To say I'm stressed would be an understatement.
But then again who isn't.
Every person cradles their problems in their hands and their scars on their backs.
Often unaware that the person next to them caring a similar load.
That is not to say anyone's problems mean less than another's.
Just that everyone has them.
And sometimes people need help to carry them.
I have many goals in life, places to see, land to save, pieces to write, and people to Love.
But I will do my best to always be there to help someone carry a load.
Not because I think I'm a saint.
But because I've felt weight that I couldn't bare alone.

The devil's in the details.
A family, fame, and retail.
It all seems so simple till you try to grasp it.
And we watch the news laughing at the people who fail.
While terrified in knowing we're all only hanging by the tips of our nails.
Yet so much more lost we'd all be if we hadn't snatched it.
Maybe that's when life starts change we tend to go pale.
Cause its not the big picture we're scared of, because the devil's in the details

I can bring worlds to life with a pen or keyboard.
I can tell stories that can make people laugh or bring tears to their eyes.
I can stare into the eyes of death and smile.
I know this because I've done all these things.

But why is it that whenever I try to make you notice me.
And I look into those icy blue eyes.
My tongue gets tied in knots.

I'll put life off till tomorrow.
When so I can have a better shot at whatever I tried to do today.
Maybe I won't trip over my own feet.
Maybe I'll manage to speak to the next person I meet.

But not everything can be pushed to tomorrow.
But those are the things that'll I start working at late.
And by the time I'm finished it might be tomorrow.

But for right now tomorrow can wait.

I'll see you again.
For now though I'll just play pretend.
That your sitting in one of the planes that we see flying overhead.
On your way to a foreign land.

I know I make you nervous.
You've told me that much.
Because when you're with me you forget about him.
While I try to ignore how easy it would be for our lips to touch.

You said this summer you would try to forget about me.
I guess it's because he gives you safety.
And I guess I'm a bit of a leap.
So guess I'll try to forget about you too.
But I'll admit that's not easy to do.

When every-time I close my eyes all I see are your sky blue's

I've spent the last month of my life teaching children to respect the earth.
I don't know how much truly got through.
What I do know though is that some times it's the smallest seeds that give rise to the greatest trees.
And that gives me hope.

So much to do and so little time.
I feel like soon I may need to refresh my mind.
Though right now I'm getting by pretty well.
I feel like I'm getting better everyday though at what I can't tell.
Maybe I'm just getting better at being myself.
And I feel like that's all I ever really needed.

I quit smoking because I thought it was pushing the people I thought mattered away.
I quit sleeping around because I thought I found people who wouldn't judge me on how often I get laid.

So why do I still feel like I am getting pushed away.
I'm pretty sure it's all in my head.
But in away that scares me more.

I dreamt of you two nights in a row.
We were happy in both.
I suppose that means something.

Two months to go.
I'm busier everyday, and I know you are too.
But I still find plenty of time to miss you.

Is it weird that I want summer to end?
Or at least go by quicker, just for me.
So I can fall asleep smiling.
With ***** on my tongue and reddish blonde hair laying across my chest.

I almost got shot today.
Literally.
But now she thinks I'm a rebel.
That still wouldn't have been worth it though.

I'm all out of love poems.
At least for right now.
Though I could talk of an English girl whose heart I had to refuse.
Or the girl with fire hair.
Who in spite of summer heat I managed to stay true.
For right now I'm all out of love poems at least until I see you.

Bones eventually will break.
Skin eventually will tear.
If young love can't learn to stay young then eventually it will die.
But what you believe.
Your passions and dreams.
Only you can decide when they break.
This is what I've learned to believe.
So the next time I breakdown.
Everything I'm building now won't fall with me.

Light peaks through these eyes.
Bright with life, at looking to something more.
Or maybe just something regular.
You know because as much as I fear the word Love.
It often occurs to me that just don't know what is.
I know I've given and been given it.
But  I never really stopped long enough to see what it was.
And I don't know why I'm writing about Love at 2:30 in the morning.
I guess I want to share something with someone to keep us from losing touch.

At midnight I drove.
No real intention of coming home.
While I was home though I thought I saw her.
I thought I talked to you.
Half the time I was so ****** ****** though so I'm not even sure.

I only smoke when I drink.
Just like I only live when I think.
Just like I only love when I get on the brink of losing my mind.
So I guess that's not love then.
I know I've loved before, but I'm not sure if I knew then.
I know I love who I am and what I'm working to.
But I don't know if I'll ever love you.
I guess the beautiful thing is that I could.
I don't know if I want to though.
Because everyone I've ever opened to either accepted me.
Or ran away.
And the one thing I know for sure is I don't want you to run away.
And lately I've been really feeling like a good smoke could clear my head.
But I only smoke  when I drink.
And when I drink I don't think.
And when I don't think I don't live.
And to be honest that's all I really want to do right now.

Life is good.
Yet I feel uneasy.
Maybe I'm concerned about where I'll be next year.
Maybe I'm concerned because I can take the family I've found here with me.
I feel like it will work out.
In fact I'm positive it will.
I just don't know how.
Or why I'm so confidant.
I guess that's why I'm uneasy...

I left with no money and no girl.
But I came home with so much more.
Friends worth more than gold.
Stories that still amaze me.
And a passion that drives me more than any lover.

I look in the mirror and what I see looks nothing like me.
The bags under my eyes are nearly gone and my acne is replaced by stubble and razor cuts.
I learned to sleep, but I prefer to stay awake.
Because when I dream I see faces that I miss, the girl that I never kissed.
And possibly never will.
So I take my coffee black just like the ink in my pen.
And I wander through this new town which was kinder to me my first day.
Than the one I came from was to me my whole life.
And I think about my future and question where it leads.
And I look back at my past to look for dots to connect that lead me to my present, but all I see are jagged lines going no where.
At least its good to know one thing never changes.
That I still don't know where I'm going.
But that's okay, because if college has taught me anything yet.
Its that no one does.

My eyes feel glazed over like a steam covered mirror.
I don't really care if you think you see me clearer.
Than she did.
Because you won't be here long.
I'd hate to hurt you, but I don't need any tie downs right now.
Then again maybe I do, but I don't think that's you.
I don't mean to be cold.
I don't feel that I am.
My priorities are just set in front of me.
Because I can't be like my brother and wait for **** to be done for me.

Life is too short not to bet on the long shots.
Which is what I'm guessing you see me as.
Now I'm not saying forever.
Hell I'm not even saying tomorrow.
But tonight lets make a bet.
And if we don't feel the same when we're sober.
Let us go on with no regrets.

I smile as I taste the blood in my mouth.
Not a lot nothing to be worried about.
Just pushing myself too hard again.
It's just what I do.

I had three chances to talk to her today.
All of which I blew.
I think she actually likes me.
But I'll probably over-think it.
It's just what I do.

I tend **** up a lot.
From not calling home to friends or family.
To getting drunk to the point where I almost got arrested.
It's just what I do.

But tomorrow's a new day.
And even if I have to work till everything hurts.
Till my pens all run dry and my brain goes mad.
I'll become more than what my parents dreamed me to be.
I promised my self that.
And I always do my best to keep my promises.
It's just what I do.

Is there not something beautiful in the idea of being alone.
I don't mean being lonely because believe me I know.
That's a feeling worse, than broken bones.
No  but there is something about being alone.
Going 80 down a back-road in the middle of the night.
Window cracked, and music full blast.
And you don't really have to worry about tomorrow.
Yeah I would say there can be something beautiful about being alone.

I like the sound of the rain bouncing off my leather jacket.
I like the smell of the *** smoke in my hair.
I like the burn of the ***** in my throat.
And I know that this will get me no where.
But right now I don't care.

I sometimes get the urge just to pick up everything and disappear.
Leave no trace cut all ties to the life I've made.
Run to some foreign place and become so famous that the whole world can see my face.
Or maybe I'll vanish into the woods and become nothing more than a story parents tell their kids at night.
I just want something more than this.

Don't tell me you're a follower of God.
If you can't spare a dollar for the man on the street.
Who bled for the war that you said we needed.
Which led to the exodus of the innocents that you now claim are heathens.
Which was sparked by a heating world caused by your people.
Who drilled into this planet to make billions of the dollars that you can't give to the man on the street.

Life is beautiful even when it breaks your mind.
Unnecessary stress and tired eyes derived from nothing really.
At least nothing that would have lasted.
Then again we tend to care the most for the things that don't last.
Or maybe its just me.
It doesn't matter anymore really.
Nothing but water under the bridge.
Eyes already looking to something new while trying not to distance you.
Because I wouldn't mind if you changed yours.
Or at least if your going to continue to be in my apartment don't act like its weird that I'm here.
What I should be saying though is don't be surprised when someone new arrives.
Because I've had enough waiting this time.

If I'm never king of anything.
If I fail to save the world.
If I never meet the one.
I'll still be a success if I manage to leave with no regrets.

I know I'll never stop trying to be better than I was yesterday.
Sometimes though all I want to do is nothing.
I don't know if that is wrong or not.
Sometimes I feel too much.
Sometimes nothing at all.
I'll keep trying though.
Because if I can't help me.
Maybe I can help someone else.
And I like to think that some days that's all I'll need.

Beautiful interstate.
Hallways to a home I'll soon inherit.
They keep telling me that the only downside to the life I've chosen.
Is constant motion.
Maybe an older wiser me will complain.
But for now I'll keep getting ready.
Because if these roads are my hallways.
Then I can't wait to see the rest of this home.

When the people of this earth are all gone.
The floating rock will still spin on.
Trees will grow where we once laid our streets.
And all the problems I once had.
All the things we thought were good or bad.
Will be just a faint mark on the floating rock.
A single spark lost like all the others in the dark.
And while I believe my soul will be more.
This much I know for sure.
And that's that if I want to be remembered on this floating rock.
Then I should spend my life making it a better rock.
Because while we each only have a little spark.
It just takes one kind spark to light up the dark.

I wish I could remember how to have a conversation.
One where I could say what I actually felt.
But until I do I'll stick to my corny jokes, and sarcastic comments.
Because if I can't make myself admit how much you mean to me.
At least I can make you laugh.

I think I'm afraid of getting comfortable.
Both around my friends, and with myself.
So I end up holding back so much of who I am.
Which is unfortunate because I'm not even sure if there is much in me to start.
I like to think there is.
At the very least I think there is more than this.