I doubt our lips will ever touch again.
And I really don't mind at all
Who knows maybe one day this ice will melt.
And maybe we could still be friends.

We are a mighty band of misfits.
Riding out through no where on a hot summers day.
With our pale skin cooked and our tired eyes barely slits.
Merely to hear bands we've come to Love play.

I laughed as you stumbled over your words.
It was obvious my presence made you nervous because I have never seen you stumble over anything.
But at the end of the night I was the one who really stumbled.
Because I missed my shot to make you leave with me.
I hope it was not my only one.

I am the best at making mountains out of mole hills.
I rip my ideas up and start fresh, but in the end nothing works.
Maybe I should follow my friends path and sell pills.
Or maybe rob some poor grocery store clerk.
I bet I could outrun the cops.
Maybe I'll go live on one of those mountains I made.

My ideas are once again bursting out of my mind.
And the one idea I don't have is where to start.
So thank you for helping me find the key to unlock it all.

I once had goals.
Now they're bigger.
But these goals of mine offer only one thing to those I care about.
Pain.
But if I don't make my own path I would bring myself the same.

Forgive me for my selfishness.

I try to act brave like  nothing bothers me.
But I can't lie to myself and I can't lie to you.
It seems my fears are tied to sounds because what my mind won't let me see i can hear just fine.
The horrible cackle from a white faced buffoon.
A little boy crying wishing his Mom would come home because Daddy kept yelling and praying he didn't find him because the fists were worse.
The crash of trees in dark strange forest and the smell of old death.
But the worst of all is when its nothing at all.
Because that is the sound of you forgetting me.

Pain is not new to me.
In fact its a welcome friend.
There is something about sore feet and not being able to lift my arms above my head.
That helps me feel whole again.

Many years ago I made plans to write a novel.
I gave up because my attention was drawn elsewhere.
But it seems I've rediscovered a lost passion.
I can't help but enjoy being around people who are as addicted to this drug as myself.

You ask me to tell you about myself.
And honestly I would like to share myself with you.
As long as you share yourself with me too.
But I wonder how much of me you'll want to see when you realize.
I'm not all light underneath.

I often question whether or not the choices I make are always the best.
But as walked down the street of a place I'll soon call home I feel relief.
And I think back to the pain it took to get here.
And ahead to the pain on the horizon.
But for once in my ******* life I feel this choice is one hundred percent right.
So let the pain flow on me.
Because I stopped running from it quite some time ago.

It seems this story likes to see me fail.
Sometimes I wish I could skip ahead to see where this all ends.
But over thinking is what got me here.
And I have no problem letting the unknown take me over.

Sometimes when I'm alone in my little corner of this world.
I think of all the horrible things I've done.
The bridges I've burned, the ignorant things I've said, the people I've let down.
And then I think of now of you and how soon you'll be one of those people.

But then the sun rises and I go to you.
And my blissful ignorance and unquestioning confidence sets in.
I enjoy living in these beautiful daydreams.
But now as I sit in this little corner I wonder if one day.
That these daydreams will become just that.

Merely a **Dream.

If I were to describe myself.
I would say I'm a night person.
There is something about the hours after the sun goes down and the stars come out.
That gives me peace of mind.
That things may not always seem so bright.
But that doesn't mean they are without beauty.

Giving up for you is not an option.
Because whether you believe me or not you're the best at what you do.
You are more comfortable two feet in the air than on the ground.
I kissed your calloused feet because they give you the flight you love so much.
So please don't give up on yourself like you gave up on me.
Because I will never give up on the Love I have for you.

I'm a man nothing less.
But as such I am also nothing more.

My mind is filled with riddles I cannot solve.
Like why would a man fall in love when he knows it can ****.

My heart is like fire which means my words must be smoke.
This is why I hate their smell when they pour from my mouth.

After today there is no other way to say it.
It doesn't mean I'm any less concerned if anything I'm more so.
Because now I have something to lose.
But it also means I have something to fight for.

It has been a while since I have wrote my thoughts out.

Perhaps its laziness or perhaps a fear of who I have been in the past.

But, as I stop to pack a few more things from the closet of my mother's home.

A handful made me smile, and made me feel the need to put my thoughts down somewhere.

A few Polaroids and some old notes from a girl who was once my whole world, but haven't talked to in years.

I wish her nothing but happiness, and I am eternally grateful for the happy memories we shared.

A tiny christmas tree small enough to put on a night stand, I remember a night in college that tree in the center of our dorm sitting and laughing with the man who is to this day my closest friend.

And of course the fresh wound.

My fathers golf clubs.

At first it's the happy memory of me and my father putting a golf ball across the small patch of grass behind his trailer drinking beer and enjoying a cool summer breeze.

Inevitably though any memories of my father return to that day just this past July.

Sitting next to the hospital bed clutching his hand and watching light fade from his eyes.

But, that was yesterday.

Today is a day to pack, I need to return home to the woman with whom I share my bed.

Groceries need bought, chores done, cats fed.

And come Monday work will need done a future of my making is calling me forward to each new day.

So for now I'll simply take these old memories and tuck them away.

I'm done burying myself.
I've been done for awhile now.
Now i'm just sitting on the ground on my busted up coffin.
And I wonder how much higher I can go.

I don't live in my past anymore.
I packed up and moved on.
I suppose that is why I told you of my childhood.
Its just odd to me.
Because I've never been open before.
I guess this is a start.

Peace is uncommon to me.
Its a commodity I rarely had growing up.
But its all I feel now.
I always thought peace meant standing still.
But it isn't because I'm in constant motion.
I've learned that peace at least for me.
Is being able to forgive my past, but also move on.
And be excited for my future, but not stress myself on the details.
For me peace and happiness are one in the same.
And right now your smile is what brings me peace.

I have made many promises to you.
And though we may never go eat tacos.
I maintain that a piece of me will always Love you.
And honestly I can't wait for us to meet again when we're 21.
But this is about me keeping my last promise to you.
To let you know when I'm moving on.
This probably won't be the last poem meant for you.
Just don't be surprised when they're about someone new.

We could be those runaway kids you see on milk cartons.
Leave this town flee to somewhere warmer.
Where the grass grows green and wild and the people accept us.
But she acts like I'm joking.
And I know she would rather stay in this little town with a little family.
And live a happy stable long life.
But I've already seen too much this world has to offer.
And I don't think I can be happy with that little bit.

But that is a poem for another day.
Because today I'm still here and so is she.
And today I like to think with a little convincing she could be.
My little Runaway.

Growing up he and I shared so much.
But he never felt like family.
Though we are of the same blood he never felt like a brother.
But I don't resent him for that.
I made my own family of just me.
And it may sound cold, but at the end of the day I'm the only human I need.
And for now that's perfectly fine with me.

I write down my thoughts so they can breathe.
Don't mistake them for poetry.
I write to prove to myself that even on days I awake with my own blood on my hands.
I still am sane.
Or at least something similar to that.
Because if I was truly sane I would hate myself.
And I grew tired of that many months ago.

Just a little shadow boy always second place.
It doesn't even matter if you really won the race.

No one will ever believe you when you say that one day your going somewhere.
But I suppose the shock on their faces will make the victory twice as sweet when you finally get there.

So run on little shadow boy and no matter how hard it may seem.
Because at the end of the day this life is only a dream.

I think I rediscovered sleep.
It's an odd sensation.
I think I like it though.
I guess getting out of those hills was all I needed.
And although I didn't run very far.
I never want to go back.
In fact I want to see just how far I can run.

Now I sit in my room surrounded by darkness and silence.
But for once I think I would rather be somewhere else.

I would rather be with you wrapped in each others arms as you doze on my chest.
I want to sit there with you as you frantically put on lipstick.
Because my mouth made yours turn purple.
I want to sit on your couch and watch silly movies and listen to your laugh.
I Love my dark corner it helps me to think and prepare for my next adventure.

But you my darling are beginning to overtake my thoughts even now.
Still I don't want to rush this because that is not how my heart works.
Still I can't help but wonder what it would take.
To make your body intertwine with mine.

I woke up only to find you asleep.
I could sit here and try to wake you, but I don't know how.
Maybe the sound of the door shutting will wake you up.
You know where to find me if it does.

I've never been overly fond of these.
Mainly because most of my peers annoy the **** out of me.
You made every one I went to special though.
Even when I was tired and slow (**** that ****)
I don't know how I'll take this one alone.
Hell maybe if I had ***** I'd ask and you still go.

I have no idea where I'm going.
But I'll never get there by slowing down.
So I will walk on.
Until my feet no longer touch the ground.

I sat in silence as I watched a man practically get booed of stage.
He only wanted to tell jokes, to make us laugh and be happy.
What did he get for his hard work?

Faces of stone and the occasional awkward chuckle.
Another artist who couldn't appease the peoples desires.

I felt pity, but I guess it was more sympathy.
Because I know what it feels like to stumble over words like they were marbles strewn along the ground.
I bet I would have the same experience as him.
So why do I still want to **stand-up?

I see my cowardice staring back at me.
"You're gonna back out. You always do.) he says.
Not this time and with that he begins to fade.
I can't help but wonder if he's really gone.
Or if I just can't hear him any more.
I guess we'll see.

This is what you wanted.
So stop holding back.
Why do you care what these people think of you?
We both know that you want the real California.
And you'll get there.
But this is where you wanted to start.
*Make it count.

I've always been a bit of a story teller.
It's just something I've come to enjoy.
So I hope people will be able to understand that when I cover my body in ink.
That I'm telling my own story for once.

For hours we talked.
Exchanging jokes and smiles.
And just an overall feeling of joy.
And through it all you knew your mother was still in a hospital bed.
Yet you still can laugh with this lost boy.
You my dear are much stronger than I.

I feel like doing something stupid.
Something that would surprise even you.
I guess we'll see just how stupid I can be.

It's so close I can almost taste it.
Loud music and sweaty teenage bodies dancing like mad men all around me.
Ocean breezes and late nights sleeping in my car listening to the waves.
Bottle rockets and roman candles the glow of the fire the glint of freedom in my eyes.
Skateboards, ****** cars, generic ***, and bad ****.
And laughing at our parents who think we'll be like them.
I wish you would join me not as a farewell but as a new hello.
Because this is just the beginning and as long as I breathe it will never end.
Because I promised myself I'll never be boring again.