They will tell you
All poetry has been written
There is nothing new
Under the moon
But let me tell you
They don’t know you
You are as unique
As the DNA that exists
Within your frame
The ripples on your thumbprint
No one ever had the same.

Listen...

You have something to say
Say it proudly
Say it boldly
Never let them scold you.

Never let them make you go away.

Today the birds chose to sleep.
Today the sun began to cool.
Today I didn't feel the need to live.
And today my soldier came back.

There wasn't a single tear from the skies.
Silence. Second silence. Third silence.
But no silence could ever heal my heart.
So I cried for an eternity. Then two. Then three.

Waiting for him to calm me.
Waiting for someone to calm me.
Waiting for sleep to calm me.
Waiting in silence for an eternity.

how lonely it must be to
know,
and know alone

she is a happy ending,
not everyone can wait for.

best part about having no friends
is having no enemies either
best part of having no significant other
is being able to feel whole by yourself
best part of solitude is
solitude
best part of loneliness is...
I wouldn't know that. I never
felt lonely.

the last time he went out of
his mind he liked it
so much there
that he never came back

not even after the
alcohol left
his blood

he keeps writing to this day

addresses women with 'sweangel'
a combination of sweet
and angel, I guess

but never spends more
than a matter of weeks
with any of them

some take pity on him
and some morbid curiosity

but no one loves him
truly
only his insanity

you don't exist when
my eyes are open
you don't exist when
my blood's not poisoned
when my soul's at peace
when my gut is full
and when I'm in company

So you exist most of the time
dear muse

but that handle was made for his hand
hand - handle
handle - hand

the fingers would close
around it to never let go
It had to have flesh around it
at all times
But the blade...
the blade was still naked. He couldn't let
the blade naked
It wasn't fair

"So that's why you stabbed your
mommy then?" the psychiatrist asked him.

"Yes," he said.

"The knife is more important
to you than mommy?"

"The knife listens. Mommy doesn't."