There's so much to gain through pain
The struggles bring about an irrevocable strength
Although at times we lose our fight
Each dawn beckons begging us to rise
Courage is the ability to see that so much more could be
Regardless of the troubles that elude you to believe in impossibilities
Before you start cursing your cares away
Remember to look ahead to see what is truly at stake
Tomorrow is a new day

Everyday is hard for me
the thoughts the feelings
the desire and longing to it the end
and when will it end
How will this end
How can I go on like this

the lack of sleep is getting worse
the thinking and dreaming of dying and death
that live in my head
the hurting and pain never lefts me

Fear and panic sweep over me.
I need to move
but I'm paralyzed by my need for normalcy.
One pop of a pill and it will drift away,
and I will sleep.

But sleep is for the weak,
or is sleep for the week?
That's what my body
bounces back and forth between.
There is no middle.
No start.
Eventually an End.

The inner meaning of desire
bounces from my heart to my head,
as if it is the ball in a pin ball machine.
I try to fight off this anxious feeling,
though it is a chemical imbalance in my brain.
Why do I fight with the chemicals in my body?

I fight to feel normal.
I fight to not rely on a simple pop of a pill that my doctor gives me.
She tells me to take it when I need it, she trusts me.
Sometimes I feel that trust is too much.
Because this anxiety is a metaphor for life,
and I know that problems cannot be solved, by one simple solution.
I fight to be strong.

everything we
do is selfish and to boost
our fragile egos.

I came of age
as one of the
many young
knights who would
mature and become
Pirates.
Our kingdom
stretched from
the end of
the world along
the cliff
lined Pacific.
To the
low side of
Alma.
The sprawling
wild canyons
of 6th street,
to the railroad
tracks along
the waterfront.

Daring as we were
we drank straight
from the
bottle while
constantly
losing ourselves
beneath the
shadow of the
Owl.

Our friendship
was a brotherhood
and a hand shake
meant a hell
of alot more
than a greeting.

Black eyes and
stab wounds
worn like
medals earned
in battle.
The ******* was
white as bone
and the girls
were still as
fresh as the
Tangerines we
picked from
our neighbors
yards
in the summer.

The young Pirates
of those days took
all this Town
had to
give.
And even when
beaten down and
hungover.
The need to
experience still
fought on for
more.

The Armor
I wore in
those early
days was
youth.
And that armor
with stood
it all.

Youth can and will
endure many
things.
Almost all things.
All things
that
is but
time.

It's
bleeding rain,ripping through and
dripping out of the sky again
anyone got a
bandage?