I hope he makes you laugh
more than I was able to,
that his sense of humor
always clicks with you.

Does he know that spot on your neck
that's your favorite to be kissed?
When it's time to go,
does he make you feel missed?

Do his words make you melt,
the way you told me mine did?
Does he tell you you're his everything,
that you're what makes his world spin?

Do you make love like we did
or do you instead simply ****?
Does he tell you that you're beautiful,
that you're his greatest stroke of luck?

I hope he's everything
that I couldn't be.
I hope he has everything,
that you no longer see in me.

Blessed is the cook
Who maketh his own fortune,
carefully seasoned

Man's mind killed mankind,
The monkey knows the balance.
I do no evil

The revolving door spins swiftly, taking its passengers by surprise
With its transient metamorphosis. The foreign scenery is at first
exciting in its bold contrast, before boredom ages beauty and
Weathers it away until it's faded and ugly like the peeling paint
On an abandoned house.

Situations that caused tears, blood and agony become but foolish
Memories, as attention and perception shift to new situations
We gladly then sacrifice oursleves to.

I sit upon an impossible throne,
The world's most comfortable chair.
It's all I'll ever wish to own
Though I forget it's even there.

My chair is ergonomical,
Conforming right to me.
Whatever I find desirable
It suits every want and need.

I feed it everything I have
But it never is enough,
Everyday my fingers bleed
Stuffing it with fluff.

I only see in front of me,
My chair it does not turn.
And as far as I can see
My chair is the whole world.

My chair is all I'll ever know
I seldom choose to leave it.
It scarcely ever lets me go
It's all I can believe in.

I don't know what I'd do without it,
Perhaps get up and get a life.
But instead I'll sit and stagnate,
Dying in my own delight.

I remember the song in my head
When I first saw you,
The way you laughed
And how your eyes grew.

How I tried to read the tattoos
On your sandled feet,
the way I prayed for
Our eyes to meet.

The way I listened
To hear your name,
How I wished you'd look my way.

I remember wondering
How to approach you,
Perhaps by commenting on
Something you say or do.

I remember your voice,
And how it seemed to reach for me.
It sounded so simple,
Yet soft and intriguing.

With each second
My curiosity grew.
I don't know what it was,
But there was something about you.

I envy robots
Because they feel no pain.
No aching thoughts
to drive them insane.

No bad days to
Ruin their weeks,
No salty tears
To rust their cheeks.

Though we do have thing,
that I must say:
Love,
That will drive the pain away.

I look into your eyes
And the warmth of your love fills me,
The glowing heat of
Your angelic beauty.

I touch your skin
And am unable to breathe.
You've stolen the air from my lungs,
My heart stands still within me.

And when I kiss your perfect lips
Time stands still.
Warmth comes over me,
And at the same time, chills.

You take me to a place
Where only you and I exist,
A place of love and
Eternal bliss.

You know I'm terrible with goodbyes,
And I know you deserve one better than this.
But you know me,
Always better with words
than with actions.

It was my way with words
That made you put up with me,
Made you look far enough
Beyond my flaws that you saw someone
Worth the trouble,

Worth all of the heartache and
The frustration.
Someone I fail to see, myself.
Someone I fail to be.

You gave your heart to
Joseph the poet,
Only to have it broken by
Joe the *******.

The same lost cause that
You once saw hope in.
The same who continues to
Disappoint.

I only wish that my goodbye will
Be in such fashion,
So that I may never again disappoint
A love better than I deserve.

What is a family room, anyway?
Repetition, resulting from daily life.
Tedium bringing us together
Like household traditions;

Family prayers around a broken table,
Hollow conversations buzzing like Tv static,
White noise in the background.

The family room is purgatory.

Mundane talk of petty lives
During commercial breaks.
When interaction is obligatory,
What distinguishes us from the furniture?

Gathering dust as we sit
Merely existing together,
We are the portrait on the wall;
Artificial.

O America, wake up from your dream.
Your top of the hill
Perception.
I plead, awake.

Awaken from your false beliefs, your
Warped view of the world.
Believing it is yours to buy and
Consume, while others starve.

O America, I see your shadow,
Cast over your deprived. A desperate
Attempt to hide the desperate,
The lost and the depraved.

The waste of your creation,
Left to wallow in the filth of
Your existence. The broken
Pieces of your people. Invisible
to your people.

O America, I see your wretched youth.
Apathetic and sadistic, desensitized by
Your lifestyle.  Enslaved by your media
to buy any which way.

Your whorish children, your joke of a generation.
Raised like cattle in shameful schools, reared in
Broken homes. Self destructive and stupid.

O America, turn off your television prophets,
Preaching their gospel of guilt in exchange for
Credit card numbers. Bastardizing science
And teaching bigotry.

Protesting human rights and feeding fallacies,
Indoctrinating children with fearful remorse.
Extorting their sheep to build their steeples,
Making sin out of human nature.

O America, I pray,
Wake up from your nightmare.
Before you collapse upon yourself, before
You're swallowed by your unfeedable mouth.

Arise, before you die. Cut the strings that
Manipulate you like a puppet. Reject society,
The cultural cancer.
O state of damnation, awake.