I slept easier knowing I had you at my side, I guess the point I'm trying to get across is that I don't want you to go...
I  wore us like the heart on my sleeve and I can't sleep at night knowing it's gone...
I wish it had never left. I wish you never left. I'll hold on to you, until time takes me.

Walk with me, dear? The world isn't a beautiful place,
take a glance through my lenses, for you need them as I need yours.
Lets climb the mountain, just to fall back down. Walk with me, and see the changes take us.

Can we even fix our problems?

You and I together, atop the cliff by the ocean.
"You'll leap with me."
Were you ready? Because I wasn't either.
But together we thought we would, even though together was the mistake we made, to hold to our hearts as close as we could.

Things aren't perfect and neither am I, so why did I take you while I lived my life?  
I could barely walk on my own two feet, and neither could you.  
We gave our all together,
just couldn't keep the flame alive.

We are gathered here today,
in separate parts of the house,
taking part in some sort of mindless self indulgence,
not really gathered at all.

The repetition of foreign house music,
sun shining through what we call, "the blinds,"
and beer bottles scattered around the house from last night.
Four bodies, sick.

The laundry needed to be taken care of,
yet nobody had the drive,
nobody had the energy,
we were all sick.

I've lost hope in my own salvation.

Jung Boulevard was the street that struck my chords.
The first time I saw her walking down the street,
her sisters were at her side.
I had them over for a "house warming" fire that night,
where the fire burnt out in twenty minutes,
and we all just sat in the cold with no words to share.

She knew she loved me in that moment,
and I knew I loved her.

Some nights her and I sat under the stars,
November cold kept us close.
We kept filling the air with empty words,
only begging to hear the lull of each voice.

The night we had *** in a candle lit room,
The time we came across the pack of dogs,
Waiting at the bus stop for you...
pieces of us.

The memory haunts me,
and I hope it haunts you too.

I don't get on here to read what others write, i'll be the first to admit it in all honesty. I don't get on here to post and expect people to see what I write, and I'm not trying to make it as some poet. I am here to vent, to look for someone who can help, to help myself as well, this is my space where I can put my feelings into the open and nobody say a word about them. I love it endlessly. I believe this community is a beautiful one, so thank you for letting me open up here.

You see,

I'm a normal guy, who leads a normal life. But when we take a step back, we start to ask ourselves "what is normal?"

Defined by google, normal is to "conform to a standard."

But who makes this standard?
The Media.

See, through television, the radio, the internet, social media, etc. etc. we've been told that "This is what normal is, it doesn't change."

For a while this has been true, people of my generation especially. are aware but seem to still follow societal norms. They take in what the media has to say, and practically live by it. We have teenage girls starving themselves to be models, young men getting railed on ******* and alcohol, going out and being reckless, winding up dead, or hurting someone else, because of the media. We have these enabling parents, who all know that feeding this is wrong but still fall into it as well to make their kids happy.

There are people dying every day, but those who claim themselves as "men of god" living it up in a 3200sq ft home throwing their money away to the church. The best part about it, other people do it too, it isn't just some specific problem. We all do it, and we sleep like children at night.

Want to know what else is wrong?

The pharmaceutical industry, handing out "medication" like it's free.

Want to know what's worse?

Your child dying because of it.

Thanks, Mom.

this was the day I left.
Don't keep asking why, I told you why.
I'm sick of miscommunication,
insults,
pushing my absolute hardest just to please you,
and that isn't enough.
See, it drives me up the wall.
Makes me want to scream.
That's why,
not because I hate you,
or don't love you.
No.
I just can't handle the way things were,
and I will not,
ever,
stick around for that.
I can't.

I ******* hated it.

The living room was hostility's epitome,
a battle ground for verbal warfare.
It was toxicity to me,
while the fear of being present was just the coupling quality.
"Afraid" was only crossing my mind,
blending into the couch cushion was my strategy.
Unwelcome in my own home came to be the assumed thought,
backed with the dissatisfaction and inadequacy everyone put upon me.
No leeway to prosper,
and absolutely not a chance to live normally.

-Michael Rucker

Another day on the job.
The typical 7 to 3 I work, day in and day out.

Expressions to all here on this morning,
composed of stone.
A break in time, where the sun has yet to rise,
and we all gather, to watch the sky.

For me,
hope is a Friday afternoon at 3:30,
leaving 25th on White Blvd,
unloading the air compressor,
putting back the last "tear off" shovel,
hoisting my *** on the black lawn chair,
in the shop of Blackburn Roofing,
examining the stench of J.W. Craft,
forcing itself upon me,
waiting for my uncle to arrive with my paycheck.

Her mind was that of a lost child.
She never really knew where exactly she were to be placed.
But, that was when I knew her.
That was when I had no idea what I wanted either.
I loved her though.
She always seemed to give off this sort of,
graceful radiance.
She was absolutely magnificent.
But that was when I knew her.
That was before she knew her place,
and before I knew my own.
That was before she found the many things I still search for.
Friends,
beliefs,
love.
Where she may be today,
and where she may be ever,
I wish the most beautiful fruit from her life.
The very life, she worked years for.
The one she spent countless hours fighting for.
I just wish for her to be happy.
Just as I am, in this lost world.

I've spent the last five years constructing a place to rest,
built to lay every piece of me.
It's rose wood, stained black and glossed.
I trimmed each edge with red,
and held it together with stainless steel, blood, sweat and tears.
Every condescending comment,
each lie told,
forgotten dreams,
and ambitions,
all structural foundation.
Blankets of black and blue hue placed inside,
were my mother's keepsakes to me.
Tar pit lungs and an old liver,
laid with so I could sleep.
Set me down,
and bury me with this coffin I built.

There seems to be such lack for others well being in this world,
I watch as my friends,
go about,
and put themselves before the people who need to be first.
It really sickens me.
Even though I've been guilty of it.
Putting my pleasures first,
guilt free.
Why do I do that?
Why does anyone do that?
Is it ego?
I don't know, but what I do know,
is that we all deserve a place of comfort,
where people help each other out.
Because the way we are taught to live now,
to come first and put everyone else last,
is sickening wrong...

100 Greatest Punk Songs of All Time,
the highlight of my night,
the soundtrack to my day.
Two people next to me,
going back and forth with one another,
making claims "I'm done" yet,
they still stick around.
"Savior"
we all need one.

Dear Rose,

Life has put me through very much just as it has for you and I know you understand that when I reach a point in time, I just break. We all do. Last night was no excuse to make you cry and to stress you out to the point of yelling and from the deepest conviction, I regret every second of my actions. The wrong look from you breaks me, I let the words of others tear me to pieces, and I let those opinions from others dig at me for no reason. I know it's in my control to let that happen, but at times I forget and I don't know what to do. I lose track of the progress I've made with myself and with you. I know I've got things I need to work on and I try my best to work every day at improving myself and I hope you see that. I hope that you don't think less of me for breaking both of us down last night, for being in the wrong and making things worse than what they had to be and what they even were. I hope you still look at me as the guy you fell in love with and not a burden that comes across to only make your life worse. I know I can't take back last night but I can do my best to make every night after that the best you've ever had or at least better than then. Rose, I hope you're making it well today and I hope that the rest of your days are well too. Enjoy the time spent with your mom tonight and enjoy the time you have to think to yourself. I'll be here, and I'll keep the lights on if you need me. My phone will be at my side, and my heart will remain open just as the door will remain unlocked. I love you...

To those who walked away,

I gave it all,
my heart,
my soul,
to have you walk,
and abandon me.
The life I live,
in the utmost conviction,
to help others,
and never hurt them,
still you walk away,
still you leave,
still you care not anymore.
To that, I say "fine"
walk away, leave me alone to move on.
Like some ghost,
floating abroad.

I'd rather sit home alone, than be surrounded by people not looking out for my best interest.
Sure, socialization feels great, but it carries emptiness when it isn't genuine connection.
I never find people to connect with, woe is me.
But **** it, I'm happy where I'm at.

That sun burning my **** skin.
Watching Gerod throw every last bit of trash on the ground,
seeing the rolls and plastic lie atop the pebbles.
and that **** sun.

Can I please rest and watch the shadows dance above,
or could you spare some quiet instead?
For I am exhausted of fighting for similar,
and the weight I carry's dead.
I've decorated my insides with toxicity,
and just brought this temple to the ground.
The fire snuffed in my eyes,
with water poured all around.

Acknowledge this plea, with the ears you were given.
As it is muffled by undertow from my revision.
There is no second sermon to this broken body's cry,
and god ******, there never will be because I couldn't hold myself up at that podium long enough to let loose one more breath.

God, I hold a lover's conviction as powerful as you,
but these bones too weren't meant for this world.
So is this the dilemma I must face,
while others keep pace beneath your shroud?
I don't know everything, and I know I never will.
But that's why I've gone up and won't go down.

I'll try to carry these burdens I hold,
but we all opt out at death,
Do you consider the things we think about, during our last breath?
So show me where you'll go and I'll show you where I go too,
because I don't know what's at the end, but I'm not going alone.
I am not alone.

Being miles below ground, I have become diamond.
Waited for a chance,
to shake the dirt from my back,
but it never happened, because I never decided.
Instead I chose to hold,
and let this weight take it's toll on me.

Leave me alone

Don't you think you've done enough,
damage on  your own?

I can't stand to look in your direction,
the shadow you cast is in vain.
your eyes scream "disappointment"
I hate hearing your name.

If words could describe,
how horrible you are,
everyone else will realize,
you're simply "sub-par".

I know that you're a mistake,
I never needed you anyway.

So leave me alone
let me go on my own
this is my home
I'll never step back into your unknown.

The smile that's plastered on your face,
is as fake as the life you lead.
Your goals are motivated by spite,
it blinds what  you perceive.

You're everything I ******* hate,
but I wish I could ignore,
the fact that you still exist,
and your "patronizing self-centered arrogance."

I Put all I had on the line for you.
To be thrown away and forgotten.
Set to the side, for everything else.
You told me you loved me.
You told me we had a future.
You lied.
You did what everyone else did and just ******* left.
You used me until you didn't have to.
You stole my heart,
My happiness,
And the peace of mind I worked so hard for.
Do you even feel remorse?
Does it feel lonely in your bed?
How does it feel to know you broke me?
You don't care,
I don't know why I do honestly.
Maybe because I know how it feels to lose something you put so much time into.
I know you sleep well at night.
I know you don't think of me, but I hope you do.
I hope you feel sorry.
I hope you hate the choices you made.
I hope you hate yourself.
When you look in the mirror, shall misery embody itself upon you.
I hope you stay home and realize that alone is how you'll die.
Your animals will die before you and you'll die before me.
That funeral will be nice to watch.
And when I stomp on your grave as a sincere "*******" I hope you feel it.

Self-righteous desire to speak,
seeming impossible upon "genuine."
The overbearing stature of this burden,
bared like a cross, hearts and sleeves.
Behold, the nuisance choking graciously on falsetto cries.
locked within skull cavities.

Mutuality funding mindless self-indulgence.

I made it,
nobody can take what I have earned,
nobody can strip me of these last years,
nobody can tell me I didn't make it.

Time brought me to you,
The tide took me away,
In your heart,
I must stay.
For you have my own,
And I can't let go,
The storm surges,
I tremble at your ghost.

-M.R.

Visual projections, cast through my eyes.
Demons,
The ******,
Criminals,
Slaves of all nature,
Broken Individuals,
Torn families,
Victims...

All in my back yard.

I see your car everywhere,
and I don't mean every once in a while.
Literally every time I drive,
I look around and there you are.
Not you.
But, what should have been you.
I always ask myself why you left,
analyzing each and every encounter to see where I went wrong.
But I wasn't in the wrong.
I did my very best to make things work,
to make you happy,
to just let the stars align in the right way.
But the opposing force was you,
you weren't dedicated ever,
you let go the day we set sail,
and you gave up a chance at being happy.
Not me.

I'm past it now, but there is still that part that wonders what was going on in your mind during the whole escapade.

Porch sitting,
a cigarette lit between my index and middle,
as usual.
Safari sitting beside me,
unable to comprehend the world around fully,
startled by the noises that night carries on.

"Leave where you're at."
"No."
I commend the brave souls, who face this earth.
As for souls similar,
the screened in area at the back of the house, is home.

The moon's radiance shedding on the sky,
the crickets howling,
Safari, still scared.
Another night, with another cigarette.
The white wicker chair is still, home.

"Carry on, walk away."
"Never."
The heart lies in the grass,
five shades darker than five hours ago.
The soul carries this landscape.
The white concrete floor, home.

For now I wait,
as you lie to your family,
and I leave my job.
The things we do for love,
profound to the furthest extent.
The things I do to show it,
exposing the marrow inside me,
reaching lengths I couldn't dream of before.
All at a chance to experience happiness.
All at a chance,
to be with someone,
I could easily see myself burying.
Not today,
or tomorrow,
but in the future.
I love you,
from the deepest depths of my being,
and would give anything,
to hear you laugh again.

We put together pieces,
carry the weight we don't want to,
and break our backs.
We live to see our kids grow,
hope to fall in love,
and pray to god we don't stop moving.
Take a look at the way things are,
and tell me it isn't breathtaking.
Peer through your neighbors window,
watch the heartache when the father dies,
behold a child's face when they say "where's dad?"
Watch their neighbor,
the struggling mother with three kids and no husband.
Witness the man winning the lottery,
the woman being made C.E.O.
Look at this world and tell me what you see isn't beautiful.
Watch this world fall apart and be built again.

I had been stripped of my clothing.
Every part of me, bare.
Left feeling vulnerable,
like cattle,
stuck on some wide range.
The cold nipped at every part of my body,
turning the veins blue,
separating me from my extremities.

I could feel the frost bite.

I understood the barren wasteland.

I finally got past it.

It slips between the fingers, like grains of sand.
Time, becomes lost once dedicated to the catastrophe called responsibility.
Do we ever seem to catch up with it, or does it simply catch us?
Perhaps, just perhaps, time is an assailant, a provider, and a blessing.
Disappearing right before your eyes, fading into something close to if not exactly, nothingness.