Dec.28.2019

I feel sick.
The nauseating waves of emotion
flooding my body in one continuous motion,
as if it wants to drag me out to its seventh sea;
a glacially boiling reverie full of flash-frozen icicles.

The past five days have built block upon shadowed block,
and I'm losing sight of my own deceptively delusional reality.
Why have things taken such a sick and twisted turn towards my hell?
I want my ******* knife, I want to see my one and only solace,
I want to see my vibrant blood, full of self despising vigor.

The kernel blows up,
Popping it’s solid shell,
And expanding into
An amazing...
And delicious form.

The kernel
Of a computer
Is the same,
Except the astounding amazingness
Comes from the interactiveness
With a hunk of silicon and copper.

Disclaimer: please don’t eat any circuitry...

I’m thankful for this past year,
It taught me to calm down;
Loosen up a bit.

I’m thankful for those that hurt me,
You taught me forgiveness,
And gave me a wake-up call.

I’m thankful for my ability to change;
To become more social.
Otherwise life would have been hell.

I’m thankful for the life I’ve lived,
The progress I’ve made,
And the luck I have had.

Striping flames
Burning names
Cindered letters
Breaking fetters
A novel of ashen lies
Slowly dies

A slice cuts at what’s free,
But now all is balanced.

As all things should be.

Confusion whips up all around me;
A desert of the unexplained.
Words and phrases once meant to free
Now trap me in my pain.

A scarring biting nervous wind;
Shards of memories meant to maim.
Time is all I need to mend,
But my silence became a dying flame.

Dec.28.2019

Time is a relative  concept
I mean, have you ever
Felt like you teleported
From 11:00 to 1:00?
I have.
It’s an awkward mistake
That i all too often make.

All things can be broken.
From the Titanic,
To this spiraling pencil,
Nothing is indescribable.
Relationships included.

But not all things can be fixed.
A scarred and broken body may heal,
But it’s mind will never correct.
The memories will always haunt,
Old habits may die hard.

And maybe,
Just maybe,
A love for pain
Still resides.

Ebbing and flowing freely,
Unrestricted by man’s chains.
Nothing can ever stop this flow,
Or the luminescent lunar body
That raises these soulful waters.

Love is controllable,
I had it under my thumb.
Way back when, I liked someone,
But I switched my object of obsession,
In order to avoid imminent depression.
But That was just an interest; a fancy,
Now what I have is beyond my control,
Not only that, but it’s in a realm I cannot see.
So I’m stuck in this desolate, claustrophobic hole,
With no latter or rope to speak praise of,
I want to send myself a white dove,
And control or remove this hellish love.

Steady,
monotonous,
And visceral;
My heartbeat rages on.

A sleepless night ahead
With no rhyme nor reason
To back my nervous season.

Spreading wings
And releasing feathers,
The dove flies through
A ring of flame.

The scroll of negotiation
Unscathed by the battlefield.

Using System;

Namespace Poem
{
     Class Program
     {
          Main(string[] args)
          {
               Console.WriteLine(“1 or 0”);
               String dec = Console.ReadLine();

               bool life;

               if (desc == 1)
               {
                    life = true;
               }
               else
               {
                    life = false;
               }

               string msg = MADNESS(life);

               Console.WriteLine(msg);
               Console.ReadLine();
               life = !life;

               Console.WriteLine(life.ToString());
               Console.ReadLine();
          }

          Public Static String MADNESS(bool life)
          {
               bool suffering = false;

               if(life == true)
               {
                    suffering = !suffering;
                    return “madness ensues.”;
               }
               else
               {
                    suffering = false;
                    return “madness took over.”;
               }
          }
     }
}

I am a poet,
Who is only 16.
I am:
****** in speech,
Lacking a lot of street smart,
But in fact rather book smart.

A 16 year old boy,
Who watches cute anime,
Is incredibly weak to cute things,
Is buying an acoustic guitar...

And listens to metal music.
KORN, TOOL, Slipknot, and Disturbed
ICE NINE KILLS, shinedown, and Atreyu.
These wild bands help me get pumped up.

This is who I am, and will be
forever, if time allows
This is just me.
Another unknown poet.

There’s always someone
Who you’ll be able
To make smile.

So if you won’t believe in yourself,
Then believe in the me
That believes in you,
And your dreams can come true.

Three crows
Upon a line.
Three crows
Here to dine.

Lines are drawn
Upon the sky’s
Deep blue lawn.
The third crow
Was just a pawn.

Two crows,
Where’s the third?
Who knows.

I'm here,
at a table.

A white tablecloth,
holding a poster
sits in front of me.

This precarious
group
of four
finally finishes
a frustrating part.

A wave of
euphoria
swept over all

jumping up
I looked across
the white expanse
and noticed
something
new

She's right there
Who?
I didn't pay attention
beforehand

we lock eyes.
She suddenly becomes

e v e r y t h i n g

and I become

nothing...

This isn’t right.
My actions
Are devoid of light.
I run bluff after bluff,
So apparently,
Living life isn’t hard enough.
I act all high and mighty,
But if I’m asked in earnest,
I’ll get an early start on my nightly

Breakdown.

As I lay in this field,
The sun shines its rays upon my skin.
A shadow is created upon the
Opposing side of my delicate body,
Darkening the once golden grass,
Now degraded to a lackluster bronze.

My shaded half is becoming uncomfortably cool,
Because Jack Frost nibbles at the exposed skin,
Seeing it as a wonderful midmorning snack.

My better half, however,
Shines with a soft, unobstructed glow.
Filled with a calming, serene warmth
Generated by the ever shining sun,
I continue to lay in my solitary love of myself...

But as I lay here,
I realize that I don’t know
Why I despise all of myself so severe.

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.

Every word
Every phrase
Every line
Every time
I pull a blank.

My mind is writing
From a odd feeling state
But it’s power is dwindling
And my drowsiness is kindling
For a inferno yet to come.

Why should I write?
Many reasons present themselves.

To not end my life,
Prove that I’m not good,
Release of emotion
To refrain from bleeding

But now,

I write to love
And show this love
To that unwatching eye.

Swimming fields of grass
Set to lay in the setting sun.

The day shall soon pass,
Yet the night has just begun!

A push back to reality,
A play full of comity,
And a couple of songs,
Brought end to the calamity.

Still in disarray,
My body will pay
For tricking me
In such an awful way.

Where I might go?
I do not know,
But I feel that I’ll start to
Follow my blood’s flow.

Dec.28.2019

To see this sight once again,
strikes me with a heartwarming awe.
I am alight once again,
the blue flame has consumed me again,
but it changes as does the tides,
into a vernal green flame,
flowing with flowery life.

It has changed a lot since a year ago,
even why I have done it.
I feel much better, but I wish
I really do wish,
that it didn't have to be solved like this.

Dawn the helm of war,
Nothing else matters anymore.
But when all means
Meet their ends,
Dreams subtly was ashore.
You made this all go away,
But now you’re what I can’t see;
A fading reminder
Of what I used to be.

The pages lie before me, still lined.
The night is stalking closer,
I don't need to mind.

A light lies beyond the wall;
A wall to block it's flares.
even in this darkness, I'll stand tall.

These pages have now turned blind,
it's too dark for them to see,
and no more are they lined.

The cook books lie
In the realm of bakers,
Those who pass are to die
And meet their makers.

The time draws out
And the sweets stop arriving.
We will cry and pout,
But the bakers keep on thriving.

The shops have closed doors,
So we skip the baker forts.
The acidly cold rain pours,
But neither side makes retort.

In times like these our town begins to drop,
We can only hope for the demise
Of the dreaded baker shop.

Why should I let you
Wind up my dreams for me?
Why should I follow through,
If you won’t let me be free?

The trees sit through health and blight,
The forest sits among the trees,
But I could never see the sight
Because you dropped me on my knees.

You promise salvation
But you’ve led me too deep,
And I know, with trepidation,
That the only salvation is in my sleep

Why should I let you be the light
When I only see you as a blight?

Summoned stars
Shining in a frigid world.
They’re so cold
So lay your hands on me;
I’ll feel alive.

Am I afraid to fall?
Or am I just in fear
Of unavoidable pain?

Love is the only sport
Where I won’t land on my feet.

Repulsive figures
Glaring from the sidelines.
Living on a lost road,
Looking sidelong at a toad.
The arrow fades to blue
and I’m looking at you,
Yes, both of you.

A selfish desire lead me astray,
I wanted to help her in any way,
But I think I’m really just gay.
He looked at me when others looked away,
He has always helped make my day.

But it disgustates my narrowed mind
To think I’d like a dude in this kind.

An indecisive bi,
At least I should try
To make a **** decision...
Before my arm feels division.

Why do we insist
To wear a plastic visage
Even in front of that one person
Who’s eyes are the daggers
That crack the defenseless mask
And reveal the real you.

A spike;
Cold, torturous,
And reminiscent
of the eternal void.

The void is a reflection
Of what lies inside me.
Relinquishing the reigns,
I let my demise
Become the torture
For my miserable actions.

Ashes fall
Upon crows in flight.
Cawing in
A cloaked night.

Dancing sparks;
Floating up high.
The raven’s barks;
A simmering cry.

As the ashes call the crows,
The sparks burn the ravens.

Wide and vast,
A world has stood.
Lucky to be
Unparalleled
In the eyes of man.
Gracious fields of grass, and
Indefinably blue seas rule.

A planet made for all.

Squirming out of the rubble,
I stand on an empty battlefield.

No thoughts of war remain,
And no matter how much
I rack my brain,
I cannot feel war’s breath
Or even her pain.

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.

An object of hatred?
Or an article that
Appends additional anxiety?

A hand that let go,
Allowing me to fall into the flow.
Another that grabbed on
But it’s grasp now weakens.

The fear of knowledge
Overriding my yearn for it,
My fear of the answer
Increasing beyond finites, bit by bit.

I wonder if something like that
Is really the truth,
Or is it just her hidden tone
That venomizes my mind
And removes rational thought.

I can't help myself
from the abrupt distraction
of that tiny fly

A silent slimmer
Of this silvery hope
Lies untainted,
untouched.
I see its natural beauty
through the crumbling wall,
Its reverent radiance
Residing upon my face,
Turning it into
The same silvery hope
That I am lucky to gaze upon.

This decrepit wall never needed
To come crashing and crumbling down,
I just needed to become the silver
That slips through its openings,
And rise into my rightful freedom.

Flickering lamps,
Dimming circles.

Lights running low,
Damp pavement
Reflecting their soft glow.

A muggy alleyway
With another at its end.
Another alleyway,
Where the light has stiffened.

How many more times
Will I die
Before I find life
In its scarcest places?

Behind this mask of words
Lies a mind of numbers
And calculations, rampant in herds.

A mind of thinking,
A mind never stopping
Not
Even
For
One

S i n g l e

Second!

Always running
Toofasttocomprehend
But fast enough to understand.

A mind running off words
Does in fact exist,
As an auxiliary unit
But the math brain is my init.

Two sides of the same coin.
Think rapid, like gold circuitry,
But more blunt than a butchery.

As darkness falls
The world becomes a shroud,
In which the smallest lights
Beckon forth
A sea of illumination.

I’m taking a break from poetry.
I’ve been forcing myself to write lately,
And it hasn’t been fun.
I’ll still read some poetry,
But I probably won’t be posting much.
Only when an idea is to vivid not to write,
I will post it.

I’ll be back to posting at some point.
It could be tomorrow,
It could be next March,
I have no clue.
But I will be back.

Swimming through the void,
I hear your words,
I lose myself
Just to find you holding me.

The time slows to a crawl,
And I’m warmed by the light you’ve brung.
Your words are preached and sung,
The words hit as comfort,
But not comprehension.

Wills,
Dragging beyond minds.
Paper,
To receive the soul’s signature;
An inken mark of individuality.
Ink to paper, fire to ice,
The continuity of the duality.

My mistress of sleep,
Slowly, silently, and seductively
Slips off her vantablack velvet robe,
And squeezes herself into my head.

She beckons in my mistress of dreams,
And seduces my mind into a sleepy *******...
Of sleep.

What else could it have been...
Jeez~! you people have ***** minds...