I'm sorry I'm not the me you always wanted me to be,
I'm sorry I couldn't stop the earth from spinning-
Couldn't dry the sea,
So when I flee back to be the person I was when we were you and me,
I'll leave you to see the empty me and set me free.

I'm walking on grey, choppy seas,
Nobody sees the breeze of my anxieties,
Try to see me for me and you'll be seized,
We breed the need for a connected society!

Under our masks we're just self-loathing leaches,
We've run our race without learning the lesson it teaches,
We've polluted the oceans and littered our beaches,
Not even space is beyond our reaches!

What we need is an extinction event,
A decimation, except only one in ten,
Because nine left alive, humanity would thrive,
It's time we drive home the point that our time is spent!

To be stranded on this side of death,
To take your last breath and find you have another left,
I'll make the sacrifice, I won't be the one in ten,
If that's what it takes to make us whole again.

Your legacy is immortal,
You'll live forever in our hearts,
And once the grave calls out your name,
We will know that you played your parts,

Though it hurt, you suffered alone-
Doubt tried to break you down,
You almost quit, but you cried out,
And went another round,

So when we lost hope,
And went without a prayer,
You lifted us up,
And took our place out there,

So when you fall down,
Now it's our turn,
Just live on through us,
Your fire will burn.

At the toll of the bell,
After Heaven and Hell,
When our satellites fell,
Did we fare so well?

When the oceans have choked,
Fraught with plastic and smoke,
The halcyon barriers broke,
And the Old Ones awoke.

Now we are so few,
Scattered fro-and-to,
Like Babel anew,
What are left to do?

The sun has grown cold,
Withered stories untold,
Our hearts had been sold,
For failures and fool's gold.

So pray for calmer weather,
Now and forever,
But this life won't get better,
This is my final letter.

I took a handful of pills,
So I don't have to feel,
Chased 'em with straight Gin,
Where do I end or begin?

It's killing me or the memories,
They're lined up like enemies,
This Mary Jane by my side,
The only place I can hide,

I've been high for two weeks,
I haven't yet hit my peak-
And all the dealers are dry,
A ten strip of acid to fly,

She told me to leave her alone-
So I done sold my phone,
And now I'm doing these lines,
While my heart is doing time.

I painted these walls with my heart,
I shingled this roof,
And built a home for you,
Since we were just youths,

But it came to an end,
Abruptly, in violence,
So I'll strip all this paint off,
And repaint it in silence,

Now it's private property,
I ain't who I got to be,
Do what you will-
but you ain't stopping me,
I'll paint over these walls-
Even if it's dropping me,
These corners are sharper,
Too jagged, they popping me,


Cause I ain't backing down,
Know what I'm about,
Cause a home is where you can-
Tell people to get out!

The ship rocked-
Back and forth,
The village ablaze,
It would burn for days,

Bandits and yokai-
Stood in my path,
Katanas and claws,
No love, nor laws,

The shrine-
Kodama singing,
An otherworldly light,
Only for some's sight,

Fallen souls littered my path-
Their power aglow,
I'll leave it at the shrine,
What's theirs is now mine,

I'll board that ship-
Kusurigama in hand,
And inside the hold,
Release the demon's  soul.

Dodging aside-
The yokai furious,
I remain undefeated,
And claim my amrita.

Atop the tower
     Stands
          A mage
     With storm in hand

And inside their mind
     Hell
          Glass, sand
     An empty sky

A clap of thunder
     Blinding
          Hot light
     With no remorse

Blood,
And shadows enough for two,
Lust,
For someone far from you,
Hate,
Sharper than a Blade,
Patience,
And a part in the play.

I keep breathing,
And I don't know why,
Too late to live,
Too scared to die,

I've often thought,
Is there life after,
But first I'll be-
One more disaster.

I haven't wrote anything original in a while,
(They don't like your rhymes,
They don't like your style)

I can't write with a heart I don't possess,
(They cut open your chest,
You were too obsessed)

Penguins scour beaches,
To pick rocks for their partners,
Prepared to retire together,

If I scour a beach,
To find a rock,
It'll be to beat a *****'s beak in.

See, on the weekend,
My relationship came to a meek end,
I was weak, she was on a bend,

So I bent knee,
Beaten like the beaches,
That penguins seek rocks on,
For their partners.

And maybe it's a reach,
We each leech these ends,
We seek to eat our friends,

But if she wants eaten,
By another guy with a weak pen,
I'm heading to the beach for the weekend.

I've walked on beaches beyond reach,
Preached gospels bleached of mortal speech,
Eked out life; a leach, yet lived beyond impeach,
A million years each, but I beseech:

"You are tall upon these palace walls"?
Ha! With just a thousand calls, the balance falls,
You stall, but the audience is not enthralled,
You'll be mauled as Saul when they sought out Paul,

They can trade your riches for rags in this ragtime,
Sublime, subdued piano and rhyme,
Every dime a crime, every lie dines on lime,
Feelings soured like mine as it's about to be realigned.

I don't think, as I reach up,
As I reach up, the stars shrink,
The stars shrink, and like glass cuts,
And like glass cuts, I don't think,

The stars fall, and like glass cuts,
And like glass cuts, the clouds stall,
The clouds stall, it won't end, but-
It wont end, but the stars fall,

We can't die, it won't end, but-
It won't end, but I can't cry,
I can't cry, 'cause in my gut,
'Cause in my gut, we can't die.

I don't think, 'cause in my gut,
'Cause in my gut, it's all drink,
It's all drink, I don't know what,
I don't know what, I don't think.

I won't tell me kids about Santa Claus,
And you might ask "Why?", because-
Like the Easter Bunny and Jack Frost,
You lied to your kids.

You meant well, I assure you,
And convinced them of wishes and miracles too,
And things falling out of the sky so blue,
But none of it is true.

Now, we all decieve ourselves a bit,
And believe in the ritualistic skits,
And pray, or wish, or write a list,
But logically, its all horse spit.

So when my kids look under the tree,
For their generic winter holiday gifts,
They'll see it came from dear old dad,
And at that, their spirits can lift.

"But why," you ask, "won't you tell them about Santa?"-
As you look at me like i've grown an antler,
And I'll take a breath, and let it out,
And try to contain what I ought to shout,

The poor and the needy are-
Abused by the greedy,
And the evil corporate overlords too.

They can't afford fancy presents,
They're living like peasants,
Its a state of modern serfdom, yet to you-

You buy phones and new games,
For your kids, with no shame,
And they think nothing of Santa when-

The poor kids might get socks,
And go outside to kick rocks,
And wonder why Santa hates them.

I was young-
     When it happened.

Snow was drifting down from steel skies,
     Tumbling in slow-motion,
   My fingers were numb, my gloves thin.

The neighborhood children all gathered,
     Clad in winter coats, scarfs and mittens.

Across the street from my father's house-
     The neighbors had a tall hill,
   And we would ride our sleds until the sun went down.

I wanted hot cocoa,
     My brother wanted to race.

He told me to stop whining,
     I was the younger brother,
   And he was always right.

Then the snow stopped falling,
     And we knew- I knew something was going to...

I couldn't feel the cold,
     Everything was light, weightless,
   And my feet
      Left...
         The...
            Ground.

I fell,
Faster,
Faster!
And I knew I'd fall back to Earth,
The hill, my friends, my brother grew smaller.

Then, I saw myself-
     Tumbling back down.

I awoke with a start,
     Today we'd be going sledding.
   My brother would want to race.

We're still friends,
     Well, not really,
But we talk,
     Well, not exactly,

I text "Hi",
And you ask how I am,
But you don't care,
So I lie,

Or maybe,
     Maybe you do care,
But I can't see-
     Why anyone would,

So I say "Hi",
And lie,
And we don't talk,
When we talk.

If you look out your window-
Don't dare look up to my sky,
Cinders choked the sun to death,
It's a black and smokey night,

Our last trees: you set ablaze,
And the grass, your kindling,
The birds and bees are dwindling,
We're left in this steel maze,

Are the streets and city lights-
Enough to guide you home?
When you choke on cinder, too-
The sun won't be alone,

And when your last fire dies away,
And the ice makes it's return,
And my sun can't shine from the afterlife,
It'll be too late to learn.

Drip.
The skies are sad today,
And trees have grown old,
Creaking as they wave,
With stories left untold.

Drop.
The sidewalk lays cracked,
On streets left to themselves,
With tiny apartments stacked,
Like boxes on frozen shelves.

Drip. Drop.
Are the clouds crying-
From joy or loss?
Is it light, like angels flying...
Or lamenting over the cost?

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.
The sun hides his face,
From our empty, lonesome town,
And the dreary, forgotten pace-
Keeps dragging us back down.

There's a pit-
      In my soul,
We'll find what might fit,
     Well, that's the goal,
A pound of Grade-A marijuana?
A lil' *****, yes I wanna',
A couple pills for the thrills,
Needles sure give me chills,
I'll try anything for the thrill!
...
But there's still a pit.

Plus, there's a hole-
     In my heart,
What'll make it full?
     Here's the art:
Driving sixty-nine in a thirty-five,
Punching the first person acting snide,
I'll eat my words till I burst,
Drink poison friendships; I feel worse,
And forget this vile, no good, gods-****** curse!
...
But there's still a hole.

And there's an ache,
     In my dome,
Keeping me awake,
     Yet I can't seem to leave it alone,
There's something busted in my head,
I bet I could fix it with some lead,
Or a sharp-as-sin knife,
Oh how Hell hath such tiring strife,
Oh don't, don't, don't, don't tell my wife!
...
But there's still an ache.

If I killed myself today,
I'd have said what I have to say,

Life is pointless and you know,
In the end, we all have to go.

I dismiss the attention nobody pays,
To the way I stay in games for days,
They say "You're wasting your time away",
But I'll play till I hit the grave,

Cause,

One more level, another point, another match,
Double ****, triple ****, don't crash,
Every day, getting better, no sweat,
Zero deaths, forty kills, no regret,

Top tier, s rank, winning streak,
Don't lose, don't die, not weak,
Can't miss, gotta win, don't quit,
Flanking, execution, legit,

We've got Contacts, reload,
Spawn traps, implode,
Bringing heavy artillery,
This is the Gamer's Creed.

My father:
He died when I was in fourth grade,
And all I remember is his tattoo;
Actually, just the fact that he had one.

And the pie he baked-
He forgot the sugar, so the pumpkin was bitter.

And the treehouse he built,
How we would camp there, cramped and cold.

And the roast he cooked,
He used black pepper like a vegetable.

He wasn't perfect, but he was my father,
And his memory weighs on me like ink,
But I can't remember what his ink was-
Just that he had some.

Me and my Titan,
We fightin' like lightning,
With a crashing of thunder-
This **** gets exciting,
Not a second to slow down,
Hesitation is a killer,
My Titan is falling,
Look up at the pillar-

Of smoke, trailing down from the sky,
My Titan might land on your heads,
My Titan wants you to die,
My Titan needs to be fed,

And I am his pilot,
Flying the fastest,
Surf on my ***, *****,
Across that map quick,
Swift with the S.M.G.,
Or bring the E.P.G.,
You'll need an E.K.G.,
Dead? Read your eulogy,

"He started a fight that he couldn't win",
And that's the truth no need for the spin,
So cry to your gods, this fight is simplistic,
My Titans are here to take back Mount Olympus.

Oh child,
The void knows you by name,
And it calls to you,
The end won't hurt at all,

Oh child,
We all sleep alone after all,
Nothing and no-one,
Will trouble you dear,

Oh child,
Don't pray for your mother,
Or father or brother,
It'll be dust in the wind.

Oh child,
It'll be okay,
Another will great the day,
And take your place in the play.

Hollow, floating just on the surface,
Follow the motes of dawn 'till they drown.
Plastic and pleasant: all that the earth is,
Spastic and present: rising, rising to fall back down.