Why is my mind so full of lies?
Till truth is the only thing I despise,
I live for the false, but live in the true,
It's boolean logic. It's long overdue.

The cycle of rebirth,
Concealed in a blood orange...
With a bite missing.

Certain obligations will remain,
with a backyard reborn in Eden.
I can only hope I can separate
good from ignorance.
Now, in my acceptance of defeat,
I have proven myself better alone,
and stronger,
but with an open heart,
and open mind.

Crime scenes made by people who bathe in sin,
Are the just the same as haunted ****** love.
Strips are ripped and teared from the victims skin,
Guilty fingers shrouded in leather gloves.
Mistresses use swords to steal men away,
Militants use words to cut off their head.
Books are painted in fifty shades of gray,
A masterpiece in fifty shades of red.
There is a reason love is called a fall.
Jumping from cliffs above to rocks below.
Juliet is dead from the lion's maul,
Romeo is rotting beneath the snow.
To love is to be stabbed in every eye,
Emotions make it kind to slowly die.

I am sickly, weak and broken,
From all the words I leave unspoken.
I am plagued, hurt and deranged,
From the curses I leave unchanged.
I am full of expectations,
I have fully crafted plans.
I have names for operations,
I won't achieve with my own hands.
I walk through worlds and I'm displeased,
But it isn't these lands that are diseased.

None of you know who I am.
I am hidden behind a screen,
I am trapped inside your feed
and I will be here long after I die.
None of you will know me...
Right?
You can't.
We've never met.
And yet...
You know too much

There is a snake there, waiting
venomously for an apple that makes its fangs fall out.
The first of sentient apes turn on immortal creators,
and are charged in the eye of Justice
for every extraordinary discovery in the ensuant history of
sin.

"Aren't your feet cold?" you asked,
as another silent tear ran down my cheek.
And they were cold, but that was hardly the point.
I held your face in my hands,
and felt a warmth that tugged at my heartstrings,
and I realized in that moment you would one day
break my heart.
The fog was thick around us;
it had been almost raining all day,
but the rain waited in the clouds. I smiled and kissed you,
wiping droplets from my cheeks,
and you said "I love you."
"I love you too. No matter what."
You looked at me, and understanding passed between our eyes.
The rain never came down that day, and my feet felt just fine,
because they were numb.

Home to every haunting dream,
Everything that makes you scream,
Your memories of an assault,
They call this place The Vault.
Holding secrets you don't know,
Letting out a darkened glow,
Guards on all sides shouting "Halt!"
They call this place The Vault.
Holding in what's scaring you,
Your insecurities like goo,
The source of every single fault,
They call this place The Vault.

I'm in a treadmill in my mind,
It's like a hamster in a cage.
Claw and scratch, but I'm confined,
Till I go off the pressure gauge.
So I let out a little steam,
From the cooker in my brain,
It's not like I can simply dream,
Because I'm becoming insane.
I'm in a treadmill in my mind,
Look closer and you will find,
That the treadmill is designed,
To be a never-ending grind.

The dry and broken sun beats down onto my eyes.
I have not had water for days, and it seems I have lost my taste for air.
Once, this place was an ocean.
Before man, or machine.
Before the chimps, and the lizards, and the fish.
There was only water,
The only sign of life on a lifeless planet.
When the earth was silence, the ocean was the source of sound,
The gentle purring of the planetary gears of life.
The waves, they are the only constant.
They were here before.
And I pray that they will be long after.

Often I wonder,
if I am dreaming
and this life,
so thoughtlessly given,
will soon be rubbed
from my eyes
as they open
to let in the light.

For the rainbows and the stars,
For guitars, cigars, and scars,
To all the things I'll ever see,
I devote this poem to thee.

One of these things is not like the other,
White, and white, and white and brown.
Who is this one? He can't be my brother.
He's different, let's all break him down.
One of these things is not like the other,
Straight, and straight, and straight and gay,
What a weird thought, she cant be a mother.
She's different, that there's easy prey.
One of these things is not like the other,
Happy, and happy, and happy and sad,
Everything strange to me, I must smother.
When they're just like me, they'll be glad.

How long is a moment?
A realization, a dream?
How long is a lifetime?
A laugh or a scream?
A boy becomes man,
A reading and dance.
A new tragedy,
And an acid trance.
Another man remains a boy,
Guarded mothers, spoiling men,
Preparing them for lives,
Dominated by them.
Lastly, a young girl,
With a fetus inside,
Will swallow a bottle,
Of pale suicide.

When God glows within,
there is no time to waste.
Run like the wind,
into your own embrace.
The energy of nature
directs into the soul.
Power unlike any other
plays its holy role.
Carry forth the mission,
Until the pain is fun,
and you will find
the stars align
to dance beneath the sun.

Genius is obsessive;
it pulls the self away and directs will into creation.
When I dissolve into the mission,
there is no time for heartbreak.
Only the cold truth of reality,
and the voice within screaming:
"Keep pushing forward."
Then, the voice grows wings,
and it lifts me from pain into pain,
and I smile. I am one with the world,
and suffering is my weapon of mass destruction,
ready to destroy every comfort
until I am born again in fire.

I am alone, I am alone,
I am the dead, surrounded by stone.
I am afraid, I am afraid,
I am the darkness concealing the blade.
I am the chemicals telling your brain,
Living correctly is for the insane.
And every time that you listen to me,
You are why I continue to reign.

Every single thing,
That considers itself wise,
Is fooled beyond words.

If I could turn over the clock,
And warp to my mistake,
Prevent the ripple's from the rock,
I dropped into the lake,
I would go back to a day,
That we met in time and space,
And send you far away,
Though I'd want to kiss your face.
I hurt the people close to me,
Because I'm made of slime.
To fix the past, I'll need a key,
To take me back through time.

"Be All You Can Be," says the television.
"1800-USA-ARMY."
I almost chose it, the life the TV tells me.
I almost went away,
To be a brother-in-arms.
Now, I'm thinking about being a brother-in-a-frat-house,
it hardly compares, but here I am searching
So I can be happy.
An 8 year plan for self-actualization.
Maslow would laugh; at the Army ad, at me, and at everyone who follows a path they didn't carve into rock with a spoon.

Round, frame-less glasses.
To you, I may appear an artist.
But they are merely glass.

Was it a mistake?
Or rather, what kind? Was it,
Carelessness or recklessness,
That brought you to hit send.
It's like every time I start to think everything is going to be okay,
You come back and knock that down.
In person, or in my texts, or in my memories, or thoughts or this ******* stupid website where we confess the ****** things in our souls.
If you want to talk, I will.
But if you have said all you have to say to me,
If you don't want to be the best friend I once had,
Then do me a favor, and lose my number.
Because I can't keep being knocked down.
I can't keep lying in bed and holding the stupid clown I was raised with close and cry while it stares back at me without any ******* eyes and then be expected to wake up in the morning and go to the school where every ******* hallway reminds me of one of the times I made you smile.
I can't keep being spied on by my former friends, by the security guards, by my brother and by that ******* staircase.
I can't keep living in this ****** world like nothing is wrong. Because it all is.
It's all just wrong, worng, wnorg, gnorw, ngrwo.

A number is a concept,
A song that students sing.
Numbers are illusions,
Quantifying everything.
Addition and subtraction,
Creating to destroy,
Multiplying and dividing
Rise of Caesar, fall of Troy.
Divine hands knit with pi,
Entropy comes ensuant.
Mathematics are a language,
And only God is fluent.

I sat on the bed, hunched.
If a gargoyle isn't being looked at, does it move?
Silent, hideous celebration of the dark.
All this is well and good.
But statues are made of stone.

The glassy waters are chillier today;
the contagion of reds, golds, and browns
has spread from within, and the ancient ones
experience the slow ecstasy of death.
Winds of a harvest moon slow on the forest murk,
and a tide below the surface will become
a tsunami against an invincible cliff.
Release thyself to the flow
of eternity in infinity
and you will be reborn
by yourself and for yourself,
one with reality in ten dimensions.

Walk along the sunlit street, and listen to the birds.
Listen to the angels and their softly spoken words.
Listen to the sound of wind across a grassy knoll,
But don't listen to the hole.
It's time to smell the roses, and the little daffodils,
It's time to smell the smell of your dad's burger on the grill.
Why don't you go outside and enjoy a pleasant stroll?
Just don't listen to the hole.
Because the closer that you get, to this hole inside the ground,
The more that you will hear the most horrific of all sound,
It's the sound of every evil thing that lives inside your soul,
So don't listen to the hole, please don't listen to the hole.

You don't want me to move on.
Your wish is my command I suppose,
Because I can't love anyone but you.
Not my family,
Not my friends,
Not them.
Not myself.
I suppose you could say my tether to other people,
The bands of attention that allow humans to interact,
Like people that is,
are broken.
My heart is broken.
My mind is broken.
We are broken.
And I am broken.

Green tea, red fire,
Glowing in the place.
Black screen, white tusk,
A poised trunk with grace.
Pupil-less and empty,
Stare into the soul.
Thick flesh-less life,
Ebony and coal.
Distinctly creepy in its eyes,
But beautiful without.
Distracting from its evil,
With the fountain of its spout.

The witch lay a curse on me,
with the last ragged shriek of breath.
Then, the flames took on an
altogether different smell,
and though she writhed against the fraying ropes,
there was no hope.
And as the goddess fried,
we held hands and sang
of a better time, in a better place.
I felt the moon shivering,
wracked with fear for when
the sun would shine.
When Venus would rise from the ashes,
a phoenix, and love would live again.

He told her he loved her,
he meant every word.
He swallowed the liquor,
To make love a blur.
His fists and his actions,
no longer his own.
Every interaction,
cut down to the bone.
She thought that she loved Matt,
but realized the facts.
He lived like a rat,
who carried an ax.
He hurt other people,
But damaged her most.
Beneath the church steeple,
Lays their lost love's ghost.
He left marks on her soul,
They were angry and red.
Now Matt's six feet under,
With a hole in his head.

Who knew that puzzle pieces could decay,
And leave a stench that never leaves your nose?
Who knew that crimson colors turn to gray?
Where there is scent of blood was scent of rose.
Were we too different or too far apart?
Where you once were is only broken bone.
I guess that's what you'd call a broken heart,
But blood's still pumping through my heart of stone.
I'm made of anger targeted at me,
The slightest move will likely aggravate.
I should be happy, hell, I'm finally free.
But I'm chained down by my own body weight.
I hate this dusk when once there was a dawn,
I want you badly, but the love is gone.

In mathematics,
A set of vectors are linearly independent if and only if their null space
is comprised exclusively
by the origin.
The only solution, is 0. Nothing.
There is no real way to describe them, other than, "because,"
And that's as good of anything I suppose.
Because to be linearly independent is a Godhood in of itself;
You cannot be defined in terms of the other vectors in your set,
Bystanders to your mathematically perfect
freedom.

If I were shot and left upon the road,
Would you whistle and simply walk away?
Or would you hope that I would be resewed,
By those who wish to mend before they pray?
A lightning bolt does fall upon the earth,
It aims for men who work in plots and schemes.
Their flaming hair become the bird’s rebirth,
They see the truth but only hear the screams.
Sentient beasts do walk from place to place,
Their hoots and growls keep children trapped in fear.
They turn to phones that teach them cyberspace,
Will get them girls if they will drink the beer.
Men will always live but more will die,
Until their bones do dot the deserts dry.

People like to talk about love,
But only when they say it made them feel.
I once thought that I could live for one,
When it was over I knew it wasn't real.
We wipe our keyboards with ******, melting hearts,
And put them on the web for all to see.
Nobody ever stops to think and realize,
"The only one I've ever loved is me".
I may very well be a psychopath,
But I think we know that love is drug abuse.
Love is just a label for a feeling,
That's meant to make us **** and reproduce.

I reel you in with honeyed words,
That only you can read.
I reel you in with hooks and spears,
I reel to make you bleed.
I speak to you in riddles,
Decode them with my smile.
I speak to you in poetry,
I speak to you in guile.
It's not you I'm deceiving,
I'm too busy with myself.
I write my book of ciphers,
It's there for you on the shelf.

One minute we're walking,
It's a beautifully sunny day.
I can feel her arms already.
Now we're in a cop car,
Bulletproof glass on all sides.
No way out.
This was supposed to be for murderers,
In those ****** crime shows I watch.
Now I'm off to court.
I ****** everything up.

Dr. Seuss used to live in my city,
Where the trees are triumphant truphaloos.
Acid rain falls to make you more witty,
and the world shakes with the weight of your dues.
"Still, laugh along with everyone," you'll say,
And the ground will tremble beneath thy hooves
So with that turn to see the palm trees sway,
and chuckle when the sky above you moves.
Yes, Seuss' friends don't wander in the streets
they're far too busy strolling in the woods.
The smells of all Balboa take their seats,
So now, make the exchange, and drop the goods.
I see the world now through a dead man's eyes,
so now upon the world a new sun dies.

Encumbered by the lunacies of men,
the seed of joy lays in a greater mind.
The breath will draw you closer to the den,
where every answer waits for one to find.
The self blows as the wind through all the sky,
Monsoons and sighs blown from a single Air.
The wanderings of lust begin to die,
New flowers grow from bones without a care.
The flow of water carves the ancient rock,
as cosmic wheels kaleidoscope through time.
A shepherd hunts a wolf to save a flock,
but canine birth remains its only crime.
Release thy worldly ties upon the skin,
Ascend the stony staircase deep within.

When the colors fall,
and the walls shake,
When the babies crawl,
and the old break.
As the light descends,
and darkness screams,
I close my eyes,
and the world dreams.

The moon breaks,
My head aches,
She pulls a gun,
To raise the stakes.
She holds me close,
She turns her nose,
She reaches out,
And time slows.
There is no fear,
Her lips are here,
I kiss her back,
and disappear.
She steps in,
For searing skin,
I cut her off,
it could have been.
But I know dumb and I know love,
I know her and the pain thereof,
We wanted each other for a moment there,
but I can't have another affair.

If ever there was,
It is now, tomorrow, then.
Oh god, when am I?

I often feel an irresistible urge
to shake my head, static
racing across neurons from
chemicals, long gone.
Then comes the gnashing,
grinding teeth, and the
horrible, intrusive thought,
that this will never go away.
But before the thought finishes forming,
the feeling is gone. And I look in the mirror,
and think to myself:
"What the **** have I done?"

Ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.
When answers are hidden,
what can you trust.
Wind to wind,
dusk to dawn.
There for a moment,
But suddenly gone.
Fire to fire,
Beginning and end.
Go through the cycle,
and never ascend.
Life to life,
it's always the same.
This world is unchanging,
Except for the name.

At the end of a relationship,
I think I'm reminded of something.
It's a simple truth really, hidden while we're together.
I hate myself.
And when we were together, I didn't, because you loved me, and you were a part of me, and at least some part of me loved me,
I thought.
Can love just die the way it did for you?
Are you even in pain?
I can't tell any more. I think you just want to leave me behind, because I remind you of the part of you,
That still loves me.
Despite the darkness, despite the pain, despite the sheer stupidity,
That part of you lives.
Maybe I'm just telling myself that,
You've had no trouble moving on.
I remember you were so upset with me once,
For not taking time to move on from you.
Look at you now.
There's no time like the present when you're running from the past.
I want to take a year, to talk.
To tell you, through words and actions, that I'm sorry.
I want to fix this massive hole in my shriveled heart,
The one that you put there.
I want to fix us, this incredible beautiful thing we had.
I want to move on, but the demons of my past are putting walls in front of me.
I break down whenever I think about it for too long, not just about you.
I break down when I remember how my father used to hit me for crying, and then hit me more for crying more.
It was a cycle.
I remember when I thought I couldn't love, so I lied to myself until I could.
I remember cold hands in the dark.
I remember the knife, and the blood.
I remember the numbness of staring into the cosmos, and feeling nothing but terror at the smallness of it all.
I got good at burying it, all of it.
Very, very, very good.
I built a dam to hold my emotions in, with the military discipline Aba taught me.
I learned how to drain them into the ocean, just before it overflowed.
Now...
Now it's overflowing with nothing at all.
Because you keep walking to the gates,
And knocking them down,
Until the things I forgot I could feel are raw and exposed in the light.
You don't want me to die, but I don't think you love me.
Love is patient.
Love is kind.
Love is patient.
Love is kind.
Love is patient.
Love is kind.
But you abandoned me,
Right in the nick of time.
I meant it when I said "I love you", despite what the dam was hiding.
But you didn't. You couldn't.
You never needed to build a dam,
To keep the feelings from flow,
Because you know what it's like,
To feel, and let go.
I was taught, day and night,
To hold and to hide,
To never let out all the pain that's inside.
I learned how to numb,
That won't go away.
I can't learn to feel,
When I feel more each day.
I want to believe they mean nothing to you,
but you're wrong if you think that I didn't love you.

I am the eyes above the city.
I can see the businessmen and budding actors, scampering like rats through a forgotten maze, and hear the clacking of their shoes on the concrete.
I am the eyes above suburbia.
I can see the soccer moms and teenagers, drinking when no-one is watching because the stresses of their tiny worlds are too much.
I am the eyes above the countryside.
I can see the creatures of these places wander across a barren world, and I can smell the moonshine they come across at night.
I am the eyes above the world.
I can see the grand illusion, pulled across the mighty sphere of the Earth, and I feel nothing but joy as I abandon this place for another.

Good never came down to say he exists,
He expects me to find him in miles of mists.
                                              Evil has never whispered in my ear,
                                              If he did, it was always too quiet to hear.
    Both speak in silence, even if you pray,
                                              But the silence expects you to live to obey.
                    What you call a tragedy, I call a song.
                    Nobody told me what's right and what's wrong.

I bleed through my fingertips.
I am a poet:
I stay awake, by no choice of mine, and I bleed onto the keyboard and into the world.
A tribute, if you will, to the wars within.
I am a musician:
I sneak into the woods, so my family cannot here, and I bleed on the strings of my black, battered guitar, and the music is heard by no-one.
I am a scientist:
I stay at the school, late into the night, to type one last line of code, or ***** in one last bolt. The whir of the motors is a release. Here, control is more than an illusion.
I am a person:
And I am full of so much blood.
Sometimes, it wells up in my heart until it is ripe to burst,
And sometimes it is as empty as poetry, or music, or beauty.

The world is burning,
Black snowflakes twirl through the air.
This is more magical than any childhood flurry,
This is destruction, beautiful and complete.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
I can hear them sinking into pits of tar.
"Please, please, please" they cry.
Only I can hear them.
I will do nothing.

The lonely spider,
inhabits the still places
until they are gone.