ridden veins
thinking
now can only be
of you
i will remember,
tomorrow
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
5/16
time is perspective
Going through years of tangible memories
I realize I took for granted how creative my younger mind was
before the world had made any impact on my spirit
and I rested in an untouched place
a sanctuary of ideas that could easily manifest themselves into reality because anything was possible
a rich land of colors and frequencies I can no longer see or hear
time has enabled me to see just how bursting my mind was
and just how boxed it is now
I thought then as I do now
that my capabilities of creating are limited by the invisible boundaries I have yet to learn how to break
the only difference is, my creations I see from the past are crazy
my mind has traversed and ventured through many different landscapes since then
but all of our landscapes are recorded
I can still find that sanctuary from years ago
where the river of colors flows
I can't completely journey back to the land itself
but I can remember it and find a space for a river here
a river is never consistent nor steady throughout
creativity comes and goes whether it be days or years
but once it is in you it never leaves
the colors stay stained in your skin
no matter how many downpours wash you bare
or how many droughts scorch your skin dry
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 2:40 PM UTC
Life is a paradox
So am I
If you choose your reality
then what is a lie
I walk through the desert
but its feels like rain
constantly changing
nothing was the same
wait.
didn't mean to quote Drake
but when music been around this long
everybody sounds the same
everybody's right
nobody's wrong
music saves the soul
but so does God
how come a believer
can preach
but can't sing along
its like knowledge makes me smarter
yet erases where I'm from.
this world is crazy
you could be gone
in just a blink
think
don't think
think
in the scheme of things
do i really know anything?
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC