Although I dont know her all to well
With a first impression flawed
Ive wrote this poem to show and tell
her happy birthday! I KNOW, this is odd-

Who writes a poem as a birthday gift?
So personal yet incomplete-
Its because im here so spirits lift
And to show remorse for my deceit

Im not really as rude as i was;
Not nearly as mean of a *****,
Still im unfiltered, simply because -
When around lucie hehe, sometimes I switch
So Shay,
im sorry
for unleashing my inner *****.

Happy 24th Birthday- from me, to you-
Im too poor to buy presents
So I hope this will do.
With words incandessence
Do you boo boo!

A, always absencent and afraid
D, in such distaste;
A, for anger- absoloute
& M, cuz mans a ****** Waste:

Is this a written name?
Of this friend or potential lover
How he Reels this unique pain,
Too bad he wont discover:
That I'm the one whos truth's attentive
Not the one with words incentive-
Take ownership, & be repentive
Your minds absolutely unretentive.

I don't believe that you have this gift
To heal and unlock a Better version
of whoever you think you are-
What you've been given, you must shift
Enjoying that fake xannax bar?

A lthough you hurt
D ont hurt me too
A lways iconsiderate-
M anipulated too.

✌️

To make it up: alone; we've learned,
the blindful wilds we procured- are no oasis, or mirrage.

..Yet it is us
who hold control.
the dawn of daybreak's, shinning still-
a yellow brick road runs up that hill.
Still, I create
Still fabricate
this work, I Still, appriciate;
for a moment, I consolidate- then slowly, still,
Comemerate.

for a moment- before the sun dips into the horizon (disappearing until dawn)

"...catch a glow that warms your spirit, play a song to soothe the pain and be still. If only to renue your faith for now. "

He would always wear my ring- giving me his full attention;
he would lay there- with me,
he listened to the music.
He listened to our songs.

And she carries my pouch, the one I made for her coins.
She carries my artwork- a piece of my mind, my imagination- one of which that even escapes my own memory-
I know she carried it,
Wherever she went.

And with a silent , namelless love, He uses my bookmark.
The one I made for him.
  I know, at every ending,
to every story-
It's there.  

A simple ring, a coin purse, a bookmark;
like the unity of a song we all listen to at once-
were pushed together, bound by memory,
and immortalized in such fleeting feelings.
  
Isn't It Strange? That within these three mundane objects
I take solice.

If you were the sun I'd bask in your light and if you were the stars, I'd see them tonight.  If you were the rain I'd be driffted to sleep, in the same room from the memories only we keep. I'd be engulfed in your sound, listening id forget,
The pain, my reality and every regret

And when the darkness comes
I'll remember this moment.
Where we held out our hearts
& filled them with faith-

hopeful,

To
    be
        free.

Beauty's rose wilts 
 and petal by petal,
shard by shard;
Faster than fantasy-
time relapses
~
Beauty's rose wilts-
it's soils all settle
Erosion by erosion,
slower than springtime;
the future arrives.
Beauty's rose,
But a wilt!
without trophy or medal,
condolences, by condolences,
at our own paces-
the past persists.



Black flowers, wilted with time,
without beginning, nor end-
are seen;
   &  through the stained glass gaze of love,
are shimmering.

Here I lye with you-
you don't listen, so my words
write reversed haikus

I don’t need your drugs,
but I do need you to know
no one deserves this.

I choose to let you
treat me like I’m blindfolded;
Still, I gift to you-

Graphite and color
a blank sketchbook (with this piece)
Inscribed in the front.

Art is all I know
so this opportunity.
to express it all-

Has such strong power,
you might never truly know…
Still- I hope you do.

Dear Dad,

We close our eyes, and we retreat
too a very special place-
Away from worry, away from doubt-
familiar teardrops trace.

So, when I see you, sleeping –
the phone right by your seat-
I cannot help but lay parallel, with you-
& forego frantic defeat.

I cannot help but lay with you
& Join your slumber deep,
Knowing that one day when you leave this earth-
that we can always meet in sleep.

Love, Eric

There's freedom to-
and freedom from,

Freedom to run, from everyone.

Free to do-
And freely undone,

Free to run


from anyone.

Couplets here, leak out of me
out of my very being,
unto the world in front of me
simultaneously seeing: that I'm made up of couplets,
no more & no less;
two lines of written words that arch balanced, they confess:

that first lines nothing without the second,
& alone the second lines meaningless at best

For it's in couplet's regularity, that confusion doth detest  
that there's always one then two, 2 reasons to write the rest.

It happens just because we need
To want and be Wanted too
Serendipitously here, spontaneously there,
A true friend I've found in you.

Now friends will come and some will last, but in the end so few;
Are in actuality Ride or Dies
Disappointingly it's proven true.

Lucie my friend, has forced my hand
To write my words of feeling
For untill now there'd been no reason
To attempt a written healing.

♡

I see you, in your miserable high

I wonder if last chances gone by

In protest you'll hear me screaming Why?

N hope the you thats loved wont die

Alone, we're caught in Meg's Constant's
sigh.


Thank You for Taking Me to The Disco
I'd Like to Go Home Now

✋

A girl named Lexie, is more than youd believe-
From kindness to beauty, to a witty retort.

This girl named Lexie; you behind she wont leave,
With honor and grace as her natural rapport.  

She tells me that in me, she believes
Which is more meaningful than she'll know-
This gift of her faith I try to recieve
As she writes her music for her show.

A girl named Lexie is more than you'll know,
A magical brain generating her glow.
Someone I am blessed to know-
And respect any time she gives me.

“I imagine a dreamscape
crafted in fluorescence, by your words
Where no razors fall like trinkets from the sky
But a blindfold of trust comforts the eyes.
May you, I pray, feel un-alone
Though we be strangers in our own homes,
I get it.”

a small group of individuals
bound by the intersectionality
of their detriments
meet;

and although alone we stand
in head and heart and hand
together the mind and the heart gave birth
to something each of us forgot were worth:

when we are together, a real person is born
not through the perceptivity of gore and of ****-
but of virtue and strength being visible not
to anyone other than us 3 who forgot.

Right now it might seem like a waste of time.
trust me.
to write down a scheme or emotion
some half dreamed-dreams, particles of truth amongst a mostly fabricated memory.
It isn't.
well when you trigger that human desire
for repition yet seamlessly profound plotting
of the ear
you may hear
all the music I'm writing about.

It's upon these cold stones
Which now, I choose to sit, and wait.

Alone at sunrise, fear, hatred and of course, this synthetic 'Art of Doubt'....become me.

The ridged steps- my only companionship
the true essence of cold.

as my fingers numb, and I can barley type this out
Honestly know
I wonder how long and painful
death by ice
really must be.

Beside me; a building filled with everything I could ever ask for want or even need.

Everything.

And yet , Upon these Cold stones
I sit, just a while longer
To remember what I still have. Not mourn what I've lost.

But mainly, to be a man who doesnt deserve anything inside that wonderful, overwhelming sentimental house. Be it people, possessions even the animals-on those cold steps of reality-he deserves where he rests.
They all deserve more than what I thought I could haven given them.
More than this.
I am so sorry Dad.
Im very sorry Mom.

Thank you, for these cold stones.  You will never understand the gratitude, which one day
I must leave behind,
of all the these priceless blessings.

But for now
It's upon these
Oh so cold, disgracelesss stones- you and me are too alike
melted with liquid burned and with fire, me and these cold stones
know true
desperation.

Sometimes I regret every single thing
And
In my pain- I pass on by

emotionless  oh but still it hurts

You tell the truth,

N I dodge your smoke,

As if sometime I could regret.


away and then I cry....

Won't you go away?

emotionless

Prove to me
That steadily
My hands will cease to shake

& try to show me
another way to see....

Promise me,
All I'm so unsure of

Promise me-
That even this will pass.

Through the window on the basement floor, the truth still speaks; a friend
Reminding me, compassionately
That love and their plans must end.
Now, To sever two souls
But set only one free-
Is by far a painless feat.
How can the severed truly believe
Their love wasn't bound by deceit?
We may lie and hurt, deceive n depart. Argue and destroy,
Ruin precious art;
Burn precious songs to be left in your heart-
We may scar and ignore, avoid and then face
but no magic or time; Not a thing can erase

The Music we share
as
the 'Music'

We Face.

Pray for Truth
n Prey on Lies,
what is a prayer if not worry's disguise?
and then what of said worry, now so clear in our eyes?

Pray that fate wont fail me now-
preying on doubts which always allow,
In worries disdain, the unwavering Tao,

to this critical prayer's
undone what-ifs and what-nows?

In Ashleigh's book, I now write
& provide her with this true insight:
We have yet to be friends- how we're connected despite,
all of the habits we-

Choose; Still,

to diminish the light.

In the washroom
my reflection
and I,
Challenge one another-

A coagulated sweat,
A Combat baby's brain,
A moon that doesn't set-
Ascending constant strain...
Oh Anxiety, Paranoia,
Obsession and Depression,
Still perhaps, a poem just might
set free this true confession:
Confusion and  Delusion
The mirror's blunt conclusion
Pristiq, and then Welbutirn,
Art's  inclusive-type solution.

another one's challenge;
my Reflection , and I
In the Washroom.

The toll of Angers tide -
Compels us on, and forward

Forward:
Satisfaction, it never comes!
Forward;
the only direction left to go,
Onward-
We stumble.
Forward-
We're pushed.

The toll of Angers tide -
Compels us on,
Pushing
Pushing us further, pushing us forward...

the tolling of angers tide-
the unrelenting force.

oil paint
your poetry
onto the caravan
of my lungs-
so that tonight, may I still see;
all the colors
of your thoughts.

Painting the pictures I wanted to be in ~

Our life's lines are implied as parallels,
For they trace in the same direction
To our collective personnel's
profound destination:

As our life's lines are redrawn,
again and once again,
Our destiny's knotted into one,
A Triquatra till the end.

Know our lines stay parallel-
Though Infinite,  they'll never meet
In their never joining spell
Their truths within decept.

Look like the flower but be the serpent beneath
Teach for the hour but speak only for minuets
Love for the passion but **** for the pride
Climb for the high, screaming never enough
Remember the happiness
And weep, when you feel its echo.

A unique love owns
Both me and my Father (and brother)
As it's special home's
Found within one another.
So be what you are. Dare and think and move free
But humor always
the lover
your dad raised you to be.

when I hold
my own hands
My imagination does ensue
they arent burning
in the cold
and are somehow holding you

And when, away it is you slip, my hands hold tightly still onto
the belief you now know and understand- to me,
What these evil drugs did do.

And in death, maybe you'll
Feel what these constant aches
construe

when I'm holding my own hands,  
it's to pretend that one's s from you
and to comfort my sore soul as
As  life were still all
Sufferings through.

Egan Lake, how I long for you
transcended isotropic view
In my departure somehow I knew

I would never be back;

here with you.

Sara I know you won't get this but Im writing it anyways- I think about you at the strangest times and I wish you could see the artist I've become and am going to be. You are permanently in my heart. I will make your mother a beautiful piece and I hope you can somehow see it. You are missed by such a random connection, me, just as strong as ever when it happens. I love you. Thank you for loving me too. Rest in peace, through the Mellin collie and the infinite sadness.