The miracle man
Made out of sand
Every grain-a wish to be true

A problem on the rise
The devil in disguise
Always been a single answer

"Honey don't stress
Quit your worries, ditch your plan
Just sit and wait
For the Miracle Man"

Watch your tongue
Just fade away
You're nothing
When the Miracle Man comes
To save the day

The sins you wove
Secrets you told
By night all is done
New problems begun
The children's cries
Your tortured lies
All is nothing, with the Miracle Man

Keep up your crimes
In these pitiful times
When every misdeed
Is always undone
Hand in hand, we'll all stand
Rise and praise, the Miracle Man
Made out of sand
All your wrongs, are made to none

So, come on honey
What holds you back?
From endless joys
Your personal attacks
Every crime you create
Turned to another shiny toy
No more misfortune
Consequence can wait
And the only price
Is one miserable tole

Disfigure your life
To fit our needs
And when all is said and done
We'll watch as you bleed
Happy and open
No pressure in sight
There's no darker times
No need for the light
We'll welcome you in
With open arms  
The puppet to our plan
Is all you can be
Another figure
To fit society

So come on, now
Isn't it fun?
You're life torn away
Dependent on no one
Your meaningful entity
Turned to a worthless grain of sand
Well, there's no turning back now
For you're at the courtesy
Of the Miracle Man

The puppet said to the sun,
“Never shine upon me.”
And then it said to the clouds,
“Do not hide me from the light.”
And then it gnashed its teeth at the sky, saying,
“I never asked to be seen
I never asked to be hidden
I only asked to be free.”

Hatred with violence
And the fear within.
Freedom from distress,
Tranquility lingering.

Only fairness,
A state of harmony.
Presence of justice -
A true symphony.

Peace is not a treaty.
It's the truth.

i saw a girl who was hurting
he saw a girl who was crazy

you only ever call --
when she doesn't answer
to your pleas.
i pick up anyway,
just to hear
a voice --
one that won't
choose me.

A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
I wanted to say,
lock yourself in a room,
scream until you have
a poem and no voice.
Open your veins and bleed
until you know that your bones
are pure words and sorrow.
Act as if you slit your own throat
and all you can bleed
are your own regrets
and all of the darkness
you boxed up for inspiration.
Write your mom a letter,
tell her you're leaving
and you won't be back for awhile
Because being a writer is traveling
through all seven layers of Hell
and denying anything is wrong.
Forget loving yourself
when all you have is a pen and paper
fused to your wrist
and Jesus is tapping at your skull
saying turn back now.
Warn the neighbors that if they smell burning
It's just your soul
clawing at the front door trying to get in.
Learn how to be alone.
Learn how to lose everything you have
in order to feel release,
learn how to only feel deceased
from now on.
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
All I said was
don't