I'm goin' downtown
         To see what's goin' around

Nothing but a bunch of empty space
             because reality is hittin' people in da' face.

      No style, no talk.
      Just a walk,

around the block,

I shouldn't even be out.
       But there is no sound

                   in my cell:

Isolation;
Decrease in education.

No way out, it still gonna spread.
Watch out, before people stay away
from you like you already dead.

I'm goin' to my ghostown,
Watching people from above
Having a common stare-down
They aren't the only ones to know.

All of this:
is The Pits.

No way out,
stuck here...no doubt.

Can we talk about the daisies that lie in wait
as the little sister shouts
                 to her brother not too far,
that flowers aren’t only for girls

because one day he will have to bring them to the                            ****** shape in the green grass

             where she rests and the daisies have finally wilted,

store-bought ones
                 don’t have the same charm it enraptured his sister with

and didn’t create the same smile on his drying lips,                    
             the watercolor red stains his eyes

                                 and the veins become
       the stems of a regret-filled life.

Long lines of clouds could be seen
under the dense blue where a so-called
  'space' is available who wish to explore a
new world where humans do not inhabit
the mind and take control of your body.

how freeing, not even a bird could compare
to aimlessly floating around next to the Stars,
glimmering in the dark abyss, which I compare
to my old planet filled with a dark sense of humor.

This foreboding taste of the lost little girl,
who is an alien among her own and
to the stars. But at least those welcome her
with bright grins and burns. Not a sugarcoated
tongue who forces its way down your throat.

                               for simply

                being          the        Weird

                                     one.

By the river we sat,

the fish squirm below.

They remind me of speckled dirt.

A stone flies, spattering  

rings of a tree which show  

our life over the short years.



The insects that sing and thrive during a  

Summer day relish in a sun

so warm it brightens our skin

turning it deep red as the maple leaves

when autumn shows its cold shoulder.  



The color slowly hurts as the harsh winds

hit our cheeks with a slap

full of rules and stricter discipline.  

Distance is not the only thing

that grows between us.



Snow drops appear slowly, yet

I sit waiting by the river for you.

Chills form, I stand as still as the snow.

Leaving footprints of longing, I backtrack

every time I spot a piece of fresh grass

sprouting out of the blank blanket;

A new-born friend, that is very weak.

Searching for a replacement as time grows.



The river thaws, Winter ends, bringing  

Spring in poor conditions.  

Mud has encased the entirety of the water.

So thick, it is a disturbing smell, or it could

be you I think of so fondly.

Your booming voice has never been so clear;

Bringing a rain so soft,

it makes me tremble under its pressure

as you shed all my tears.

Companion
                    For
Life.
          liar!
Leaving me behind,
Soar, soar!

You selfish bird.
Spread your seeds;

In the mountains,
we carve our hearts
The sun rising soon
Waiting for a melody
As we become in tune

Withering under the heat
Our love burns away
Like the webs spiders weave
Stringing our mistakes
The everlasting moment

Watching our hands prune
Dying with your last breath
Your soul flies over the moon
Casting a shadow over our heart
Vowing to never forget you

With this lovely little tune
If only, I could have loved you longer

You pick me up with your fingers
A hungry, dominant stare lingers
Pulling my limbs apart
Your mouth reeks with 'Sweetheart.'

In this lifeless state of wonder
Glazed by societal views, dragging me under
Clasped tight with no escape
Wanting to scream, '****!'

People walk all about
Humming a soundless tune of self-doubt
The drinks keep coming
Steeped in endless fuming

Friends joke around
A truth sealed and bound
Hiding behind a deadpan
Sustaining the image of an American man

‘More!’, everyone shouts
Raising their cups forgetting their spouse
Sitting here with a straight face
Wanting to forget my workplace

In a drunken stupor
The glass wracks with guilt
Under pressure of a gaze
Willing for them to shatter

--People below carry on
The graying sky a signal  
To the viewer's thoughts,
thoughts about a perished soul

Room full of old confessions
Dreary with a taste of venom
Held in the palm of a sinner’s hand
Stuck out waiting for someone to eat off it

No one could take the weight,
The burden of being an iniquitous man
Before, his hands were occupied  
Holding two different hands in each  

One let go too soon
The other held on too tightly
And now they were both gone
Slipping out of these deceitful fingers

They tease and compel
Devouring into my ill eyes
Lurking beneath the wilting yellow
Murky black blends in with the night
She taunts in the lightness of the day

This bed dips a bit lower every day
In disturbed curiosity and jealousy
Goading a reaction of plea  
Staring in unadulterated penance  
Wellness improving with each interaction

Greedy to drink in the color
Eyes feast upon them
Dancing slyly in sync
Dripping in need and want
One waits to dance in my head

These chains are finally unlocked
Feet find purchase of the cold flat floor
Only exuberating the ugly drug
To tear the flesh of yellow off her skin
All the while, in a manic spree of glee

It keeps blinding me                                
  not the pain                                                      
    no­t the jealousy                                                  
      not the shame
        not the depression

                               It's the Love.

So bright it burns
No longer a fleeting feeling
Just a passionate sizzle
As it protests against my skin
Adding a different kind of hue
Described as feminine colors
Some men hate it so

Twinkling with a glare,
  not the face
    not the torso
      not the hands
        not the legs

                               It's the Eyes.

Dark as day swallowing the light
Greedy for more color
In wait, it becomes a game
It glares with determination
Reflecting its true desires
Blissfully unaware of another's intent
In hope it finds purchase of more value

Beating down with persistence,
  not the brain
    not the stomach
      not the lungs
        not the intestines

                             It's the Heart.

True inner beauty
is what captures the most
Relative to time and space
It may grow weary with years
Though it will never distinguish its heat
Pulsing vibrantly every single second
Divulging upon raw emotion and vision

I carry this speaker
hoping their voices will be heard
more precise and cleaner
booming loudly word for word
--deafening those nearby

Moving those emotionally
and
a bit rationally
sharing hearse and raw
opening the eyes
to those who never saw

I hope to share a different point of view
without the judgmental whips
that sting like a tattoo
only offering their own remarks and tips
none of it spits any true

For whoever is free
please,
vouch for my plea
this volume has a limit
only brave hearts outstretch it
--don't become a cynic

Mark these words well
for it's hard to be repeated
moreover, speak and tell
do not perceive this as conceited
or
all our lives are broaching a newfound hell

Every thing,
Every single one
Is repeated
No originality
In a world of fragility

Succulent flourishes
a brief sense of essence
fleeting life within a blade of grass
cutting reality by a sliver
rational itching sensation
overwhelming pit of doom
distinct summary, concluded
the life we call ours is no more
falling one by one in a green field
filled with dread and suspense
being consumed with blinding greed

This chair does not get any older
sitting here, it dents with old emotions
no longer still but a swelling embrace
a cushion to my exhaustion
it becomes weary in wait
holding me like my legs can do no more
it resembles your hair in a way
choppy brown and representing age
sometimes I wonder if this chair will
become brand new again
like a new random chance
of good luck that I wish your body
could sustain whilst gazing at you
pondering if you can feel my passive stare

Perhaps it would have been better
to lay with you on your bed
making it a little less lonely
being provided with your warmth
compared to this thin blanket
it was another reminder of how
I cannot feel your body heat against mine
your bed dips a bit more every day
showing your weight, may be a little deeper
though it sings me good night
while squirming in your presence and
the fact this chair is becoming quite uncomfortable

I wonder if I will ever get off it again
waiting for your eyes to peer at me again,
again, to tell me that your leaving now
and the coldness really will settle in

Wind brushes my hair
combing through with its cool fingers
tugging with airy emotion
twisting into knots
pecking my cheeks swiftly
clear blue eyes tear up
making me feel chilled
and a little less lonely

buzzing bees all around
copying its sound
heart cannot help but pound
voices hum in the background

dizzying gaze so wide
colors swirl in a heavy tide
red and black tickled my side
breathing slowly died

pale skin glitters in the sun
blue skies water halts it's run
patronizing eyes said 'done'
What happened to my loved one?

lifeless eyes stare back into my own.
perhaps this mirror is reflecting
my inducing thoughts
calling like a seductive woman’s moan.  
sometimes I wonder
if this mirror will
attach itself to me one day
to the point where people
can't distinguish us apart

eyes devour tasteless words
sprung up from the depths
conniving little snitches
Her nails twist and twitch
dripping in, with disgust
sipping on the attics secrets
                   it leaks
      and
                   it reeks
She sits like a falling queen
bordered with flaking fake gold
the lips crumbling dry
She had no tone left
caked in old skin
many Women scream 'poor Her'

Music is music
One can not help their feet
as they move accordingly
One genre is not meant
for a single person alone

Music does not judge
it encourages many
no matter of their race or gender
define yourself in those lyrics
and don't let pop culture get in the way

Petals fly up high
Wilting with ginormous life
Pink falls meticulously
Brushing the dewy ground
Fresh tears warmed by
the everlasting sunlight
Giving a breath of fresh air
in hopes of regaining
movement and emotion
Spring has a beautiful ring
and a underlying allergic thing

Pretentious eyes
never thought twice
before we cut ties
raised by alcohols entice
as droplets of water flies

My feet dangle in question
if these legs will ever grow
or perhaps find motivation
to make their own tracks again
leaving imprints of obliviousness

Wheels turn, stuck momentarily
a glimpse of looping future
pushing with a heavy burden
footsteps echo hollowly
dragging approaching fate

It blooms with sadness
it grows in the wallowing night
calling out with frivolous colors
making me shiver all over again

Reading lustrous chapters
Softly kissing the words
Pages embracing with numbers
That steadily increase
As these eyes age
With a definable yearning
Wondering when a novella
Will begin writing a chapter
About a 'you' and 'me'

A reminder that is given
white petals drift slowly
turning brown and shriveled
like your empty promises
drowning in the water
being consumed
by the chemical bonds
that feed your lies
forever pricking your fingers
with the thorns you place
on my body, stabbing myself too

He insists
preparing his zucchini
paying adequate attention
becoming a cook-off
looking forward to the tiramisu
the event drastically physical

no where
no place
no light


it's inescapable
feet stapled, cold

fleeting breathe
stale air, dry


no ailment
no time
no life


darkest color of night
dancing dots

left with a sticky taste
a rumble of pleas

Footprints in the sand
led me back to where I stand
the sun slaps me with a glare
a convincing circular dare

Shell beneath my feet
looking all innocent and sweet
the foamy wave
fills my hollow cave

Glitter sprinkled on the ground
birds overcast with a distant gnawing sound
her eyes were a clearer than the blue
Dear Daughter, you shame the view

Words hurt they say,
but the feeling of them being etched
is akin to new found pain
a pen would be easier,
staining my skin, in-erasable
the pencil is more dull
perhaps then will I finally feel smart
it feels like an unwanted tattoo.

Whoever said to give up
had already gave up

Whoever said to stop
they never knew the word 'go'

Whoever said don't cry
don't know a broken heart

Whoever said your broken
is only repeating what they are

Whoever said you should die
has never climbed a step to live