The pitter patter of birds feet in the
fallen leaves and trees sounds like
the rhythm of a rain falling at ease.
I used to beg for a drizzle just for some peace,
but now I come and go as I please
into this forest of what I used to call my dream.

I think I'm going to give into my
delusions this year.
It hurts far too much to sit in reality
so
I'll wrap myself in the comfort of your state,
replay our few momentums,
and read your handwriting until I fall asleep.
Then I dream of you walking away,
always walking away. It was always me
and now I feel that heartbreak.

Just a kiss before the truth,
please make it sweet.
Im professing my love from the roof,
I'm yelling over the trees.
Please just tell me you see me.

I feel so wrong for praying for someones woman.
I stay for the chance. Have it be wrong!
The reason I stay will have to be enough
cause today wont be the day that I lay to rest.
Until my lungs can breathe no more,
I am in love with the moon.
With all the rocket fuel and titanium plates,
I will aim for you if it's the last thing I do.

I want to call you.
or text you.
Im buying a house and I want to know
what you think.
I want you to like it in case
you ever come home.
It's going to have a yard.
and a garden.
A library.
and a night sky suitable for you.

You’re not a star.
You’re a moon
and
you’re caught in my orbit
with no stars in sight.

Slick hands and locked lips let my love slip into the sea away from me and into her lovers beam.
Desperately wading through waters in
depths you cannot see.
She lived with no other thought than to love
and be loved by me. My Bella Noche.

We loved with a love that was more than a love
The kind that cracks spines of novels,
folds the pages with annotations
over our favorite parts
But our love was not as long.
And if as long, a tragedy.
The Shakespearean kind.
Although dark, beautiful. Bella Noche.

Neither the angels in Heaven above nor the demons down under the sea can ever dissever my soul from the soul of the
Bella Noche, my dream.
Passion lit with the brightest flame,
smoldering over all these wasted years.
I look to the stars and there you are
My Bella Noche, my dear.

The moon never beams without
bringing me dreams.
Always fleeting, forever gleaming,
smile beaming through her voice,
every picture I record,
You live there forever more,
my Bella Noche, my Lenore.

I'm smoking too much, not feeling enough.
Tossing back pills, still giving a ****.
They say so strong so tough,
while i'm praying to the sky above and
using this faith as a crutch.
I'm dripping in blood and
theres no one to trust.
Shoved them all out and turned to dust.
From ashes I continue to rise.
So I wish on bright lines
that i'll fall for the last time.

It's been 10 days since you walked this place.
I tell you the colors are a lot less vibrant now.
I tell you the burnt rubber sent clouds to
the exosphere just to reach you.
I tell you that we are all still waiting to wake up
and I tell you that I love you forevermore.
I can feel your arms around me in my weakest moments... like when the rain fell and
didn't wash this away.
Ever since your lungs took your last breath,
i've been desperately trying to breathe
life into your name.
We are beating on our chest just to
keep our hearts beating.
My eyes have been swollen shut yet I still knew the sun continued to rise and fall.
That hurts most of all.

I love myself.
I do.
I don't talk much. Too scared to blink.
Too much anticipation to know what you think
and if its about me.
Theres an art in not knowing. A method of sorts.
Theres an interest in strangers who could
easily tear us apart.
Right now i'm uncertain.
See, you ooze divine. A beauty to a borderline but I have been led by shine twice before
directly into a nose dive.
I lived to tell the tale but I promise you
i'm much more careful.
Your shine is more than a shine though.
It's a glow
and I really want to know you.
Whats a being like you wanting anything
to do with me?
I know all that I could be but
there's no way that way you see.
I am more than my words, I can give you
the world if only you'd let me.
The anxiety is sitting in my stomach as each hour passes that i'm waiting for your response
and I realize I'm long gone.

Ive fallen in likeness and your likeness is me.

I am a battery.
A public port of sorts.
Travelers plug themselves up to charge for their adventure and just as quickly as they came,
they return to the streets
while my energy is left depleted.

Until next time traveler,
if I should stay complacent.
What would you do next time?
If I wasn't where I was previously seated?
There's a satisfaction in always uplifting those weary minds but theres no battery back
to refill mine.
Ive been on borrowed time and I see now that you're consistently wasting it.
It's time to unplug.

The muddy water courses through our veins.
Exhaust fumes fill the air with each exhale you let out and I grew to love that smell,
even more so now.
Tearing up the yard and making sparks through the night, the roar of an engine echoing through the daylight, always knowing where
you were going...
We walked and rode miles upon hours, swam in the muckiest of waters and
counted stars more nights than not.
The **** smoke floating through the car and the sunroof open with music louder than the thoughts we were always running from,
and boy, lord knows we were always
running from something.
If the police couldn't stop us, bullets couldn't hit us, not a fight we couldn't win,
who would ever tell us to live differently?
If there was ever a time I lived,
it was the hours I spent with you.
Sitting in silence, backing up even the most wrong choices but thats what brothers do.
Every move I take and breath I breathe will forever be in the name of you.
LLAJTHAKIDD

I'd move to the moon for you.
id turn blue for you.
You're more than just a muse for me.
It's prophecy. Believe it's meant to be.
Ive learned to accept what ive got
and how I got here.
I just want this to be clear,
I ache for you.
I break for you.
Id aid and abet for you.
I hold all we had and have.
I imagine so deeply that it feels
that you're actually here.
Sometimes thats enough.

I watch the water extend as far as I can see.
The air there is like a puff of albuterol;
I can finally breathe.
I watch myself from above and take in the view
only thing missing is you.
Every day is now a mission.
more so than before.
I think the only difference now is that im no longer "surviving"; I am prospering.
I found my voice.
I obtained the strength to make a choice and did
I hold onto a lot of things
but I have started to unpack.
I have been driftwood moved and swayed in the water taken with whichever current came first
gripping, reaching, screaming for that life line
and I pulled myself ashore.
I am new. I am blue. I am the light that guides me.
I am woman. I am fearless.
I am love and I am you.
I can see the tide shifting and know theres something coming but I will not be pulled.
I will not be used. I am the voice of the broken;  
we are the muse.

My delusions are the poetic illusion of destiny
and the art of never knowing for sure
until its manifested.
I will brave through the anxieties and
out of my comfort zone in an attempt to
free myself from the shackles that have held me
in place for 25 years.
My face has been illusive, painted smile or silence to mask the screams yet
i've made it.
The smile on me is real now and my eyes gleam with happiness and I have never felt more free.

Im the death of a poet.
The muse that puts ink down on paper and the absence of love that dried the pen.
Im forever in the footnotes, the dedications, and after thought of every written word.
I'll take you to the point of ecstasy and push you right off the edge. It's inevitable.

Tigers eyes under sapphire skies and
obsidian nights with howlite moon to guide.
We are divinely protected.

The smell of a campfire is stuck to the humid air.
I inhale smoke just as thick as the smell
and when I close my eyes,
you're sitting right there with me.
We're around a campfire with good company, smiling faces and dinner on the coals.
I can smell the roast.
If only I was cycling through memories instead of dreams i'd be a bit less bitter.
oh.. what we could've done with more time.
My eyes are closed and i'm sitting in front of the home I dreamed we would build
and its burning
and i'm going down with it.

My dreams are laced through Orions belt.
My anger in the spear gripped by his hand
and never leaving it.

My hopes spill from the dippers.
Whats left is stale and pooled into the pocket,
though I still visit, nights like these, just for a sip.

The bigger picture, Mrs Ursa Major takes
my heart and puts into form.
Feared but revered.
A large teddy bear.

My flaws are plaster on the face of the Moon.
My fears side? It's on the dark side
that no body will see soon.

Why so, Sirius?
Who controls when which constellation is faded?
Who knows how long that I've waited for just a glimpse of an elation, to blink
and have my star gone and left devastated?

The paranoia is enough to ****.
To live in fear and jump at every thrill,
even if its off a building to end this illness.
Brick by brick the walls of this foundation falls.
Once a home but now nothing but holes in the walls, just bones of a structure
and I convince myself they're still
good, the bones.
When I close my eyes and open them,
it's you, my reason.
The push for such a life and I, the reason for the fallen hopes and broken dreams.
I am the lost dream.
I am the remedy and the ruins.
I could build an empire and still manage to blow it to pieces and for what?
No such reason than control of an inevitable,
or so I keep thinking.
Is it really control if it's inevitable?
You cant control fate but when you try, you dig your own grave and... create a fate.
This circle i've fallen in is not one
I can get out of anymore.
Ive been crying for a life line when it was
I who cut all ties.
I reach for the stars still, every night, the same routine. Pondering thoughts and what reason there could be for such distruction when all I ever wanted was to live.
I never felt more alive than when I was with you Bella, even if the sickness in my stomach masked it and made you feel rejected.
You are the love of my lifetimes.
I will always leave the light on.
My pieces still jagged yet I still sand them to this day in hopes that the next time you touch me,
it wont hurt.  
I left for you and you never wanted me to make that choice for you.
All this work i've had to do,
all this tape, all this time.
I wanted to be what you deserved and all you wanted was me.. all that came with me.
All the darkness. All the pain.
and I couldn't let you stoop that low.
I think i've made something of these pieces, even if it's just to be a broke/n poet.
I want to be more than a good story.
I want to be more than a lesson,
more than karma, more.
I want to be more.
I want to be yours,
Yet you tell me each time, "nevermore."

I'll never forget how good she was with words.
How her tongue cut sharp and spit and
dripped with poetic justice.
I read her lines and watched her lips
while mine were blurred and she slipped my grip.

I cant stand our imperfection.
Shes a perfectly perfect person
perpetually portraying pain...
or maybe thats mine in the reflection of her eyes.
Our love was filled with nights up trying, lying awake, inevitably dying.
but who am I to fake cause all those nights I called fate were more like lessons we make and take and we thought otherwise but I bet most could relate.
We weren't a mistake, leaving each other was the only one we made.

What art my heart torn apart makes when it bleeds over the edges and onto the hands of people who just wanted to touch me.
Greedy fingers and hungry eyes.
I've been devoured visually by souls
who did not care that I bled blue;
they didn't care that I breathe for you.
Long nails raking down my skin, desperately trying to hold onto the truth
that I am an end goal,
but that they are not ready.
They do not Inform me that behind the conversations of a future,
that they would remain dreams,
Broken ones
and that forever is indeed a time
and it is not as long as I thought it would be.
So please, keep your hands off me.

Falling in like is walking on sea glass.
Its the beauty of the walk
but also the risk.
Tossing pieces ahead of us and seeing what fits while avoiding and not always missing the
sharp edges and ... bleeding.
Falling in like is showing up at their door naked and unannounced before your first date.
Falling in like is holding up every wall while they unknowingly play Jenga with them.
It's trying to pick up the pieces but also having the idea of just leaving them there...
but still picking them up.
Falling in like is a relapse
and i'm losing all my chips.

I put the ball point to my paper again.
Page tore when met with tear soaked blotches.
The work flows best when in distress.
I couldnt tell you what ive done all these years, but I know they were tortured and wasted.
I haven't heard my voice in days
but I finally picked up the pen.
Even if its the same variety of words telling the same story i've told before
I'll be back in my notes; it's inevitable.
Im seeing the pattern and it hurts but
its predictable and for some reason that feels better.
Even if no one was listening or reading, at least I said something.