I'm upset that I need you- I want you so badly
I would burn my fingertips in the ashes of your cigarettes if it meant that you would kiss me all over with those tainted lips of yours again
I would kneel before you and be at your command if it meant that you would hold my hand and guide me again
I would scar my wrists with the pointless slurs that you've wasted on me in the past if it meant that we could go back to the way we were before she came into your life

but that's impossible
hoping and dreaming for things to get better is pointless- I would have to do something about it but there's nothing I can do, I know that you won't come back to me no matter how much I beg and plead


because to you I'm just a waste of space

"You're going to be okay" is just a lie that people tell you because they don't know what else they can do

As she decends with
Impulsive intensity,
she both illuminates and suppresses.
The saturated colors
assuming a temporary transparency,
cling desperately to rebellious shadows
which darken and grow tenacious.
But all the fervency is muted by the magnitude of the moment,
And watching,
I and all things of human effort fade
and in the hush surrounding
the greatness of that hour,
every breath

The first time was tough,
quite experimental,
I sat & I wondered,
could I actually go through with it,
take them all by surprise,
spray them with crafted-word,
drive verses deep into their hearts
& wear my emotions on my sleeves,
then go back into hiding?
Could I lie unknown,
in the same universe as you,
with my thoughts still racing,
until the next outburst?

But the need and the need and the need,
this incessant craving to be read,
to scribe more and more and more,
to get these sacred demons out,
to release my tormented soul,
to ******* my mind
into tiny bit and pieces,
to feel the rush,
of this euphoria,
I must!

O my unforgotten memories,
do you feel them,
do you feel me,
my eyes are rolling back in my head,
thinking of this crazy love.

On and on and on they go,
my mirror images of you
& one is never enough.

Staring through the cracks in this glass
           I ask myself why?
Why did I put myself
           through this pain?
Why do I act weak, when I know I'm strong?
             All along I've been hiding my face,
      Behind glasses and shadows,
But the cracks are getting wider
                 and the sun's going down
          The truth about who I am,
It's about to be found....  
       I can't commit to these crimes any more
All the lies and deceptions I was okay with before...
I'm putting myself out there,  
        Even if I fall face first
To the floor...
I'm gonna punch through this glass
           with my reflection so perfectly shattered
I'm no longer battered and bitter
       I'm gonna stare straight through that mirror
        Take off these glasses and look into my own eyes
I'm done with the disguise,  the lies,
         the shouts and screams
MY DREAMS!
          My dreams are what matter now,  
          Not yours, or theres, or hers
I'm finally putting myself first
        No more glasses or shadows to hide behind
          I'm gonna find me,  
And I'm actually gonna look at myself this time...

if there were clocks that would send me back
before the time when the neighborhood
was full of toddlers and dying men
when the rain puddles still fell lightly
beneath my still-small galoshes,
i would use them and bring you with me
we'd look at each other with hazel eyes
dripping with the stars and the memories
of our distant futures, far from our miniature grasp,
and talk about flowers and their place in our hearts
and crawl through the mud without our raincoats
to find the worms in the dirt, to build them a
kingdom of sticks and dust
with a moat running through it and we would rule
despite our ever-changing bodies
and our once separate lives

i'd make sure to place you in the empty house
right next to mine
and we'd start again
as brothers

You Write,you write
You write,you write till the words become a poem.
Long verse or short stories
You write,you write.
Maybe a song or a love letter to those that read.
You write you write it must be a joy.
To see the words you wrote in a contest to be judged.
You win a few you lose a few.
But you write you write till the ink runs out.