I don't really know how to write poetry
I don't really like showing my emotions
So I guess I'll try my best
Because honestly, I'm just going though the motions

How do you think
it feels to be
poor and insane,
looking for
doorways to sleep
in, to creep in out
from the rain?

As a little boy,
I used to fish in
a small quiet
pond on the west
side of town,
catching bluegills in
the young afternoon sun;
sleepy neighborhood,
low crime, safe and serene.
I owned those
autumn days long
ago, bought cheap; the price
of a dozen night crawlers,
and a bobber.

At thirty nine years old,
one October
afternoon, I stumbled
back to my own little
Walden.
Not much had
changed, the old
wooden steps on the
east side of the
pond were still
there. I crawled
under them, ******
myself and passed out,
dreaming of
bluegills, cattails
and young easy autumn
days.

like water
I poured myself into her until she was overflowing at the brim

like reinforced steel
I bridged my heart to hers and welded myself to her soul

like the sun
I filled myself with light to cover her darkness

like a blanket
I shielded her from the harsh world underneath the covers

like magnets
I orbited her aura until we inevitably collided

like a seed
I felt myself growing up from her

Then, like an idiot
I could tell she felt nothing.

Been a long long time now,
stuck here down below.

I don't know what I'm doing here.
I don't know how I got here,
Maybe I do, but all I can see,
at the way top above,
glimpse of a sunlight
through a tiny hole.

I've tried so many times,
trying to crawl back to the sunlight.

The walls are too slippery,
There's no ledges to hold on to...

feel so scared in the dark,
as I am the only one.
yet I feel so ashamed,
even though there are no eyes of anyone.

Each day I wake up, Today is The Day!
then I realize there's no one here, what can I say...

I cry, I scream, I rage,
sometimes I realize I'm expressing, but only in my head!

No matter how many times I climb,
I keep falling down.
I wish there was someone else,
that can keep holding me now.

Can't figure out what else can I do...
Still I'm dying to crawl out through!

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the ****** and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to ***** up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow—
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream:
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand—
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep
While I weep—while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?