Take one step, and dance with me
the solid square or circular *****, we flew into,
a twisted and twirled beautiful night of romance.
I hand you a twisted red velvet pedaled pool of symbolism
you take my rose and return to me my criticism.
And cynicism. My mission: critical.

to every thought you whispered, and secretly hoped I'd hear.
To all the fear, and folds of insecurity to which you adhere.
To the ripping of the soul, when you get attached again, and pull away like a bandaid
to the sadder days on Saturday I feared I'd never endure; and never quite did.
to the she who so violently wraps me to her will, whenever she feels the need to want me again, but not really.
To the taste of sour beer, I forced myself to drink until her name drifted away.
to the goodbye stamped day when she packaged and shipped herself as far as she could get from me.

I say farewell.
I will not let what my heart wants be the leash by which she binds me.
I will not let her tie and untie me, use me and toss me aside.
I will learn to be outside myself, and outside my insignificant struggle.
I will live amongst the world and dwell in love of mud covered creatures too ***** for you to play with.
I will learn to stop saying I, because it is the least imporant word in my vocabulary.
I will be presented with the apple of the world, and wont feel guilty for taking a taste;
I hold it not a sin, due to my blatant loss of faith.
I will stop using future tense, because things only happen in the present.
And i will pray, metaphorically, that the last present she gives to me is her absence.

Therefore, my mission is to say farewell, to her and all she brings.
she attacked me with her smile, and that was the day she ruined me.

farewell to my misguided little dream,
I'll see you in hell, and oh yeah,
happy 19th birthday to me.

2 cups of insecurity
4 ounces of comparison
1 cup of dinner not eaten.
5 cups of a mind in shackles
6 tablespoons of incomprehension
2 ounces of oblivious peers
3 cups of dinner not eaten.
3 teaspoons of phantom numbers
2 cups of anxiety
4 cups of mirrors smashed to bits
1 pint of self-hatred
4 cups of dinner not eaten.
1 tablespoon of depression
6 ounces of anger
2 pints of hopelessness
3 cups of self-inflicted scars
4 teaspoons of ribs in the mirror
5 cups of fainting on the stairs
1 gallon of dinner not eaten.
6 cups of grieving families
4 tablespoons of words unspoken
3 teaspoons of tears unshed.
2 cups of dusty belongings
4 gallons of friends never made
3 teaspoons of kisses never stolen
a lifetime of words left unsaid.

Melt insecurity and comparison and mix thoroughly with dinner not eaten. Mix a mind in shackles, incomprehension, and oblivious peers and add three more cups of dinner not eaten. Crush phantom numbers and anxiety and sprinkle over batter. Take each piece of mirrors smashed to bits and poke them carefully through self-hatred. Mix with four more cups of dinner not eaten. Melt depression, anger, and hopelessness and spread them thoroughly throughout the batter. Meticulously place self-inflicted scars visibly on top of the mixture. Cover with ribs in the mirror and fainting on the stairs. Mix with one gallon of dinner not eaten. Haphazardly toss in grieving families, words unspoken, and tears unshed. Mix with dusty belongings, friends never made, and kisses never stolen. Gather a lifetime of words left unsaid in a separate container. Take it outside and bury it. Do not mark the grave site.

A man screams in his sleep.
Her features all aligned into a perfect order
Just because I'm hungry doesn't mean I have to eat.
A low hum
Burring  into my mind
Drives me into vicious fits of obsession
She stirs me

I look at her but cannot see her.
I try so hard to drink her in.
Every feature I want to drown in.
The vision is only a drop to a dying thirst

I stare so uncomfortably at her soft skin.
Guilty I lust for her.
She exemplified feminine strength

She stings me with her beauty
And Instills in me a sadness I can't understand

Consciously torn between being a dog and a man.
Stuffed my shame into my belly and moved on.

Long, long ago,

Around that time when the sun hung high,

I would have gladly taken your hand

And led you to the place where there are no worries.

Led you to that place

Where dandelions are not weeds

And all could be free.

Long, long ago,

Around that time when the sun hung low,

I would have gladly tread the road

Where between the wealthy and the rulers,

Only the strangers go.

Where we would fill the dimmed streets with laughter,

And share our woes.

And not so long ago,

When the moon pressed out

From behind the midnight clouds,

A landslide of firearms swept you up

And carried you away from familiar homes.

And now you’ve got your guns,

And I’ve got my silence.

Kids these days-
We smoke our dreams
So out of touch when it comes to reality,
Set up by machines
And cheap manufactured mortality
Tightened at the seams
To choke out thought and what it means,
Shut up, **** up.
Just sit back and hit that green.