He creates alternative facts
for no good reason
just to be an ***
what the hell for
don't ask me
he thinks someone is listening
to everything he has to say
all the lies he tells
taking pictures of himself
through the microwave
lying through his teeth
about his taxes
throwing mirrors at stones
shattering the truth
roaming his labyrinth
fiddling with his ******
while Rome burns
with little hands all a twitter
making up political speeches
while sitting on the *******
and spitting on the floor
writing surrealist poetry
on the walls and calling
them executive orders.

From my three-story apartment window I hear the 2am bar fights,
The sirens of the city race by...
I hear the breaking glass from another wandering soul
and the couples that hate each other then make love in the dark alley below me...
I feel the breeze blended with artists dreams pass by,
I lay in this Cal. king drowning in pillows,
Staring at these 1930 off-white walls that have been molested by so many forgotten visitors,
I lay here and I know why I lay alone...

I'm so consumed by the life outside my window that I do not notice when a life walks out my door.

A world with people having the same personality and style,
Where everybody is a copy of the other,
We all have the same smile,
And just want to compete with each other..

Competition can be motivational,
But sometimes a killer.
Competing with yourself is ideal because there is no other you,theres just you so the only one you can make better is your self by ensuring you are better than you were yesterday.

Be an individual,
You are like a colour in a piece of art..
Without you its incomplete.
Imagine the world as a piece of art,
Everyone offering a different kind of beauty,
Don't change yourself for anyone,you are you and you deserve to live as you!

With free will we make our own choices which we think are right,
Well not always..
Ancient day arranged marriages worked better than todays free will marriages,ironic. Right?
The people looked down upon actually excel,
And those that try to make others feel inferior are the ones actually inferior.

I have a son
not too far south
of me, close enough
to jump in my car
and go speak of my love

but I won't put a bit
in his mouth or saddle
him with my troubles

We could cut our palms
open with sharp knives
and be blood brothers
the rest of our lives

and I could find another
woman in the mountains
instead of staying here
with his mother he loves
while he swims his own
sea of life without me

instead I drive long drives
and count the keys
on the black piano
of the highways at night
passing beautiful women
who wave and smile back

but I'm only dreaming
keeping night watch
over my bed,  I dream
about old songs that sing
back to me like one
by Townes Van Zandt
about going down to see
a woman named Kathleen.

We try to find the ways
this could make us better,
in the dark we stumble,
searching for a ladder.
Care is an adhesive,
attached to our hearts,
and when roots are honest,
a tree can never fall apart;
Soon, we will have a forest
to soothe our scars,
until then, we will find hope
in decaying stars,
and a night will fade
from black to grey,
random glimpses of light
will remind us of what is true;
we are sublime,
even when enveloped in blue.

It's been a hell of a year
All I remember is the cold
Sleeping on the floor
In your empty house

Walking your empty hallways
Talking to your empty walls
To your empty heart
Drunk on regrets

I wasn't enough to save you
I wasn't anything more
Than the girl
Who slept in your house
On the floor

Alone in your cold