Walk all over me
you are not the first
cleanse the dirt thats on your sole
make my condition worse

I had greetings upon me once
but the welcome has been worn
the corners became blunt
the edges hold forlorn

Tread upon the surface
thats left outside the door
soil every crevice
until its purpose serves no more

I believe
when it all boils down to it
the majority of us
would rather have nothing
with someone
than everything
with no one.

The difference
between your failed relationships
and mine
Is that I am willing
to admit the fault being my own
instead of blaming
the opposite gender
in its entirety.

I have learned
that unwillingness
to relinquish your past
will only
taint your present
and haunt your future
our fragile human souls
can only carry so much
sometimes,
  some things,
are made for letting go

I believed in magic once
but I think it may have died
for I cant remember the last time
I looked into your eyes.

Referred to as a coin toss
Would they really know the cost?
Saying better to have loved and lost
than not to have at all
I don't know which is worse
or which would cause more hurt
to never have known of such love
or lose it to an endless search

There is nothing more that I hate
besides my uncertainty

I always found
vulgarity endearing
Because *******
That's why

Thanks guys, finally hit 1k hearts without too much social engineering. lol

but i must say. . .

HP has disappointed me as of late. . . asking for donations (which I have paid being a long time user) but I wonder how much of that goes to this new #hastag system. . . I liked this site because it was plain, easy to use, and the poetry spoke for itself without all these lousy social networking features everyone is using.  I liked that it wasnt a popularity contest where the work could speak for itself. . . It doesnt feel that way anymore. Sorry, maybe some of you like it, but the one place that was once my favorite avenue to share my work, may soon no longer be.

I almost said I'm sorry
I typed it out in text
but then I sat in worry
over what may come next

At the bottom of a bottle
wallowing in sorrow
I critiqued my writings
and said I'll send them tomorrow

It told you I still love you
and I'm haunted with regret
I have been so selfish
with all I wish I hadn't said

I awoke in the morning
with a clearer head
read it all again
and chose not to send

I deleted the message
I know it sounds absurd
but in that moment of weakness
I still meant every word.

Throwing eggshells
In my path
And expecting
Me to tread lightly
Will never achieve
The results you desire
For I will always March
With the step of a soldier

These memories
are but little lingerings
as brief
as the warm breath
felt from a whisper into the ear
like a burnt tongue
or a splintered fingertip
whos pain is only recognized
with even the slightest of touch.

I am twisting
and contorting
changing form
What you'd call a monster

Disconnected
and detached
and debauched
human impostor

I am damaged
I am tainted
don't try to change it
you'll be devoured

I'm reshaping
and negating
the hands still helping
this world we're creating

Not losing hold
I am letting go
the lies we have been told
since so long ago.

Some feelings fade
but mine sit in the grave
talking to a tombstone
wishing they could be saved

I listened to Bukowski
Found what I love,
And let it **** me
But what do I do now?
I still seem to be breathing

Still waiting
for a friend to show up with beer
because I ran out
and I'm too drunk to go get more

Still waiting
for Jesus to hit me in the head
with a frying pan
and tell me I'm wrong

Still waiting
to wake up
without a hangover
and smokers cough

Still waiting
on a paycheck that is livable
and people that are bearable
pigs might as well fly

Still waiting
for that woman to save me
by accepting my flaws
instead of trying to change them

Still waiting
to leave my mark
on a planet bombed to ****
with an overabundance of meaningless

Still waiting
for peace, love
and all that poppycock
while I hide in the trenches of my mind
awaiting messages from
a war torn heart

Still waiting. . .

to write that immortal poem

Historic sonnet

Eternal song

The Romance rack
was a hundred
times larger than Poetry

I know that you're out there
I'm still searching for you
lets escape this nightmare
of a constant pursuit
I just want a fair share
in something that is true
This roads going nowhere
I need you to pass through

Dont have the time
I will not try
I must deny

a mediocre love


I will not try
I must deny
Dont have the time

for an ordinary love

Why don't you tell me, what path we're on
We've been wandering so long
if its going nowhere
I've already been there

Its a place where no one cares

So I'm veering from this
steering towards the wilderness
I would rather take the risk
than go where nothing exists.

If the mind ceases to wander
if what is sane becomes obtained
or find what I am after
blow out my ******* brains

If I ever feel complete
or somehow feel content
if struggle becomes obsolete
leave my life force to be spent

If everything seems normal
and no awkward words are spoke
or this existence thought as formal
just slit my ******* throat

If I ever am fulfilled
or become satisfied
my resolve will be killed
and my drive will surely die

My life existed
before your presence
I  never needed you
or to hear your voice
nor feel your touch
or share a moment
that brought a smile
to my face
in the worst of times
but I did want you
I still do
and that life
I look back on
feels that much
more empty
because of it.
Yet it still
merely exists
just as before

Have your fun
do your worst
I still run
despite the hurt

Cant adhere
pick the prongs
shear the gear
thats strung along

Beyond mentioned
misconceptions
fuel which I have ran upon
helps me to keep going strong

The words escape me
I can't describe
What feelings left?
Which still subside?
The love I used to write about
Fell silent after years of doubt.
My mind has finally won the war
Against what my heart has fought for.
I'm moving on, in hopes to find
One more deserving of my time

A day will come
When these hands that touched you
will whither to bone
And the mind
Which constantly cradled your memory
Will be no more
Along with the heart that loved you
Which will cease to beat
Although,
It feels as if they already have

I'm finally convinced
that I must be a Martian
this lonely existence
I just don't seem to fit in
anywhere with anyone
as my human heart still splits
They're all so well versed in uncaring
Why should I give a ****?
but hurt is all I have worth sharing
I feel like giving in
than living and nearing
being just like them.

I'm laying down my losing hand
I've held the cards way too long
I bet too much
on a long-shot
pockets in my heart empty
staring at the mismatched colors
and numbers
trying to make a pair
I could rarely keep
the queen of hearts stare
being just a jack of all trades
and going nowhere
I'm laying down my losing hand
and just may never play again.

The story was already told
sold so long ago
ending is enclosed
with a tale that no one knows

Can I control the characters fate?
Can I make whats in store?
It seems as if I am too late,
how long should one fight for?

How much of my soul has it stole?
I fold the cover over
fable done, stand as one

Still the story hovers.

Sitting here as the end rears
wish to not close this book
far or near
We still adhere

and choose just not to look

Afraid to turn the page
its the last of this chapter
stayed for whats an age
chasing every letter.

Do I submit the ending blurred
or admit to this confessing?
Do I choose to include her,
or leave everyone guessing?

Do I pretend no tragic end
is worth a farther pressing?

I'm not the man I used to be
who once fought diligently
its something I did not foresee

I think the fight has left me

Despite any guilty plea
this purpose lacks veracity
my cares become atrocities

I think the fight has left me

All this animosity
and endless hostility
I leave my weapon hand free

I think the fight has left me

Hell is hard to escape
  When it's between your ears.

Ignorance would be a great excuse
if I didn't know that would be a lie
at least I never pointed the finger
knowing it was I
who meticulously created this world. .

Romanced by how it
carelessly went against the grain of conformity
I fell in love with the worst of people
because it just came across
as the only time I saw honesty

I never wanted the house and family
with a white picket fence
a mini van and 2.5 children
getting grey hairs over my credit score

just to croak a few years before retirement
from a heart attack,
because the electric bill was so high.

I wanted my reasons to be genuine
not following the empty dreams
built by a crumbling society
******* its morals, laws and values
into a Petri dish
just to dissect it under a microscope
to create the end all, be all weapon.

Of our disenchantment
our detachment
emotional abandonment

I saw torture as triumph
partaking in poison
hailing the hemlock
smoke was salvation
I adored the ******
I praised the pain
Wearing my scars like badges of honor
misery was my undying muse,

Maybe it all still is. . .

Yet I cant say it wasn't a good run
there were many times I actually felt close
to being alive

With long nights, and lost days
nursing my head
putting the splintered memories
back together
in a puzzle of madness
and fractals of experiences
but its taking its toll
and I'm ready to give happiness a chance
try a different path
Resurrect myself from this prolonged death.

because if you focus on the dark for too long
it becomes all that you see.

Chaos
has been
a better friend to me
than faith

I should have wrote that down
before I went about my day
If I try and rewrite it now
never will it sound the same

I make gremlin noises
  Whenever I slam too much whiskey.

I'm starting to dream again
stopped dwelling in my sins
I quit fearing feelings I've numbed
since we first began
I stopped wondering when
accepted whats within
There is no need to feel complete
I can live on a whim

I feel the monster clawing out of me
hes breaking free
from the cage that contained
every disturbing memory
I try to drown them
but they will not leave
and ignoring him
only makes it more angry
When the surface breaks
what will I be?
As my compassion
gets devoured by reality.

Sometimes I get angry
that it is so easy
for me to invoke emotion
in others
yet so hard
to do so
within myself.
Then I realize
that at least I still feel something.

These songs
  *These poems
    These words
       These odes

I once believed
They made me a hopeless romantic,
But now I feel like a vicious predator
How they bite
with sharp venomous teeth
Instead of caress
With warm soft hands.

I'm just fine
fine at fooling myself,
fine at fooling you.
As we all toss each other
the same routine
of weary smiles
and hollow pleasantries.
Sitting here with little
still seems like too much to hold on to.
Watching all that I love
contorted into to lust,
and my visions misshapen.
Buying into the *****
of these shadowy pimps
pushing the American dream.
I feel too awake to buy into it
yet half asleep,
in some prolonged
red, white, and blue haze.
Where we gaze upon the stars
through a pin hole.
Shackled to currency
trying to walk amongst
those grown feral
sniffing out its scent.
A drop of blood in water
a thousand miles away
Yet I'm still trying somehow,
to buy something back
anything that reminds me
I am human.
Swallowing the hemlock,
to push myself
through living the lie,
and help me choke down
the *******
we all like to feed each other. .

Sure, Im fine.

I
just
     WISH
that I
      could have
APPLIED
  myself
         more. . . .

Memories escape my mind



Through the outside of my eyes.

Inside a society
thats growing more resentful
they would rather see you fail
instead of be successful
my purpose starts to dwindle
chasing unrealistic goals
any warmth that still remains
is stolen by the cold
maybe I'm just tired,
perhaps I got old
all my passions have expired
under moss and mold.
The fabric is unraveling
fraying at the hem
This war I fight is maddening
to not be just like them

I'm a kind of tired that sleep can't fix
in a game gone amiss where no one wins
in a race stuck in place that don't begin
where every action is seen as sin

I am kind of lost where no compass
can find a home or points to bliss
facing the wind as I ****
the stains on my soles will iterate this

Im the kind of mad that lacks their tricks
a sad gone bad that cant be nixed
perplexed and had caught in the mix
as it all comes down like a ton of bricks

An introvert to escape the hurt
whos grew quite sick of chasing skirts
nomad on the landscape scraping dirt
disguising a grave as a yurt

The forbidden fruit
has long since
rotted from the vine

If
the truth
deters your desires
they are not worthy.

Here I go again
giving another spin
a hotel room
a messy bed
empty bottle of gin
We laugh and lie
I stroke her thighs
and meet the eyes
colored a shade of why
but I must confess
shes caressing a carcass
twisted by his sins
even in such times
in know in my mind
where my soul would rather have been

Yes I wrote a book
it was on my bucket list
or at least thats what I say
since its mainly dismissed
Just sold my 57th copy
I suppose thats not too bad
because its 57 more copies
than if I never had.

I am but a mote of dust
floating in the sunbeams
shining through the blinds
behind a locked window
that you refuse to open.

Taking necessities from many
to provide
luxuries
for the few