do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.

My good is not good enough
My good is a failure
My good makes tears
My good is not good enough
So what is good enough to make good?

In the mist of it all, I'm just a yearning, passionate soul, looking to be loved.
To be understood,
To be seen for mind verses matter.
In the mist of it all, I'm lost in a body of a bodies.
Everyday thousands of people pass by me.
On their bikes, in their cars, on the bus, by feet.
I'm in my own world thinking about THOSE people thinking,
At the same time I'm competing with myself.
I find myself at a at very Freud stand point.
In the mist of it all, I've always seen right and wrong.
I used to see the in betweens,
I used to see the befores and predict the afters.
And now, in the mist of all this doubt, all this fear, all these people,
I find myself lost,
I find myself scared,
I find myself lonely.
This mist scares me of my own greatness, but at the same time it serves my incompetence.
I look at her, I look at him, I look at all of THEM,
And in the mist of it all, they look okay.
They look happy,
They are riding their bikes, taking the bus, driving their cars,
And walking towards something....
In the mist of it all,
I know assumption is an ignorant observation,
We are all a spectrum in this thing called life.
but in the mist of it all, I need a security, an explanation, a freedom to feel, to cry and to indulge in self-doubt.
But in the mist of all this mist, I need some one to hold me tight,
To reassure that my fears are only fears,
To secure my feet,
To believe in my thoughts, because they don't believe in me.
To make me feel,
God.
Where have I fallen in all this mist.
God please help me live, feel, cry for passion and not for pain.
In the mist of it all,
In the mist of it all,
I'm left with thoughts, thoughts,
And thoughts.......
In this godforsaken mist.
I yearn for love, I yearn for hope, I yearn for dream....

I got lost in the idea of love.
I got lost in your lies.
I got lost in the lust I once yearned for.
I found myself at odds ends,
reality vs reality
both bitter, and both sweet.

I thought you were sweet to me at one point in time,
But you've always been bitter, just like my coffee without sugar.
I drink my coffee black,
with one pack of sugar.

I didn't lose faith in love, because I haven't found it yet.
reality sets in
the past is sweet,
the future is sweet
and my coffee?
It's not bitter.

Familiarity was a safety net I was unconsciously drawn too.
I reaked civic and utter independence,
But as I got thrown to the curb of life I found my self more twisted than a cork in a wine bottle.
I think about fear more than I actually should.
The thoughts of the future consume me and my being,
"I'm destined for  greatness, I know I am, I know I am."
I say it out loud all the time, but little do the eyes around me know that, vaguely do I believe it myself.
Eyes are constantly watching me.
Me.
Me.
With hopes of success, and the temperament that I am meant to be great.
A thinker for the world,
A healer for humanity,
A lover for hope.
As eyes watch god,
My vains bleed fear.
I want to believe.
I want to be.
I want to.
I want to.
I want,
But why do I believe I can't.
The mind is a tricky thing in our classist world of upper elites.
Who's bound to break the boundaries into a world of power.
Who's bound to make a change.
My mind is my epic failure,
and my most distinguished enemy.
My subconscious screams "failure, failure, lose, lose, lose"
My willpower struggles to hold on as the elitist feet of silver knocks me off my horse.
I'm in a epic battle, but sometimes I forget with who.
Is it with me?
Is it with the epic power of this world?
Is it with fear of the future?
Who am I, if I am not adequate to myself,
To my being,
To my heart.
When did I get so lost.
And how did it happen?
Why isn't that rain no longer makes rainbows?
When did lemonaid become bitter?
How do I believe in my hopes and dreams?
Am I weak that I'm afraid of the unknown?
Am I weak because I fall to the feet of lust?
Am I weak, or am I really strong because of the knowledge I gained along the way?
My wine tastes bitter, and aged.
My mind grows tired,
My heart reeks pain.
Silently I stare at the wall because there are no windows or doors.
Silently I sip my bitter wine,
and silently it tastes aged.

You're lips were so sweet.
Mine were so confused.
You were different than most.
You were honest, kind and thoughtful.

You'd tired to look me into my eyes, that constantly saw fear,
You tried to figure out the way I saw the world.
You got my humor, and sarcasm.
So you'd laugh when I'd laugh too.

I was so lost with the past, to let you in my future.
Realization kicked in, just as I blinked.
Then you blinked too..
Now my lips are no longer confused,
but they are bitter.