Eggs
Milk
Bread
Tears
Stress
Anxiety
Whiskey
Smoke
Forget.
It.
All.
Eggs
Milk
Bread
Fear
Tear­s
Stress
Isnt this fun?
Lets go shopping.

The sounds conflate around me-
Haunting my ear drums,
Taunting my senses.
The sounds conflate around me-
Intoxicating me soul,
Lifting me into the comfort of the night.
The smooth and heavy darkness-
The thin air and swiftness-
The sounds lift all into nothing.
The sounds are everything, yet nothing.
They put the soul to rest,
A night time lullaby to bring peace to even the most bureded soul.
It conflates heavily and intoxicates fully.
This, until the end has been met .
This serene darkness,it all rests within this eternal and forgiving atmosphere.

I remember the time when I would silently ascend your staircase and try too hard not to trip so of course I did. I would cautiously place my feet one in front of the other approaching your room only to find you asleep, hidden away in dreamland.
I remember the piano sang softly out from the speakers in your phone- lost somewhere with in your covers as well.
I remember I would stand there for a moment and see your peaceful face and even though you had told me to wake you, I always hesitated because I could hardly force you into the cruel reality of this world. I wish you could stay in the land that was blissful and bright, but not too bright. Your face was relaxed and your body curled up and wrapped within blankets and that is the picture I always see when I think of love in its simplest form. Not the love between a man and a woman, but between humans.
The warmth a heart has and the capacity it holds.
The comfort you may find in another warm soul, so inviting.
The love between two humans that is eternal and means nothing other than loyalty and sincerity.
That is love in its purest form.

Vibrant-
Illuminate
A slight chill in the air-
Jump into the sea below you say I wouldn't dare,
But the rocks below are just a detourant for those not willing to take a risk.
My fight has been humble though I have been humbled many a times,
And my battle has been pretty prolonged.
Here I am, Inclined to inform you of who I am today.

I am a San Diego sunrise
Pastel hues that paint the early morning skies
Each color,
Soft-
Or vibrant and bright,
Represents my personality on a spectrum:
Calm and reserved to outgoing and extroverted.
The exuberant sun reflecting off the ocean is passion.
This image is poetry in the making.
My passion is in fact poetry.
The ocean below is intensity-
The waves crashing upon the white California sand in a continuous, mellifluous soundtrack,
Just as I continuously strive to succeed in all I do.
Failure has never been an option for me.
The soundtrack of the waves is not only my love and desire for the ocean waves, but my need for music-
All music-
Any music.

The sun rising to the top of the sky demonstrates my sky is the limit attitude in Life and the fact that I have always had the tenacity to go after what I want whether it be finally playing college athletics after a career ending ankle reconstruction surgery, or maintaining my drive to go to law school.

Finally the sun setting at the end of the day and disappearing into darkness represents how even in dark times I know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak.
Darkness only lasts for so long and the sun will once again rise to display its beauty, candor and potential.
The sun is optimistic for each coming day and continues to rise even after it falls, as do I.

As a sailboat sets sail out of the harbor I feel the sun warming my soul and I know that I can continuously rise to any occasion to make it smooth sailing.

San Diego is in my heart and saltwater is in my veins-
It does not make sense for me to be anything other that a magnificent San Diego sun rise above the glistening pacific coast.

You throw it around like its feather light.
I can't count the times you used it on me-
1
2
3
4
5
….
oops I ran out of fingers,
and yet its still a joke to you.
Even after they DIED because of what you do.
Maybe its not just you,
but one
person leads to another
one
person makes a difference.
You do not have permission to use it like the RUG you wipe your feet on every time you walk in the door.
All of the dirt left to be BURDENED by its material.
Plot twist they are the rug-
every muddy shoe contaminating their fibers, being ingrained in their deepest threads.
Eventually it will be thrown out because it is no longer useful.
No longer purposeful.
You cannot just throw it around and expect no repercussions.
Plot twist-
Your mouth is a gun and it just fired bullets-
The bullets are the words you spit without thought, soaked in poison.
You are a toxic being,
and-
OOPS!
-theres goes another casualty.
Not your problem right?
You will always be the gun left loaded and off safety.

Heat-
The very contrast to my wintry,iced fingertips.
Warmth of the soul, of the heart,
But froze so long, the heart can only be thawed so much-
The flesh remains gelid, cold to the touch.
Associated with hostility and apathy, but the misconception continues.
A warmth within struggling to surface,
Never to be viewed or felt.
Only a desire,
Unable to be attained(obtained).
Gelid flesh-
Frigid, Frosty.
Melts, but freezes over.
A gelid fire unable to be only one.
Unable to thaw and prosper,
To spark
To burn
To warm the deep opaque darkness.
Sharp.Frozen.Bright.
No matter the warmth-
Iced fingertips chilled to the bone.

The crack came back- a shatter in the watch just in time for me to be broken as well.
Strange as it seems it may just signify myself, strangely it broke again when I feel closed in from all sides.
No where to go, no right move to make.
Something needed to be done.
Nothing seemed correct- nothing was painless it would hurt one way or another.
The bad guy ended up being me.
I ended up the end of all things..
I was the instigator, I made the maze and got lost in it.
The never ending labyrinth continued to lay out before me never showing me the easy path, never revealing the exit though that's what I wanted most.
I wanted out.
The pain the maze inflicted upon me was becoming unbearable.
Trepidation followed me through each turn like an unwanted shadow.
Fear of making the wrong turn.
But no one was correct.
Each brought on new trials that I hadn't wanted to face but I was forced.
The crack was a labyrinth of its own- the design had depth and length.
It's own twists and turns and you could almost see myself lost throughout the mix.

Insecurity:
You'd never believe me.
I fear much:
And that includes losing touch.
Insecurity-
What is wrong with me?
I can't bear this fear,
Of being left here-
To fend for myself-
To save myself-
To be myself,
But I've lost that-
Me.
I'm so lost that my map is lost.
Of course you're my map, so that would make sense that I would be lost when you leave me.

This is not to be swept under the rug of the ocean,
No not under the rug.
The vast depths of the sea hold the worlds deepest secrets-
The calm waters have a voracious appetite for your mind.
This is not to be swept under the rug of the ocean.
The sea is the greatest keeper of secrets-
Loyal, mindful and wise,
But the emotions should be had and not swept out to sea.
Not into the deepest depths of the ocean.
The ocean holds the world-
It washes the souls with peace.
And though the ocean can relieve the affects of the feeling,
It cannot vanquish the  sentiment eternally.
Therefore it mustn't be swept under the rug of the ocean.

She grabs my wrist and I pull away
She grabs my wrist and I pull away
She grabs my wrist and I pull away
I continuously run from being chained away.
My mind is full and about to explode
I'm not quite sure I can take the load
On my shoulders that I myself placed there.
I pace to and fro wondering why I do not care.
She grabs my wrist and I pull away
I continuously run from being chained away
If I were told how to move my lips
If I were told how to move my body
I could not live for I would be a chained puppet.
It is not life if you are not living.

Everything was still and then it wasn't.
Everything was silent and then It wasn't.
Nothing was and then everything was.
The trees trembled and the leaves shook.
The grass flailed and the creatures took cover.
The only remains were the brave souls enticed by the storm, captured.
They only stayed, only for their own rapture.
The unknown storm had a strange effect
Standing in the shadow of it was not terrifying, nor comforting but they found something in it that bound them, tied them into this building storm.
Souls bound to the unknown,
Souls invigorated now and vibrant.
Everything was deafening, then the silence returned.
Everything was shifting, shaking, and then it was still.
Nothing became everything, the souls trusted the unknown and changed nothing.
Nothing became everything.
It was all for the thrill.

And then-
It hits you.
Suddenly and overwhelmingly,
like you've opened the door to your house,
but suddenly it's no longer your home, but Pandora's box and there isn't hope left at the bottom this time.

Suddenly-
You're terrified again:
Fear hits you like the monsters under your bed when you were five, but this time it's not the dark you're afraid of, its the light.
You're terrified
Of Loss,
And love,
death-

And life.

You are suddenly a wanderlust with no sense if direction, who has lost his compass;
And you can't tell up from down,
which way is drowning,
And which is surviving with your head above water.

The pluviophile in you can only take so much before it begins to drown too, under the down pour.

Perspective changes when you don't have an umbrella.

Suddenly it all changes with that turn of a doorknob,
And for no apparent reason everything comes spiraling out at you,
pursuing you.

But finally when the last obstacle has hit you and knocked you to your knees,
Begging please
Over
And over
And over
And over:

There is hope,
You just have to take it out of the box yourself and find your home once again.

Tea and bubbles:
they may cure all your troubles.
If the world would listen to the silence,
Maybe we wouldn't experience such violence.
We hear all these words each day,
But they all conflate into one eventually, and just go away-
Almost as if they had never been said.
God, this is how people end up dead!
And I cannot enumerate,
All these beings surrounding,who cannot communicate;
Yet, they refuse to absorb the silence-
They give birth to and raise up these tyrants.
Tea and bubbles.
May very well solve all these troubles.

I feel like people don't take my poetry seriously because of my age.
I'm tired of it.
That is all, Thanks for hearing me out

You asked if I loved you so here is my answer:
You see I didn't buy you, but here you are. Some might say I won you at a game station at a county fair. Maybe I did, or maybe I won you in a birthday party ticket raffle. Either way I'm stuck here trying to keep this gold fish alive kind of like how I try to love things, but we both know it will die soon anyway.

Hearts beat
Breath quickens
The light it blinds, the dark, it thickens.
The pounding in the chest and skull.
Explosions threatening in mind, to tongue.
Pain to release pain,
Loss is the only thing we gain.
Say- im you're only one.
Pay- what I do when you depart again-
One final time.
Not with Benjamin's, penny's And dimes.
I payed for my crimes- deep Crimson blood and my fragile, darkened soul.
Gone they are from my body now, empty as it is.
It's a wonder how my heart still beats through my chest when you approach with your candor in tow.  
It's a wonder how my breath quickens when you kiss me so.
But the insistent pounding in my skull and chest shall continue;
This allergic reaction to feelings I should not be experiencing, due to my soulless-ness.
My unfixable mess, but you have elicited this.