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Aug 2021 · 172
Nathan Young Aug 2021
It's the permanent numbers etched into the skin
to remind oneself that there will come a day,
that this world will cease to exist with a concluding spin.
It is here, I shall pray for all to embrace one another
in a final display of vulnerable affection whilst we decay.

A seed of saving leeched by the greed of parasitic weeds.
The very inception of its breed spelled inability to succeed.
Constant desiring to liberate persecutions and afflictions,
but it is this exact hunger that leads to internal inflictions.
One cannot do it alone, so add it to the list of unfortunate convictions.

Time is short, yet the countdown remains for this stupid man suit.
Dare to engage in this pursuit to bear rejuvenating fruit?
It matters not, for all roads en route lead to the same absolute.
Stoically resolute, cling tight to this eventual demise,
for perhaps a sacrifice is needed to finally see the sun rise.

Maybe, just maybe, this feverish dream will be sought through
"and I can breathe a sigh of relief because
there will be so much to look forward to."
Jun 2021 · 255
Candle and the Silhouette
Nathan Young Jun 2021
It was that fateful dream when I closed my eyes,
And was met with a sheer vast nothingness.
It was within that abyss that a flickering light emerged.
I reached out, hoping it was sentient, but I was playfully deceived.
It was a mere candle, burning bright and bleeding its waxy exterior.
My hand rested above the slow burn, anticipating some sort of pain
to offset this dreaded abyss that encompassed my peculiar unity.
Fortunately for I, the light only burned brighter with increased intensity.
The illumination continued to dance around my body in a mesmerizing display,
But was abruptly interrupted by a soft tap on my shoulder.
A silhouette of a woman whom I couldn’t seem to pinpoint, stood before my gaze.
Although the flickering candle seemed to dim, a hand outstretched could still be made out,
As if anticipating for my palm to meet hers.
I obliged the offer.

Memories, past and potential, were so vibrant that materialization became second nature.
Former lovers greeted me with a genuine smile, but soon dissipated,
while two manifestations of my preconceived identity stood before me.
One of a child and one of a near distant future, each possessing a poisoning barb,
that carries with it, an omnipotent plague I’m self-burdened with.
A nod is all I could muster, to signify to these unhappy souls that it’s okay to suffer,
and more importantly, to have acceptance from what has already happened.
You cannot change the pain you once felt, but you can change how you feel now.
A blinding light emerged and I was met with a mirror,
that defied the standard protocols of how a reflection should be portrayed.
The reflection sat while I stayed standing, and he smiled while I remained inquisitive.
Brothers held the reflection’s shoulders while friends stood beside in succession.
The final curtain of truth finally revealed: I’ve always been loved.
The silhouette faded and I was left with only a puddle of that once bright candle.

The wax may have fully melted, but it can always be repurposed.
A restructuring of the same foundation, but perhaps with a fresh style or scent.
You don’t have to conform to the same specification you once were at.
The pain and suffering has passed and a new candle is upon you, so
burn away the toxins that you’ve left behind and retrieve that which you lost;
The inner peace that has always been a light against life’s troubled abyss.
Jun 2020 · 227
Nathan Young Jun 2020
It's the sweet aroma that dances along your face,
with tantalizing prickles upon your dry, rugged pores.
All it takes is one deep, harmonious breath,
and with a heavy solemn sigh, you'll know that love is in the air.

It took only one whiff of your sensual fragrance
to know that I'd be enraptured by your comforting embrace.
It matters not where my travels lead,
for I'll always find a scent that alludes me to you.

Even now, as my body withers away,
my soul yearns to be complete with your intoxicating display.
We've definitely had a good run of fun, you and I,
but I think it best to wave our toxicities goodbye.

...It started with a cough, thus boring an underlying sign.
Maybe had I not met you, this amalgam would've been benign.
Aug 2019 · 204
Nathan Young Aug 2019
Am I the right piece that fits your life
or was I merely misplaced in the wrong box?
The shapes are starting to spread thin
and the puzzle is nearing completion.

There once stood a beautiful meadow where the tulips grew,
but the vibrant colors have wilted to a palish gray.
The appreciation for this natural serenity still exists,
but the love...the love is questionable.

Have you outgrown the nutrients that I provided
or is it simply the necessity to spread your seeds elsewhere?
I cannot and will not know the truth
for all I am left with is memorial remnants.
Mar 2019 · 515
Nathan Young Mar 2019
There’s a stillness in the air,
A quietness that pervades the recycled breaths
of nine-to-fivers who slave away for financial welfare.
Upon the bright screens, our eyes longingly glare, exhausted,
while the mind stares to a lively forest; a lovely dream
of a much more beautiful affair.

We live through a lens instead of our eyes.
We’d rather text, than read in-person goodbyes
and we muster up apologies, oblivious to what the word implies.
We’ll dance to our phones rather than move to the shows.
Reality must be so daunting if you must choose a shell;
A safe place to call home for your personal hell.

In the grand scheme of things, humans don’t live long.
Embrace the world and all that belongs.
Enjoy the sounds of a vibrant forest’s song.
Own up to your faults and right your wrongs,
for there will come a day when you aren’t so strong,
and you’ll  be nervously waiting for death to come along.
Feb 2019 · 136
Nathan Young Feb 2019
Within the deepest trenches of a mind so haunted by past failures and juvenile decisions,
I find little to no solace to ease the insanity that wreaks havoc on my psyche.
Innocent scapegoats to former lovers, a lack of accountability to an absence of courage;
Visions stroll past my eyes, reminding me of my inadequacy of responsibility.

It started with a dream, and it was swiftly confined.
Next came confidence, which slowly declined.
Thus, the hope who always dropped by, inevitably resigned.
It’s typical for people to pass the blame onto others,
But I like to remind my state of mind that it was I
Who left my friends behind.

I’d ask for forgiveness, but I don’t think such purity could be applied,
for an apology may equate to an excuse in the ears of the bruised.
It’s why I hide my words behind closed lips seeing as how
I can’t build a bridge over this great divide I ratified.

I’ll never forget you.
You, the one who I troubled with such pain.
Oct 2018 · 263
Nathan Young Oct 2018
Who are you to judge that which doesn't concern you?
Are you trying trying to plant your pedicured feet in tattered sneakers
or is it a twisted satisfaction your mind eagerly propels through?
A desire so sickening of emotional magnitude, you might as well
use your dainty fingers to reopen a freshly sewed knife wound.
Oh, that's not what you "meant" to do? It's not I you have to tell.

Continue to play the innocent card, it's what you do best;
An Ace you can't seem to stress, giving protection like a bullet-proof vest,
whereas the downtrodden can't fathom to use their resources
to unleash a slugfest you oh so request.
Ultimately, it's an oppression of border-line obsession
that conveys a weakness infesting your malignant mind.

What audacity must you have to belittle those who are persecuted;
mistreated by society and suppressed by privileged voices.
You must truly be afraid of Outcasts if you require silence
for their songs and melodies seek inner harmony and bliss.
It is these traits that are a forgotten treasure in the eyes of the entitled,
for they'll dismiss and deny its existence since it actually requires hard work

We've been beaten and bruised, disappointed and disheartened,
but we as outcasts will continue to remain defiant to your sinister pestilence.
We have a fire in our hearts that burns the brightest amongst the darkest of skies,
and that is something your fragile heart will never be blessed with.
Aug 2018 · 223
Wine Stains
Nathan Young Aug 2018
Those entryways, the abrupt angled hallways, the familiar loose doorknob,
no longer feels like a home, but a hulking shell of empty memories.
The once shiny portraits of smiling kin are now caked with grime
while the coffee table is layered with dust denoting the time.
Cracks litter the kitchen countertop as if in reference to European trade routes.
The walk-in closet is still busted, just how Father intended.
In a past life time, the blood stains were thought to be wine,
but you can’t expect someone to consider that the house is covered with spills.

Eventually, they came..
Standardized outfits. Golden stars. Ranged enforcement. Stone cold faces.
They abducted the younglings, on the premise of humanly love,
fully expecting the backlash of threats, screams, and tears.
That was when the memories began to fade; the ties to bloodlines had all, but evaporate. A new last name and a new house,
but nothing could resemble the home that was lost: the various “wine” stains..

They were the closest thing I could remember of my Mother.
Apr 2018 · 133
Nathan Young Apr 2018
Conversing through a brew, amongst neon lights
one would say shooting the **** about past fights.
There were cries of laughter and of sorrow.
All the while the night becomes darker
and yet, there wasn't a sense of tomorrow.

We decided to drive to the beach to unwind.
The stars were bright and endless; a way to unbind
our tangible selves from the frivolities of life.
It didn't matter how insignificant we really are;
we'll heal, we'll grow, we'll walk the north star.

Separate, but equal beds, we laid.
Asking the most random of questions,
a fetal vulnerability began to be displayed.
Ultimately, we solidified the charade that
in the next life, I'm a dolphin and she, a mermaid.

The following day, I was awoken by a pillow hitting my face.
I didn't want her to leave so I suggested lunch, she agreed.
Lesson learned: it's easy to pick a place when you erase your birthplace.
Initially, I thought our little muse would then diffuse,
but as fate would have it, we oozed blood from fresh tattoos.

I could divulge more details about our adventures,
but I'd have to ask how much time do you have
because condensing the stories won't do you any justice.
Instead, I'd rather discuss my emotions I didn't think were possible
for I have sailed motions of uncharted oceans.

There was once a time where my heart turned icy.
Even though life experiences shot me the **** up,
the "beating" trophy only seemed to thaw.
I picked at straws to apply a healing salve
to revitalize the tender, raw tragic flaws.

I've done plenty wrong in what I consider another lifetime.
I try to make amends for what I've done or what I might do.
Perhaps it's the guilt that's deeply rooted
or maybe it's the love I have for humanity to be saved.
Some would say idealistic, others call it being depraved.

Despite it all, she saw right through my thorns
and thus her walls soon became worn and torn.
My heart wasn't mourned, she held it close to hers,
to be forever adorn. That's when I knew I was home;
for she is my Unicorn.
Mar 2018 · 223
Writer's Block
Nathan Young Mar 2018
I should've seen this coming; I guess it was an inevitable moment.
The time has come where my most trusted friend,
my pen, refuses to listen. It's booming, vibrant voice soon turned
to fearful whispers and from there, only a solemn silence.
I stare at my Pilot G-2, longing for extravagant inspiration,
but the sudden rush of ideas only completes a stanza.
It's desperation at its most figurative finest; a hand reaching
out into the void, fully knowing that nothing can clasp your
callous laden palm. This is when the blank sheets sing victory
for they no longer have to feel my ritualistic, linguistic carvings
upon their soft skin. It's a bittersweet feeling to desire defilement
on a clean page, all on the premise of conveying my *******, since
it's the only "person" who can listen. I'm sorry, Paper. It's not your fault that I dump my problems on you.

I'm just a sick ****.
Jan 2018 · 194
Nathan Young Jan 2018
Questions were inquired as answers were sought
for you thought what you may have caught,
was a pseudo opportunity; a fraudulent jackpot.
With each of the prospect's responses, you formed
your own interpretations, determining which fits the slots.
You were relentless with curiosity; a mental onslaught.
You wanted to make sure you weren't caught in a blind spot.

Board games fill the mind to decipher if it's all a ruse.
Is this Monopoly or Risk? Checkers or maybe Chess?
Issue "Stop and Frisk" for the detainment is familiar
and it allows you to access and address the fears you have.
Profess your worry, express your stress, all in the name of progress.
All the while the prospect shall not digress.
Let the questions and answers compress and coalesce
so the faithfulness may fluoresce.

Cracks of past signs shall now align,
as if nature intended this design all along.
A straight line through the benign land mines,
a possibility you couldn't seem to define.
This juncture doesn't have to be on a fault line.
Dispel the notions of fear and embrace uncertainty.
The night is dark and full of the unknown, but it shall decline,
for your fires burn bright, little sunshine.
Dec 2017 · 244
One-sided Coin
Nathan Young Dec 2017
I’m the *******; the malevolent ****.
That which knew trust equates terrible tricks.
A sinful smile, a damning demeanor,
I am the vines that voraciously bind,
while my thorns poke and ****, like perversive ******.
cancerous clarity, a malignant mind,
tell me, which thoughts you wish to rewind,
for I remember a time when lies were dry
and the only crime I committed was to satisfy
an inherent inner desire to change my pre-determined life.
it is only when I tried to apply my methods that suddenly,
your preconceived notion of I was held in strife.
Fear not, this isn’t the first time my shoulders held such weight.
Your assumptive comments that I inadvertently helped to generate,
is nothing more than child’s play I don’t hesitate to tolerate.
Give me your anger, let loose your pain.
it’ll sustain that evidential feeling of empowerment,
proof that your wounds wouldn’t bleed in vain.
Tell me, could you deem my actions as far as inhumane,
or was it merely that I, wanted to work on my personal campaign.
Oct 2017 · 474
The Folly of Masochism
Nathan Young Oct 2017
The summer heat seems to persist, despite
the allegations of a calendar portraying Fall.
I sit upon a balcony, amongst groups
chattering about their life experiences.
Each individual wearing loose clothing
with neutral colors to avoid perspiration.
I wish I had gotten the memo.

It seems only fitting that I wear
a maroon button-up flannel.
“You’re torturing yourself in this weather!”
Perhaps I just fancy masochism;
my penance for a divine absolution.
Its constraints prove difficulty
as I try to catch a breath of life.

There’s a certain wistfulness to being
an outcast-of-all-trades.
I do desire some sort of social interaction,
but the lack of small talk is definitely freeing.
Who would require this form of communication?
A complete lack of substance of individuality
whereas I’m waiting patiently and hungrily.

They say a healthy temperature is 98.6,
but if I’m constantly a degree or two less,
am I less inclined to be living?
Perhaps it’s the lack of compassion
that causes my blood to turn thicker.
If I may inquire a further inspection,
I’d say I’m in a dire need of a hug.

Meaningless words drown out the silence
as if we should listen to respond.
We form a sentence before the rant is done
and with utilization of reactionary banter,
our hurt emotions are forever lost.
Deep down, we just want a listener to understand.
Please, talk some sense to me.

A couple across from me is sharing
what looks like a strawberry wave smoothie.
The simplicity and beauty tugs
the strings of an aching, irregular heart.
They’re laughing. They’re smiling. They left.
I could sense love in the air,
all the while I sit here, telling myself

“Maybe one day.”
Oct 2017 · 203
A New Hope
Nathan Young Oct 2017
Relax your mind and let your muscles unwind.
You mustn't feel inclined to sexually grind,
for despite the unkind gestures from most of mankind,
my hands shall be resigned until the heart knows.
Only then shall my wrists be unconfined to hold you close.

The waves that crash amongst cliffs is music to my ears,
as if this is the personification of your beautiful mind.
where your years of tears meet the innermost fears.
Still, I shall adhere to sailing in this severe frontier
regardless of how unclear the storm may be.

We don't have to suffer from materialism or extravagance.
Add a spoonful of simplicity, a dash of altruism, and finally,
mix in two-thirds cup of realism: bake to happiness.
Now, serve to one another in the most private of occasions
to avoid any tampering from any alien perversive invasions.

The Night we met overlooking a city of technicolour beats
all past experiences; everything prior now undone.
I found that I'm not another hero lost to martyrdom,
and that this is what it feels like to step into the light of the sun,
for I see how the force is strong with this one
Sep 2017 · 296
Nathan Young Sep 2017
What is the purpose that I was born for?
Please, give me some sort of metaphysical clue
that shall enlighten my fading sanity.
I'm tired from drinking an endless brew,
I'm exhausted from all the venom I spew,
and above all else, this rings true:
I ache from being viewed as ultimately shrew.

All that I can fathom is being a martyr;
a gift to a bleeding world to which us humans caused.
There is so much greed and little to no sacrifice
that eventually, humanity will die out, that's the price.
So, pull my arm, shatter my heart, and crack my ribs.
Don't worry, you've already forsaken that; my life will suffice.
If I were to give a semblance of advice, do be precise
when you slice, for I don't want to ask twice
to be buried six feet under, in earthly paradise.

Pain has long walked away, you needn't be concerned.
Continue your quest to dig your claws to that which I hold dear,
for I don't know how much there is left to give,
but your ravenous thirst has reached a new frontier.
I don't understand how one is never quenched,
but what I can muster is even after I perish, I'll still forgive.
Though I throw around the word loosely, I don't hate.
Humanity must succeed; life's fate to inflate,
to transcend all misery and greed that seems to dictate.
This isn't up for debate, I'm ready for my blind date.
My fate awaits, for a blade that'll serrate and mutilate,
but please, one last thing: don't forget that my love
wasn't something you could just calculate or replicate.
Nathan Young Aug 2017
Dear Suicide,
What must I do to acquire
that which most I know desire,
for I seek a warrior's death
while I draw upon my last breath.
The war known as life is daunting
and each passing battle is more haunting.
Believe me, to know what would be on my
epitaph is something I consider taunting.

Dear Reaper,
Were you the one that ferried the others away?
You must've been the entity that snatched those that strayed;
A chivalrous display while gifting the ebony bouquet.
Beautiful in its own way, your first impression was memorable
for your limited interaction shall never fade or decay.
I don't mean to downplay your game or integrity,
but ever since my birthday, you waiting for me is quite cliche'.

Dear Afflicted,
This is for everyone who is suffering or might not last.
I encourage those of you who are still breathing
to broadcast your demons and holdfast
upon the candle that brightens what darkness has amassed.
The world is full of people who a seek a sign just like you;
You don't have to be the outcast.
If no one else, let me bear the weight
for my experiences have molded me to this fate.
My shoulders and heart are yours to amputate,
and if your inner demons decide to dissipate,
perhaps the new dawn will come, and we can finally celebrate.
For Sean Neal and for everyone else in my life that I know is going through tough times.
Apr 2017 · 304
Fine Print
Nathan Young Apr 2017
I'm expendable and I guess that's okay.
When I serve my purpose, I'm discarded.
Without second thoughts, I'm pushed out
of the life I helped create.
Fear not, I'm accustomed to the enduring pain.
You learn to live with the innermost scars;
the ones that just can't seem to heal.
I try to see the clarity through all the cracks
that my vision is afflicted with,
but there are those days that all hell breaks loose,
and I feel six feet under, suffocating
from the pressure of the burdens I carry.
I try to dig out of this mental confinement,
as if there is some sort of hope awaiting,
but upon the other side, the only thing that's calling
is another scar that's been waiting patiently,
eagerly waiting for me to sign another contract.
In exchange for temporary freedom, I accept the pain.
What else must I do? What else can I do?
I need some sort of loophole; an escape route.
The bitter realization is no one knows my world,
they don't understand all the weight I carry so "effortlessly."
The truth of the matter is I'm sinking,
and the captain always goes down with the ship.
Apr 2017 · 510
Nathan Young Apr 2017
I give off the impression that I do not feel.
A facade so deeply rooted, I'm an enigma to most,
but what people don't see is the heart steeled.
Dented armor, sure, but I'll have to make do.

To look at cracked asphalt, one thing remains clear.
It may be missing pieces, it may show signs of wear and tear,
but throughout the years of life's tires steer,
the asphalt still serves its intended purpose.

Optimists and Pessimists bicker over half empty or half full.
This is often the argument over a simple glass of water.
The realist, however, exclaims "It's just a ******* glass!"
All the while the poet thinks, it represents me.

There's a certain emptiness and fullness in us all,
each contributing to the characteristics of our inner selves,
thus leading to the rise and fall of our mental walls.
The underlying question is what to build and what to break.

These dents in my armor, the asphaltic cracks in my life,
the constant struggle of my own glass of water,
I'll wear them all with pride if I have to.
I'm not that man I once knew; I am me.
Mar 2017 · 310
End of Days
Nathan Young Mar 2017
Why must you be so overly critical of my actions?
Ever since I opened my eyes, it's been struggle after struggle.
I call you out on your implications hence your retractions,
but can't you see that all it causes is fractions
in the connection we once had.
I've busted my *** to get where I'm at in life,
but no, apparently it just isn't ******* enough.
Go ahead, locate my heart and bury the knife.
I want you to see what it looks like
when you hold my well-being in strife.

Looking for a reason to not live in vain,
I turn my head, unsure of circumstances.
Finding no solace in surroundings, embracing the pain.
Pulsing veins, knees sprained, wrists chained.
What the **** happened to progress?

A web of possibilities, yeah, that's how my brain operates.
I'll second guess what to say at every chance I get.
You best believe I weigh in my options, it accumulates.
Peace and war negotiate, but the rates of casualties
just piles up. War always resonates
so let me show you just how my anger circulates,
through every fiber of my being, it radiates
through the bloodstream with every heartbeat.
Let me educate you with what I can do.
You'll regret escalating and immolating the fury that awaits.

Looking for a reason to not live in vain,
I recollect thoughts as if its my only life-line.
Finding no solace in memories, embracing the pain.
Mind far from sane, blood cells rain, strength wanes.
What the **** happened to love?

You always pushed me to the ends of the world.
I tried to give you the life you always dreamt of.
It's true, I wanted every one of your fingers to be pearled,
but we both know how that went, yeah,
you bent, twisted, and ripped me to shreds.
My saving grace was a noose that held me by mere threads
and yeah, it does feel like I'm living in vain,
as if Death signed my contract to be slain,
saying, "Welcome! You'll soon have a new permanent residence!"
I prefer to travel, so it's only fitting to go by train.

...but is this how I want to end my story?
can I outwit and commit to change?
This is unfamiliar territory and I'm scared.
Please transmit and emit some sort of new signal.
A bulb doesn't have to be omit from being lit.
Jan 2017 · 569
Nathan Young Jan 2017
The more I learn about myself, life, and all its possibilities,
contrasting trails form with each step I take.
Large or small, a choice convolutes my predetermined path.
My decisions have taken me to an unfamiliar wood,
but that's not necessarily a bad thing.

I see the already established, but with a twist of peculiarity.
The sounds of birds chirping is known, but it's a foreign flock.
Leaves on trees still rustle in the wind,  but it's the color that's perplexing.
Deep breath. Take it all in. Embrace the change.
I'm not lost or forgotten, it's just a new setting.

If I was lost in seemingly a no man's land, then why am I not afraid?
I see the familiarity within the unfamiliar.
I notice the similarities of my position from wisdom granted.
Despite it all, I'm still smiling, still moving forward.
Crunching of leaves, the snap of a twig, I keep stepping.

If Life's ink is forever dried, there would be no astonishment or bewilderment.
There is no clear path in how you live. Each road will split
and from each split, those routes will divide.
From those routes, avenues of thought will unbind.
You will soon learn that you will never fully grasp your destination.

I may be a man of many, but I'll keep walking.
In the sun, in the rain, in snow, and the fog.
Through forests, deserts, and oceans.
I set sail for certain ambiguity and unpredictable expectancies.
An eager to live, and a lust for adventure.
"Thought is the wind, knowledge the sail, and mankind the vessel." - Augustus Hare
Oct 2016 · 390
N. Young
Nathan Young Oct 2016
Insert some metaphor of nature relating to emotion.
Imply the severity of said situation through imagery.
Apply depth to your cause for said poem.
If you're feeling rather exquisite, form a rhyming pattern.
Congrats, you're now a poet.

I'm just going to skip the ******* and get right to the point:
I've been feeling rather numb towards life.
Whenever I put one foot forward, I'm met with taking two steps back.
With each back-step, it's becoming harder to see the light.
School questions whether I have hit an intelligence ceiling or not.
My partner is off, working on her own life.
Friends aren't around when I hit the peak of an insecure moment.
Parents can't comprehend the gap between our generations.
So, what am I left with?
Sure, I could do drugs, but I much prefer the devil's juice.
At this point I don't know if I drink too much or too little.
I admit, I admit, being drunk is when I'm at my happiest.
To forget the hauntings of stress, gives me an ******* sense of joy.
I keep searching for an answer if it's all worth it.
That's the one thing that drives me through all the hell-fire.
I haven't found it.
I long to know if there is some redeeming quality in me.
Am I worth it? Am I worth living?

There you have it, folks.
This is me. This is the real me.
Aug 2016 · 349
The Way
Nathan Young Aug 2016
Was I supposed to veer left at the fork in the road
or should I continue with here I tread?
So much confusion from the signs I read.
Is it too late to find my way?

I long to be home, finding comfort next to the fire.
It is winter and the air is bone-chilling;
memoirs of love being my last inner killing.
Please, Frost, help me find a way!

It's not too late! It's not too late!
Branches scrape as the dead oaks howl.
Fear is the new survival, reality now foul.
I cannot seem to find the path.

Minutes felt like hours, days felt like years,
and memories of a home soon began to fade away.
It was the fear and doubt that led me astray.
I don't think I can make it..

My legs collapse and the pile of snow welcomes me.
With a final look, I see a flickering, dim light.
Home! I crawl frantically through blightful white.
The light flickers desperately...then, night.

*I guess I was too late
Jun 2016 · 410
Nathan Young Jun 2016
We're not on the same frequency
and we're not on the same page of ideologies.
We cannot embrace at a lover's parallel
for that would require compromised methodologies.

We're not equal; we haven't been for some time.
To be viewed as VIP like you, would be stellar,
but to be tangible, it lusts for a certain desire
and I yearn to be more than just a cellar dweller.

We're not exposed in the same ray of life's sunlight.
Shunned away in a rotting shadow, you radiate perfection.
I plead for the warmth, for some sort of direction, and of your affection.
You're too busy dancing  in the fields, oblivious of your rejections.

If we could just be on the same wavelength,
or perhaps bookmarked on the chapter of  compromise,
we could reignite the spark we once had,
so that maybe some day, I too, may see the sunrise.
Mar 2016 · 479
Nathan Young Mar 2016
I was brought up on the notion of doing something great;
that I was supposed to end world hunger or cure cancer..or some ****.
Perhaps those are just imaginary fallacies.
I was raised to accomplish and thus, become an accomplishment.
Now, I feel that this one task is just too much to bear.
What if I was meant to live a simple, ordinary life?

My shoulders screech from the various worlds I hold.
They long for a massage and to be told, "rest now."
How many boulders must it take to finally break?
My fleshy tendons fissure while the skin cracks.
I can keep this up..keep isn't over.
The job's now over until it says it is...or until I'm dead.

The body weighs heavily with an encumbering density.
Pressure so deep, my mind sinks within its darkest trenches.
"Hi, how are you?" "What's new with you?"
For a moment, a life preserver seems plausible,
but I answer with superficial certainty, one would call grace.
We both know how to answer those questions: We lie.

My life's been thrusted with expectations and goals.
I belittle my success and self-harm with failures.
Overly critical and never satisfied.
Notice me...notice me, please. I'm drowning!
Only then do we know that life's not fair.
Save me! Rescue me, with a breath of fresh air!
Oct 2015 · 1.3k
Breaking Monogamy
Nathan Young Oct 2015
You have boys breaking all kinds of tender hearts
and you have hoes cheating on loyal men.
I try to make sense of this world and these 'customs,'
yet I seem to be lost on square one over and over again.

Living in this day and age is a constant game of cat and mouse,
filled with deceit, mistrust, and no respect.
What the hell happened to an unfaltering love for monogamy?
You walking scandals, tell me what the mirror'll reflect.

With all these social distortions we're afflicted with,
it's hard to tell where you fit in the spectrum.
You say cheating is simply a black and white absolute, so
in that moment, are you going to be the victim or the venom?

Paranoia thus is born and all that you worked hard for
seems to just dissipate, and you can't cope with your spouse.
Media *** scandals reinforce distrust to loved ones,
the heart is no longer a home, but just another empty house.

This is how the younger generation lives,
constant fear what could happen and they close all doors,
you're either hurting or will be hurt,
so you steel your heart since all you see are ******.
Jun 2015 · 443
For Whom the Bell Tolls
Nathan Young Jun 2015
How dreary it feels, knowing you sit alone in a room
where the blinds stow away the reality outside the pane.
There you sit, behind an LCD screen, typing your wildest fallacies.
Then the shadows beckon to close eyes; a dreamful feign.

You resist, desperate to form a connection to someone,
but met with, "You have reached the voicemail box of.."
No texts. No callbacks. Facebook ending with just "seen".
All alone, retreating to the innermost melancholic thoughts above.

Hours turn into days and days turn to weeks.
You plot your escape route with no strings attached.
You're scared, but hold steady with an iron facade,
wistful, that a final solution has thus been hatched.

In those final minutes, when the white candies hit,
and there's no turning back to being alive and sober,
you shudder and slowly close the bloodied eyes,
knowing that the last battle, is finally over.
Mar 2015 · 818
Restless Stress
Nathan Young Mar 2015
I lay in a bed that is too warm,
while the inner wind is too cold
and the sounds of rain, echo through my ears.
I lay here, adding up my worst fears.

I have stress gnawing on my fibers
and a cancerous depression leaking through my body.
I bury my face into the firm pillow,
serenaded by sorrow's solemn fiddle.

I'm unsure what to do: to scream or to cry.
I'm running on fumes, too empty to decide.
I think often, but I find no release.
The silence, apart from the rain, is closest to peace.

What hath thy wrought?
I cannot understand what or how to feel.
I'll toss and I'll turn in utter frustration,
knowing that I lack the answers to my deep contemplation.

You may question if you be so bold,
but the answers I've given have already been told.
So, now I lay, in my uncertain blight,
hoping for another chance towards that beacon of light.
Feb 2015 · 518
Words Can't Fix Everything
Nathan Young Feb 2015
Things aren't the same as they once were.
Perverted, our connection, you and I
due to the nature of an incident I procurred.
I miss the endless adoration once pure,
now muddled with a **** up and a "bottom's up!"
I raised the glasses, the bottles, the steins,
witholding truth, I ended with a bolsterous hiccup.
I laid in bed that night, in a drunken stupor,
covering my cold body with a sheet that lied,
hoping to move past so I shan't become part of a looper.
Alas, all was finally revealed and I to blame.
A fool to follow the masses, I couldn't find my own ground.
I should've fought harder, but now, I only feel shame.
I tried to embrace for that's all I knew what to do,
She shoved me into a wall, tears trickle down her face,
And all those barriers that I once broke down,
are now being rebuilt in what feels like the original place.

I don't know what to do.
I've lost all the trust.
Actions over words, she says.
Hit, Stay, or Bust.
I'm trying, lord knows I'm trying,
but in the dead of night,
when no one can hear,
I sit in the bathroom,
failing at holding back all those tears.
"I'm sorry, babe, I'm sorry."
Those words mean nothing now.
Words. Can't. Fix. Everything!

She loves me, which is why she stayed,
giving me a chance to fix the error of my ways.
She musters a smile, but I know that heart of hers is frayed,
but I'll find a way to prove to her that I am what I say:
The man she fell in love with, built on promises of old,
And if I may be so bold when I say, that I promise
our little sweet peas, will learn from this story and uphold,
the honor I had to fight for, and the lesson I had to be told.
I am truly sorry my love.
Jan 2015 · 690
Love her dearest
Nathan Young Jan 2015
I love my woman very dearly.
Sincerely. Purely. Weirdly.
It was once an absurd notion
that such love was a nonexistent commotion.
Still, I find comfort and clarity,
shown through loyalty and trust fairly.

How grey life seems to feel when she not by my side.
Stride back and forth, fingers tapping on wood, the time abides.
When shall I permit this paranoia to subside?
I'll wait. Wait until that smile arrives.

She's loud, but very soft.
With a beautiful body like Lara Croft.
And her mind, oh her mind is such a surreal place,
That even the most detailed star charts couldn't attempt to trace.

I'll lay in bed, thinking of you nestled in my arms,
protecting you from all sources of harm,
kissing your forehead like there's no tomorrow,
shielding your thoughts from all possible sorrow.

I'm always going to want to be hand in hand,
and let all those lustful ones who try to sway, be ******,
because I'll love you infinitely as much as sand.
Jan 2015 · 468
Nathan Young Jan 2015
I sit here in a computer chair,
staring at a screen whom I have no desire to gaze upon.
Question me, please.
I long for the desire to communicate.
A thin line with what is real and what I want to be real.
Steal these thoughts and fortify my heart.

It only takes five minutes in exchange
for carcinogens to take refuge in me.
Rational thought. Calmness. Ease.
I aim to quit, but pilgrimages are often brutal.
End this addiction, it's time.
My lungs cannot breathe through the ash.

346 days. 8304 hours. 498240 minutes.
It's almost been a year since our birth.
I envision her smile hourly. It's intoxicating.
Her skin is that of silk. Her embraces are true
with eyes breaking all of my composure.

I haven't bled in a long time and I miss it.
The crimson water that I excrete
is a sign that I'm still living. breathing. existing.
Only then will I feel real pain; A pain I once felt long ago.
I must remember, to look back and see how far I've come.

I've burnt bridges, toppled mental empires, used people,
let people use me, let rage consume, let depression drown,
and let the emptiness encompass my insides.
Every struggle has led up to this.
So, tell me I am not human..

I'd like to see you try and mean it.
Nov 2014 · 1.1k
Nathan Young Nov 2014
Cars drive through Lemon street like dogs chasing cats.
A pursuit of some sort; higher education or 40 hours a week.
We have grown so accustomed to this definition of us,
But I wonder if they notice that we're categorized weak.

Look back to a time when you had no shackles.
No titles. No labels. No superiority or inferiority.
I cannot remember a time either.
Such is the nature of disparity through lack of sincerity.

Blue collar or white collar, which will you choose?
"Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains."
You consider yourself an eventual winner, but you still lose;
Something you'll never recreate or revive.

This realization has been planted, imminent fruition.
Question everything, what is it that you want?
That answer will lead to your potential solution
And thus the pilgrimage shall begin.

So, I sit on my concrete plateau overlooking Lemon Street,
Watching the cars passerby from point A to B,
Contemplating if I may find a third path,
Shivering at the acceptance of a future unknown to me.
Nathan Young Nov 2014
Aura abound, encircling brood.
Nothingness and everything,
the void is crude.
Dangling ley-lines like nimble string.
What power dost thou string bring?

Master of shadow and flame
and creatures beyond mortal plane,
stealing souls from bodies he's claimed.
Back to the Nether he hides,
twiddling his thumbs, time abides.

Body seems frail, but the heart anew.
Foolishly, he knows your eyes deceive you,
and he waits for the battle to finally ensue.
You can run, sure, but he will pursue,
because your fleeting soul is long overdue.
Aug 2014 · 378
Ash and Dust
Nathan Young Aug 2014
I gave her a lighter when I told her I'd quit,
but the feeling of death was loving I admit.
So I told her it was over, guess that was a lie,
still filling my lungs with ash, letting them cry

She was heartbroken, but her spirit resolved,
persuading the killer to stop being involved.
I never lit one up in front of those loving eyes,
ashamed of losing out on my greatest prize.

Weeks turned into months, I began to feel weaker,
Lord knows that her concern grew steeper.
Endless coughs broke the silenced night,
But I lit another one up just to spite.

I saw that worried look on her face
and I missed the smile that once took place.
I looked deep inside my own reflection,
realizing the grim future of this toxic infection.

Lit one up then blew it out,
The road to freedom now en route.
She held me close and held me tight
Content that this was the end to her fright.
I love you, Priscilla. My little dweeb <3
Aug 2014 · 381
Train of Dreams
Nathan Young Aug 2014
Train of dreams, where do you lead?
Slumbering visions, I do not see.
A future guided by uncertainty
Clouded clarity, oxymoronic ambiguity

A set path banded by wood and steel
Is this what I'm reduced to?
Lockbox of emotions that which I feel
Shades of gray, gloom pupil hue.

Can I not change this fate?
Going from point A to B,
The heart dislikes, becoming irate.
Mind throwing a mutiny, a firm decree.

Destiny is truly a funny thing.
You can always build a new rail
You're your own conscious being,
So your train shall never derail.
Aug 2014 · 283
Nathan Young Aug 2014
I want you to look to your left and then to your right.
I want you to introduce yourself to one person with your name.
Then, I want you to carry on with what you were doing previously.

You merely know that person's name.
You know nothing of their health, mentality, sexuality, goals, or problems.
Ask yourself: did you even consider any of this?
We're all so self-absorbed that we don't give a ****
about what others go through for it's not linked to us.
The few times we do shed some attention to another being
is filled with nothing, but blind, ignorant hate.
We are all human beings so then why decide to judge one another?
Who put you on an almighty pedestal to pass judgment
on someone whom you know nothing about;
Their pain, their struggles, their story.
You'd rather take the time to attack one another
than to contemplate what two sides of a coin really mean.
We are all equal and it's about **** time we reflect this image.
No more of this petty arrogance, it's done; abolished.

Look again to your left and then to your right
and once again, introduce yourself with your name.
Take to heart the words that I have spoken
and the rest is up to you.
Jul 2014 · 773
Wanderer of the Ages
Nathan Young Jul 2014
Wanderer with no name, intentions deemed unclear.
A purpose in life, near impossible to satisfy;
To stand tall amongst peers,
To wipe those faltered tears
and above all, find solace in all fears.

This drifter long forgot his name,
so dead set on his goal,
he locked away all inner conflicts,
forbidding the pleasures of being human that
even a ditch digger couldn't dig a bigger hole.

The Wanderer must be a beacon of hope
for those not strong to bear their weight,
he chose this selfless fate,
fully knowing no one else should,
but rather understanding he could.

To those who have cracked under pain:
blood, tears, mascara, any stain,
know that this drifter is coming for you
to pick you up off the dirt with a simple hand
and carrying you where you used to stand.

There will come a time when this drifter
shall sit down and tackle his own fears,
but in a world that needs guidance,
he cannot afford to lose sight
on ending the darkness with his light.

Wanderer, remember who you were and who you are.
For you have traveled for so long and so far.
Remove those dusty boots by the hearth and lay down
because your own name still has yet to be found.
Jul 2014 · 435
Rise and Fall
Nathan Young Jul 2014
Try to imagine what life would be like if love didn't exist.
Tender touches, long hugs, eternal hand-holding, or even just a kiss;
They'd all be gone from our conscious minds
and logic would rule decisions of all kind.
Thus, the age of self-satisfaction begins
while love viewed as trash is thrown into bins.

This is the life in which you live; a reality so cold
that you don't have the guts or ideals to be bold
and you sit there, putting your whole life on hold,
clinging to an impossible dream, denying the ability to grow
and those immense feelings you have for Jane or John Doe
slip through the seams as your heart has failed to be sewn.

It's a Valentine's Day raffle and you weren't chosen,
but instead of your battery being frozen,
you decided you'd rather face corrosion;
the last bit of your spark facing a slowly-decaying implosion.
"To Hell with it," you said.
What little is left with your humanity, now dead.

Forgotten morals, meaningless principles.
Narcissistic vibe now in plain sight; visible.
What you once were was categorized by being fictional
and now you feel like you're invincible
when women or men flock to you, keeping you at your pinnacle
and you know that your sick, heinous acts are unforgivable,
but the thought of you actually caring is purely unthinkable.

This is the time of our degeneration.
Of desperation, of flirtation,
of admiration, and *******.
Jun 2014 · 440
Nathan Young Jun 2014
Give me one reason as to why I
should trust your scummy vibe.
Meaningless goodbyes
or empty-induced "hi"'s.
See, I've been there,
but I'm way too ****** a person to care.
Fare thee well, Banshee!
Shackles no more, finally free.
Dried blood upon my limbs,
but I still sing these hymns,
proclaiming serenity,
intentionally, confidently.
You are nothing without me.
Don't you see?
I have grown without you,
crippled, but learning too.
That's the main difference:
Enjoy your penance.
Enjoy your damnation
of my non-existent retaliation.
Attention? I think not
because I've thought
not to be caught;
a secret self-taught.
Jun 2014 · 1.0k
Slick Bitch
Nathan Young Jun 2014
So let me get this straight: you wish to be desired and get respect,
but hey, your personality is that of your looks that which reflects.
Yeah, and let me just further state:
I hope your future has one sick grim fate.

Slick *****, don't care.
No point tryin' repair.
Slick *****, don't care.
No point tryin' to repair.

because let's be honest: your *** deserves ******* nothing.
I can't believe I even fathomed at one point you were something.
Slug once said that he's the captain of a sinking ship
and now, I finally get it. I've got nothing left to lose
because at this point, I've already been used and abused.

Slick *****, don't care.
Pain is something I must bear
Slick *****, don't care.
Anger is something I must bear

You're ******* toxic. Nuclear waste to be exact
and as a matter of fact: **** the goody two shoes act.
We all realize that you're being fake
Now, just how long will this take?

Slick *****, don't care
I'll rise above you though, I swear.
Slick *****, don't care.
I'll rise above you though, I swear.

You may have stripped me down to a **** man,
doesn't matter for I still stand,
resilient and proud to prove your *** wrong
because I sing this song and I walk that walk
proving to myself that I am that strong.
So this was my first official attempt at writing a song. Enjoy, friends!
Jun 2014 · 352
Revelation I
Nathan Young Jun 2014
It always depresses me
to observe those who shun
the confines of their character.
They continue to be enslaved.

They seem to only live half a life.
To hide in elusive shadows,
with fear guiding slaves by the reins
to eternal paranoia.

Their pride is what refuses
any sort of helping hand.
It's as if they seek for
a glorified self-destruction.

Their desire to be free
is only a wistful dream.
A cruel game of window shopping
within their warped mind.

These creatures always intrigued me,
who shun themselves and those who care.
A desire to be true to oneself
Yet, make no effort to change.
Jun 2014 · 328
Revelation II
Nathan Young Jun 2014
Glimmering stars, slowly fade.
They do not doubt
their inevitable fate.
A light piercing darkness;
Our beacon of hope when
life seems too hard to bear.

Why call out to the stars?
Their fate is inescapable
yet, their selflessness is key
to our feeling of comfort.
They listen to our broken voices
with pure, unbiased judgment.

I observe with entranced eyes
of that dying fire whose
only mission is to spread hope
to those who are inflicted with despair.
I envy you, Stars.
You're what I aspire to be.
Jun 2014 · 265
Revelation III
Nathan Young Jun 2014
It's now apparent that I hardly sleep.
Perhaps too many thoughts racing
or subconsciously, I'm plagued by nightmares.
Either way, I suffer every night.

Could it be that interest in a certain someone?
Her mind is purely intoxicating to say the least
and I spend many an hour in exchange for conversations.
I do not and shall not regret this trade though
for in my eyes, it's definitely worth it.

Maybe it's my doubt in the ability to transcend
through school and achieving my professional dream.
It's entirely possible that I worry too much,
but it's in my personality with such matters,
however important or trivial.

The times I do allow myself some sleep,
I succumb to pure darkness.
Often, I fear that I'll never find a way out;
The light at the end of the tunnel.
Daily, it becomes harder to escape.

Nightmares in form are twisted.
They corrupt the very fabric of your well-being.
That being said, how ill am I?
I wonder if my light still exists.
If so, please shine, do not just glimmer.

Thoughts swirling with hope
while nightmares brood in doubt.
This is my mind in a nutshell;
A brutal, unforgiving battlefront.
May 2014 · 522
Ace in the Hole
Nathan Young May 2014
I'm dying very soon
and I can't wait.
This world I know,
doomed by fate.

I can hardly breathe,
choking on life.
The ash seethes.
Light up another one.

War-drums echo the sky.
A ringing in the ears.
Paranoia stricken,
the sum of all fears

One Lethal injection
or suicidal introspection.
Over -Zealous protection.
Perhaps loss of affection.

Fragments of reality
alluding to my soul.
I've found a solution;
My Ace in the Hole.
Zack Hemsey - The Way
May 2014 · 1.3k
Nathan Young May 2014
The man's blood sprayed all over the walls
as his corpse fell with a thunderous thud.
The spectacle has been replayed thousands of times.

Last night I witnessed a suicide
and a realization has been born
that I can't save everyone.
This upsets me a great deal
as I aspired to be a Superman;
A protector of the world,
but I failed at my task.

The world knows I should hang my cape.
To be done with this impossible dream
would be the wise thing to do,
but I hold it in my hands,
wondering who else would bear this weight.
If no one, then I must continue
and with every challenge I face,
regardless of outcomes,
I shall be even moreso stricken
than my previous endeavors.
These are the sacrifices I have to make
for the good of the public interest.
I can't afford to think of myself
because at the end of the day,
my well-being will never even matter.
May 2014 · 336
Lonesome Road
Nathan Young May 2014
A bittersweet night such as this;
is a testament to my remembrance.
The stillness of the air
brings about old habits dying hard.

The neon signs once sparked life.
Now, can only muster a flicker.
I roam these down-trodden streets,
murky water staining my boots.

Echoes of the past encompass,
judging my unorthodox steps.
I still feel the burning sensation
that has taken refuge in my throat.

I haven't the faintest idea as to why I'm here.
Perhaps I must belong here?
A dying street for a washed-up man.
The grim realization has taken its toll:

I was once everything and now nothing;
my own identity stripped from me.
Ethereal currents, cast me away,
for I'm the shadow of a man I once knew.
Nathan Young May 2014
In the Valley of Death, I roam
Infinite Sins I must atone.
Battle-scarred and heaving,
Shadows behind me, creeping

For all is lost, but not forgotten.
A humanity that was once begotten.
Sadly, empty now; a mere shell.
A war rages inside that reeks of Hell.

Remorsefully, I cull the meek
to find that which I do so seek.
A kiss from those ruby rose lips.
pupils brighten, bearing an eclipse.

Confidently, I shall reclaim my throne
as I feel my heart becoming sewn,
but I must last through the night.
Hope conceived amongst stars shine bright.

Impossible which I once thought,
I have found what I have sought.
Content with my endeavors,
Shall we step into our forever?
May 2014 · 394
It's just good business
Nathan Young May 2014
I see you standing there,
Pristine and sharp.
With your straight black tie and tucked-in shirt;
perfection at its apparent finest.

Our worlds are so much alike.
At times I wish we could switch,
but alas I cannot take part in that fantasy
for I see those stains you attempt to cover so slyly.

A devious smile is all it takes
to prove to those that you're happy.
Such a lie that I'm accustomed to;
a former master of such a sin.

Underneath all your smudges and cracks,
you're just a reflection of what I could possibly be
Your "happiness" will only last for so long,
Until you shatter from within

I have accepted my faults, can I say the same for you?
While you just smile in that suit of yours,
In a superficial world of so called perfection,
I stand here, watching you slowly crumble
and knowing that I'm better than you.
Apr 2014 · 736
A much simpler time
Nathan Young Apr 2014
Do you remember when imagination
Ran rampant and tree houses became castles
Or the garage floor was boiling lava?
Our own little world within a much bigger one.
We were so absorbed in our own bliss that
We unknowingly sheltered ourselves from a reality
That all adults suffered through

Do you remember when you used to build legos?
An obsession with building a spaceship
To soar high above everyone and anything else.
You would show mommy your art and she'd be so impressed
And soon after, you'd be back in the lab,
Trying to surpass your previous creation
In an attempt to gain mommy's love.

Do you remember when you went camping?
We would lay in tents on the cold, hard earth
And stare off into the starry sky until serenity
Would cradle us off into slumber or the time
When your brothers/sisters kept being rambunctious,
Fighting and screaming, so much to the point where
Daddy threatened to take us all home and call it quits

Do you remember when you grew up?
You finally became the young man/woman your parents
Raised you to be for all those years.
It's time you join that reality that you so easily
Sheltered yourself from, but now caught up to you.
Reality can be a scary thing you thought to yourself
But you knew you couldn't hide from it.

School, work and sleep now rules your life.
Throw a newborn into the mix and
you've now officially joined the real world.
A world in which takes all that you give
And you don't think twice about asking.
You spend hours a day, working,
but do you remember the last time you were happy?

Just remember the little things in life and don't let adulthood swallow you whole.
Mar 2014 · 427
Lesson Learned from Morrie
Nathan Young Mar 2014
It's become apparent that I accept
death as it's inevitable. Now, don't
confuse my acceptance of it with asking to
be marked with my personal ending.
If death has marked itself upon me, I
can truly say that I have lived a great
life. I'm sure you're asking as to how
I've lived a great life in such a short
span of time.

I've over come a lot of personal
obstacles; challenges that I have
never expected to accomplish. I've
risen against depression that
plagued me for years. I've opened
up to others for I realize I need my
friends just as much as they need
me. Last, but not least, I've
conquered my fear of conveying my
emotions that used to be trapped in
an infernal prison deep inside the confines
of my mind. These three obstacles
hindered me in the highest caliber
in regards to living a great life.

So yes, I accept death and I do
welcome it in open arms when it
extends its eventual invitation
because deep down, I'm content
with how everything has fallen
into place within my life. In the
end, when you learn how to die,
you learn how to live.
Mar 2014 · 866
Michael Smith
Nathan Young Mar 2014
Michael was a teenager who made straight A's
and participated in any sport he could,
but Michael was flamed for being gay
for society deemed he should.

Michael didn't seem to have any friends
for all were repulsed by him,
simply because of the way he bends,
And thus, his happiness dimmed.

When Michael gets home, it's straight to his room.
His father a drunk, his mother out of state,
giving birth to a constant loop of daily doom
So you could say things weren't that great.

Michael was beaten daily, for why he knew not.
Mr. Smith always began by lifting his hand,
stating these bruises were a lesson to be taught
and confused Michael couldn't take a stand.

If one person could've stood up and been kind,
Michael might still be here.
Instead, one dark thought stole his mind
and with it, all of his fears.
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