I remember my first time writing on here
I was nervous, scared and a tad naive
This is my stomping ground
My battling
My push to give my everything
The constant vibrant words being heard
Now a poet grave yard, deserted
I miss my poetry home
The loud boisterous words constantly being thrown
I came back
It's my dysfunctional love, all I can say to that
I feel Sentimental, never wanting to leave
There should be no reminiscing about poetfreak
Although, we stand here grieving

Hold my hand
I still like the feel of cliche
Even though I know the secrecy of being married
Flawed, we still love the chaos
The tears of pregnancy, holding a combination of both me and you
The long nights wiping my tears in your drunken stumbles
I still loved you
I stopped seeing the cute in your impossible eyes
Persuasive, I slowly became the alcoholic
I switched the looking glass
Where do we go from here
No fancy words or metaphors
Is it time to sign the papers
You tell me
Keep it sincere

I let my cascading walls of insignificant thoughts hit my toes
My hands spread open, I exhale knowing I can't feel my nose
I could shot gun another glass of wine, facilitating concentration on my inspiration
The motion of it traveling down my spine to my dirt embedded fingers bent
I use every muscle and ingenuity, literally sweating
In hopes to get applause for my corrupted mind
Pumped up for abandonment
The words never seem to be situated exactly right

Tantalizing  this animosity
morale is out the door
Lying on the floor
Her boldness shows coldness
Her pain screams in vein
Loosing feeling
grieving is deceiving
as the burn coats her throat
Fake godliness is her IV
Breathing in her mental insanity
I have no faith in my humanity
I'm gone
You will search by dawn
Who is to finds the last trace of her embrace
Satan only grabbing her sin
Pulling her in

Criticism is validating
Your love is a choke hold
A marriage committed to my compromise
Generic mending
Each strand of bronzed chunk, represented a vow you gave me
The scissors cold and bare, cutting it away from my body
Swept into the nearest waste facility  
I was invested until the end
Dying with you was never scary
I now degrade, picking scraps off picture frame edgings
Look at us so happy
Lusted objectifying could qualify as the new I do
Well, we didn't make it to 80 not even 32
Congratulations to your selfish needs buddy
I hope you finally find you
Here take this ring, it doesn't fit me