Have you ever wanted
To do what you wanted to,
but your brain stubbornly acted.
Filled your mind with words,
and thoughts that should be redacted
on a relaxing day, such as that.
Yet you got tempted and resigned,
so you picked up your pen again.
Threaded a soft blanket of words
one to rest your fatigued body under
until the sun was pulled from the sky.

Moonlight drizzles upon my lawn,
Tinting the grass with its
quicksilver luminescence.

The scattered clouds,
Drifting rapidly overhead in the
Almost nonexistent wind
Beckon in a tempest,
Shearing away the calm tension
That once roamed my yard.

The suppression
left an impression
on my healing heart.
A closing hole,
a dented body,
a golden reality.
Release has come,
so I'll carefully
push the envelope,
and watch it bend.

Living a lie,
wanting to die.
Saying you're okay,
but you are breaking down;
hour by hour, day by day.

Suddenly,
swiftly,
and silently
swept out
into the sea
of your fruitless lie.

Now only you will ever know.
You reap what you sow.

Is it red or gold?
I can no longer see the difference.
They both have meaning, warm and cold,
but I have no background inference.

Red like the fluttering cardinal's feathers,
but with a worldless ocean of depth.
The eminent vitality permeates the countless layers,
and a single look was enough to deftly steal my breath.

but it might as well be a searing gold,
with its sheen of softly sleeping amber.
A vibrancy that boils my blood cold,
and fills my mind with fruitless clamor.

I see it as neither or both.
The gold brings solace, while the red is my reality.
Before the colors flow, I must swear my saving oath,
that the delusion will never end my forlorn vitality.

A class full of wonders,
but there I sat,
talking to the one of interest.

Topic after topic slipped by,
our minds ran cracked and dry,
but we kept talking.
We talked about life,
our problems and strife,
what plagued our week,
and what made us weak.

The clock had long since grown wings,
and it's deathly bell shook my body,
but as classes solemnly moved,
she moved along with me.
We continued to excitedly talk
as we kept on our inter-class walk.
Once it had come to a close,
I wondered in thoughts of blue,
if it could ever happen again.
A fluid yellow moment
on a viscous black week.

The knot that resides
Upon the finger
Of your precious other
Is inexpedient for
The justification of your means.

Everyone has watched ****,
It’s like peeing in the shower;
Everyone has done it,
Yet it’s too wildly embarrassing
For anyone to admit it.

Stepping out
Of the shadowed veil,
And Pulling off
The masquerade mask,
The sun beckons dawn forth.

I’m no longer a little pup.
In all aspects, I’ve grown up.
Self reliance is not a right to me.
It’s a requirement, what I have to be.

All the voices
Running through
My mind, mistaken.
My thoughts feel taken.
They can’t be my own,
But yet here I lie
Writing yet another one
Trying to wind back up,
Rather than come undone.

Imperfection is everything.
Nothing is immaculate,
nothing is fail-safe,
some fool is always dumber
than you are smart,
so nothing is fool-proof.

In some cases,
you are finding the drop of mud
on the silvery crystalline ocean.
That is good enough,
don't hurt yourself
by yearning for more.

Slipping somewhere cold,
My grip is forever lost.
How long is the fall?

Little lamb, little lamb.
Run along little lamb.
Just try to remember that
life is a ******* sham.
It honestly is quite a shame,
how you continue to persist
and take part in their game.

The cards were marked from the start,
yet you still innocently play along,
getting ****** over by men with no heart.
In this story, You're the main part!
so go **** the men with souls of stone,
hone your weapon, make it your own,
and tear them apart, skin from bone.

Set on the tracks,
following a distant star
on a voyage to the beyond.

Sea after simmering sea,
spiteful morning dawn
after last remaining twilight,
we travel, veiled by the night.

A note lies on a wooden desk,
Its words conveying a coward’s half baked decision.

It was once clean and blank
But this changed, as all things do.
First was ink, forming a needlessly long message.
With this, came the tears, dripping at random.
The upset scrawling accidentally rips the note...
A pen thrown down, blotting the paper and words.
And lastly, more ink, but it’s from a different well.

I would like to see
What would come to be
Of a moose and rabbit
Roaming free.

It is a rather stupid idea, you must think.
And i wholly agree
But where might the fun be,
If you cannot think freely?
I think of all, from the smallest flea
To the largest bee.
Or from the makeup of tar,
To the largest star.
It is fun to think,
That is what I decree.
But in real life,
The moose and rabbit would just flee

It’s all a game of chess
you are just another pawn
We are all pawns, I digress.
Everybody is the same
Nobody is more special than the other
Not that anyone is special in this game
“The players don’t exist, mother.
There is no god, there is no satan”
A child will say this to their parent
This action was as useless as probation.
truth lain upon deaf ears, that is apparent.
We are all entrapped here, it is eternal
There is no cloud nine, it’s all infernal.

A browned, ******, and derelict oak door
That never should’ve been opened.

At a vexing infernal ball,
The molten ash lights up
An intricate obsidian hall.

The devil walked up to me
Offered a withering lily,
And asked for my decaying hand.

So I waltzed with the devil
Graceful fluid movements,
Like the blood leaking
From my long closed wounds.

Hand in decaying hand,
Ashen footprint by ashen footprint,
We drift further into our moment,
Dancing at the depths of our hell.

The dance will end in its own time.
The inevitable death of the
Minor notes of deprivation draw closer.
My heart starts syncing with the notes,
Tuning it's strings to the icy song in play.

As the ending major chords finish
Their prolonged hymn of fate,
The devil leans over my helpless body
And donates a kiss to my struggling lips,
Ending my life in its entirety.

Now a silent ballroom remains.
A silent ashen body lays stagnant,
And soon fades off into the dust
That decorates the ebony floor.

Two unscorched hands still lay,
But they are frail, and will soon decay.

Knowledge is power.
If it’s a sin, then I’ll be
A drug lord in hell.

Math is a wonderful subject.
Pushing numbers through
Variously evil algorithms.

But I cannot stop writing
During this intriguing class.
I want to listen, and I do
But I’m also weaving verses
Made up of muddy threads.

My math notebook has
A large quantity of poems.
And finding that one formula
Is like looking for that one minnow
In a pond of vexingly vigorous carps.

Shielded in a titanium cell,
living in a serene state of solitude.
The cold world wouldn't harm,
but the cold cage did.

Beaten with insults,
scarred with fists.
Living an infernal life,
so I built an immaculate chamber.

A cell thought to be without flaw.
Frozen solid, but slowly shattering.
Only a warm heart could thaw,
and now mine's fluttering.

Have you ever felt
Like pushing down a friend
And kissing them senseless?

A regretful feeling,
As fleeting as the twilight sun,
Yet as memorable as the colors
That existed during that frame.

I still wish I acted differently,
I wish I acted without my inhibitors,
And sized my embarrassing moment,
Spending it on the floor with him.

Mistakes are a demon
Bludgeoning you with a bat.
You get nothing but pain,
See nothing but failure.

And then your hospitable
Tormentor
Tells you to learn from
Getting beaten severely
By an infernal divine.

Names aren’t important.
I don’t wonder who the thief is by name,
I wonder with faces instead.
They flash by and I think “what if it was this person?”

I should leave a note, saying hi to them.
I really want to become friends with them,
It is naïve of me,
at 17 years old,
To want a friend.
But thats the one thing i want.

Not love,

Not money,

Not possessions,


A good friend,

A real friend.

Struck dead awake
Then pushed off to sleep
As my knife stabs my side
And I silently weep.

My suffering continues
But the emotion dissolves
Like a drop of milk
Inside of an amber marsh.
“It will see me tomorrow,
But for now,” I thought,
“I’ll bid it a good rest.”

The jade grass,
Sapphire ocean,
Amber marshes
And topaz beaches.
All of this is outside,
Right past my door,
I’d go, but to the world...
I’m a bore.

The vague moonlit visage
of her eternally beautiful face
was burned into my mind.

I remember it all,
especially the eyes.
She was smiling
a ventriloquist's smile.
Her face may have been
a summer sun's smile,
but her eyes
were a winter moon's sobs.

I want to help her
more than my pride
would ever
let my mouth admit.

It stabbed me,
like a rose's thorn.
Her immaculate facade
wrapped me in silky petals
then stabbed me with
those desolate eyes.

I still believe
that if I lost my sight,
and saw her no longer,
I would still see her that night.

Her face,
a moonlit visage
shone more light
upon my life;
upon my soul,
than the
solitary moon
ever could.

In the air
For less than
A second.

My hand moves
In utter hope and
Desperation,
But to no avail.
The glassware
Is now everywhere.

I step on
The jagged mess
That I have made
To repent my hate
For dropping
That precious plate.

Possession:
To have something.

Unique:
One of a kind.

Something that is
Mine:
A unique possession.

Why can’t I say that
A N Y T H I N G
Of
E V E R Y T H I N G
Is mine?

Am I just a
Stolen existence?

Stolen:
To take without
prior permission.

Nothing stolen
Is ever truly mine,
So I am, without doubt,
A stolen personality,
Nothing more.

From skin to bone,
I shall forever be alone.

Until death...

Until death comes for me,
Rips my existence apart,
Then leaves my body be,
As if he never graced my soul.

Then I will be alone,
And so frigidly, rigidly cold.

It is of a faintest hope I hold,
That I will not be alone
In the painfully adjacent future.

Sometimes the end
Is oh so far away
Beyond earth’s bend
Lying among the starts

But sometimes,
You are facing the light.
You just have to let it all
Fade to white.

I woke up with a start, staring at a wooden door.
It was my front door.
Walking through it I reached a lawn.
Walking down my lawn i found a long road.
My road went off into the distance,
Walking down my road, trailing off into the distance.
As I reached the horizon, I saw a light amongst the fog.
The light belonged to a car, traveling through my fog.
My car crested the horizon, and drove onward.
The two lights signifying my car drew closer.
Amongst my fog, I could barely see my road.
As my car darted closer to me, I started to fear.
My car was speeding up, faster and faster,
Gliding over my road,
Ripping through my fog,
Screaming through my otherwise silent wilderness,
And eventually hitting life into my lifeless body.
The first thing I saw was my horizon,
But then it all left me.
My horizon was no longer mine,
Nor was my wilderness,
My fog,
My road,
My door,
And then my life.

I lay there in the field,
An unlit Marlboro in between my lips.
Gazing into the summer sky...

My breathing starts matching the lengthening shadows,
My pulse slows down to even out with the intermittent owl hoots,
The cicadas fade into the crickets, and the crickets play a lulab-

A sudden warmth hits my face,
The light of my lighter is shining back into my eyes.
Once the end is in embers, the lighter is pulled away.
I take a long drag and gaze into nothingness,
Once again wondering who lights my cigarette,
Because they always steal my lighter too.

You left something behind, once again.
I just kept counting my fingers, one to ten.
You been forgettin’, lettin’ down,
Berating, belating and I just keep waiting,
Watching you hating all the things I am
Creating with my shaking hands.

My ego keeps deflating
At every insult you’ve been making
It’s infuriating how you are thinking that you are getting away with all the **** you’ve done to me.
I haven’t been forgetting or hating or belating and berating...

Until now.

You left me behind.
Do you wanna pick up what you’ve forgotten?

Life chained me down with roses.
Gave me a forsaken heart attack,
Let my poisoned blood seep out.
And I watched it all fade to black...

Spinning round and round
For this endless eternity
On this infernally angelic
Carousel of bloodlust and agony.

In over my head,
And it all starts to change.
My air is running out,
I just might as well die.
So I break the ocean,
Rise with it’s tide,
And landing in her motion,
I sail to solace by her side.

I lay in my bed,
In the aftermath of
That...

After a quick nap,
I wake only to find
Myself chained down,
Unable to move.

My sloth sin
Consumed me,
Leaving no active
Pieces untouched.

So I lay,
And I ponder
My wandering mind.

I think to myself
“If I lay here long enough,
Could I get laid?”
And
“If I sat in a puddle of
My own **** for long enough
Would my leg disintegrate?”
Both answers are probably no,
But...
You never ever could know.

I know I swear a lot,
And many think it’s ******.
Sure words have power,
But who gave them the power?

You.

And.

Me.

We gave words power,
And I gave them less power than you,
These words are ways to express myself;
Showing how things **** me off too,
Not words to used to destroy poetry.

I thank you for your time.

The memories of raven black obsidian
Well up at the sight of my new blade.
A midnight blade, with a red groove,
Running it’s own comet like streak
Down the center of the curvature.
The handle is made of an ebony wood,
A wood as dark, if not darker than
The blade it so reliably holds together.
A thin silver band wraps the division
Between the blade and handle,
And blocks the sheath from over-sheathing.
The sheath is also made of the same
Shadowy wood as the handle,
Giving off an aura of pure functionality.

This was a weapon made purely to ****.
The air around the blade shadily undulates
Like heartbeats through crimson arteries,
Telling me it’s immense bloodlust.

Suicide to joy,
Cyanide to happiness,
2019 held a lot.
From sudden love
To soft rejections
And a hard ones as well.

But now 2020 is around the bend,
So I bathe in my raven black darkness,
Waiting for the clock to turn up a year,
An hopefully my life will move with it.

We will change,
Make things greater,
Make them better,
Fix it all up.

Not with petty bicycle patches,
But with entire tubes and rims.
Not with concrete filling,
But with fortresses of stone.

I promise it will work out,
But I cannot do anything by myself,
So I want your hands to help.

We will rise like the flowing tide,
Creating a motion side by side,
And reach for the ever falling sky.