It's nearly our bedtime and you're asleep now,
you have been for hours--actually--just as I knew
you would be when you first lay down tangled
in a net of blankets, promising, "I won't, I won't"
with drowsy confidence after asked if you were going
to sleep. "I just want to lie down," your gentle hand
shooed me away. And so I went, leaving a light trail
of kisses so I could find my way back.

The news arrived via E-Mail
The fog draped heavy in the wood
The message read “Snail For Sale”
None of the creatures understood.
Their tiny minds had gone blank
The fog had trapped the bluebells
Perhaps it was some mad prank
Nothing round their forest sells.
The ants thought today’s climate dense
The fog had started to clear
Most of them sat on the fence
Trust the ants to interfere.
They wondered what the buyer would give
The fog had now gone.
And where would the snail live
They hadn’t considered that one.
The snail slithered past “vacancy To Let”
With a bit of a smile on his face.
He is out for all he can get
He is just renting the place!

As I close my eyes,
embrace my mind,
and slowly filter out the light.
The only light that's left there is your glow.
Its haunting me inside my dreams
and finds its way through all the seams.
The patchwork, for protection I had sown.

I wonder, is it guilt or pride,
two words
my mind finds ways to hide,
two words
whose actions led to so much pain.
And then I think about that glow
and all the truths forever known.
I see that things will never be the same.......

but alas that glow it will remain.

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou **** me.
From rest and sleep, which yet thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more, must flow
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

I'm sitting in In-School-Suspension
I flick their air with my tongue,
And I can taste the tension
And the humility
Of the acts that got my fellow **** ups here

One was in a fight,
One was selling ***,
One caught with a knife,
The other blew his snot,
On the principal

This room is as bland as bland can be
Tanned walls and tall ceilings,
That are impossible to reach
I just can't shake the feeling,
Of boredom taking over me

This poem has no real purpose,
I'm writing to pass the time,
Only five more hours to go,
Since it's half past nine

Tick, tock, tick tock,
Goes the clock,
Tick, tock, tick, tock,
There it goes again, the clock
With it's ticking,
And it's tocking
It's driving me insane,
Up the tanned walls to the high ceilings
I can't shake the feeling,
Of boredom taking over me

Good-by, proud world, I'm going home,
Thou'rt not my friend, and I'm not thine;
Long through thy weary crowds I roam;
A river-ark on the ocean brine,
Long I've been tossed like the driven foam,
But now, proud world, I'm going home.

Good-by to Flattery's fawning face,
To Grandeur, with his wise grimace,
To upstart Wealth's averted eye,
To supple Office low and high,
To crowded halls, to court, and street,
To frozen hearts, and hasting feet,
To those who go, and those who come,
Good-by, proud world, I'm going home.

I'm going to my own hearth-stone
Bosomed in yon green hills, alone,
A secret nook in a pleasant land,
Whose groves the frolic fairies planned;
Where arches green the livelong day
Echo the blackbird's roundelay,
And ****** feet have never trod
A spot that is sacred to thought and God.

Oh, when I am safe in my sylvan home,
I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome;
And when I am stretched beneath the pines
Where the evening star so holy shines,
I laugh at the lore and the pride of man,
At the sophist schools, and the learned clan;
For what are they all in their high conceit,
When man in the bush with God may meet.

Dont you ever,
think no one cares
that everybody hates you
no one would be friends with you
that you're just a mistake
that's been sent to earth

Because maybe,
there is a person who cares
Maybe,
there is a person that would listen to your cries
Maybe,
there is a person who wants you happy
Maybe,*
there is a person who *googles ways to make you better,
Darling trust me,
there is that person, you just haven't realize it

you only show yourself in dreams
with open arms ready for the hug
ive been longing to give you
since that day i've been mourning.

i always kiss you in those dreams
and you always brush my hair back
whispering in my ear
how everything will be okay now, i have you.

i used to wake up and scream
tears would instantly follow
and id ask the ceiling why
why won't you leave me alone?

but after a few of those
i remembered that im hardly a widow
that im better than tears
i remember that im happy
because you showed me love.


i will always remember you.
and the dreams only soften the blow that you were a disappointment.