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.

I was poking a piece of paper with a pen out of sheer boredom.
Thus, a rough sketch of a heart was born
by a simple series of ink blots with repetition.
Then I thought: why did I do that?
At first glance, it was just a random assortment
of ink spots that seemingly have no meaning,
but as it catches my eye every now and then,
I realize it has seduced every nerve in my brain.
I figuratively try to imagine what my mind
looks like, but all I see is an enveloping mist
that my subconscious has sent forth
in an attempt to end my pervasiveness;
to uncover what I deem as truth.
Although, I can tell that the more I try to understand
why my subconscious is doing this,
the thinner this metaphorical blockage becomes.

I can see a silhouette of a person, a woman to be exact.
Her feminine figure exhibiting serenity in it's rawest form,
down to even the smallest of details.
Dare I approach this woman to uncover the secrets she holds
Or should I stand here, jaw agape, as I stand in awe?
Perhaps I may do both.

Please body, grant me the courage to move.
The longer I wait, the chance of her fading increases
and frankly, I do not wish for this to occur.
I feel that every step I make closer to her,
The stiffness of this paralysis only grows exponentially.
Curse these infernal bonds, I cast off these chains,
but it appears it's too late for now,
This apparition is approaching me.

In the beginning we made small talk, but I have to say,
those itty-bitty conversations were worth it.
They manifested into an array of discussions,
portraying our various ideals and goals;
It laid down our foundation,
but what really caught my attention
was the wisdom you so blissfully displayed.
It wasn't forceful in the slightest, but
rather all natural. My infatuation grew.

A dimly lit courtyard.
Flavored tobacco up in the air.

A table amongst friends.
Their chatter all tuned out.

A shoulder to lay on.
Causation of drug induced slumber.

Upon mountains high.
Walkers of the sky.

Ocean of lights below.
Hands clasp tight.

Still night in the park.
No more second guessing.

Gliding across ice.
Cancerous sin now ended.

Sleep tight, together now.
A kiss upon the forehead.

Okay?
Okay.

The longer I continue with this addicting contemplation,
a greater feeling of soothing realization
conquers this brooding mist and I feel uplifted.
There is one thing comes to mind:
I cannot stop adoring you.

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.

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.

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

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 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 going..work 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!

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 ******.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Might I partake? I do say I shall help
myself to these delicious treats.
That is, the misfortune of others.
Alas, I cannot hold back in general
for they are addicting. I prey
on the weak for they are
the juiciest. My glands have been
salivating for far too long
and I feel that what little self-control
I have left shall be consumed
by this overwhelming desire
of feasting off others' unhappiness.
True, it is callous of myself to divulge in
such travesties that do not require
my presence, but I ask myself: why not?
It seems only fitting to devour that which brings joy.
Clasping my hands followed by a devious smile,
I shall hunt for these misfortunes, hoping to wither
someone down until they're nothing
more than an empty shell.

Oh no!
I'm stuck here
behind this lovely stand.
Dare I sit here
or should I attempt
to make social interaction?
I don't know though...
It seems rather taxing
to make an effort to engage
with someone whom I know
literally nothing about,
but isn't that what
you're supposed to do?
Decisions, decisions...
It seems like such a
simple thing. The choice
seems so blatantly obvious.
True, I could use some friends,
but who is to say
they'd still be there
after my darkest of days.
That is a chance I'm not
willing to take.
The opportunity cost of my
time is too high to
make the effort to talk
to a random individual.
The phrase, "Oh well," comes to mind.
My, my, what a predicament.
Uncertainty is a corrupting
influence that plagues us all
to stop us from doing the things
we all love.
So, should I stop this or let it run
its ****** course?
I think it's safe to say
who has won.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

If I told you a secret, what would you do with it?
Would you sit there, pondering with your inner thoughts
or would you journey far and wide to proclaim it?
Perhaps to put it simply, would you accept or reject it?
Alas, my mind is constantly jumbled up
because I honestly don't know where to begin.

That night we laid together, I felt a euphoric wholeness;
a feeling that even I'm not accustomed to
and in that instance, time seemed to stop.
I didn't want you to leave and you best believe
I didn't want to stop holding you.

I don't think I've ever had an affection this pristine
for I've only ever conceived it in my dreams
and daily, this feeling becomes more unraveled by its seams.

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.

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.

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.

Flies buzz around the still room
like dogs chasing cars.
An old crone is heard nagging beyond the door,
"Don't you think you're leaving to one of them bars!"

Light hasn't entered the room in days;
the dark green curtains have all been closed.
The old lady began banging against the wood,
"You still need to clip my toes!"

The room reeked of cigarette smell.
A half-burnt one existed within the ash tray.
Weeping could be heard from the other side.
"Honey, open up. Don't leave me astray.."

Next to the lime-green chair where he lay,
a dried up pen could be seen leaving his hand.
One scribbled note stood out upon the lamp table.
"Can you get off your *** and fix the **** TV stand?!"

Matilda,
            I have loved you for sixty-three years, sixty of which we've been married and I wouldn't trade it for the world, but during these past couple of years, you've become heartless. You've changed and it saddens me entirely. You're not the woman I fell in love with all those years ago, but rather this ghost that preys on the misfortune of others. Maybe it was all the radiation treatment the doctors performed or perhaps the endless drugs they made you take to numb the pain, but regardless of the mental distortion you now face, I can no longer bear it. I love you, Matilda, but it breaks my heart to see you like this. I'm sorry, but this is indeed goodbye.
                                                                                                            -Henry

The soundlessness lasted for weeks
except for the one shot that ran.
Nothing living remained in that room,
ending the life of that one old man.

I breathe in the salty, cool air
as we dig our toes into the sand.
Seagulls fly overhead, squawking,
but they do not disrupt my many thoughts:

Much like the sea, she is beauty incarnate;
Ever-flowing and serene.
Crashing waves upon the rock that which
signifies a timeless resilience,
and even in the darkest depths;
where no man thinks to tread, secrets wait
to be discovered and where my journey begins

I stand before her now,
looking into those captivating eyes
and wonder for what seems an eternity
how I could've possibly been blessed
that which captures the mysticism
of the sea, but I am indeed grateful
for even that is the least I could be.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 *******.

People always say that love will find its way;
that true love will come to those who wait,
but you should know that things aren't that simple.
You can't just assume that this is a fairytale
and that Prince Charming sweeps the Princess off her feet
or a total babe finds inner beauty in an abomination.
This is reality; not some fantasy where everybody wins,
So get ready for a heavy dosage of it.

I was brought up on the notion that true determination
will always win over the woman you desired,
but boy was I ever so wrong.
There are just some instances that you will fail.
Rejection is key in order to grow, so accept it.
You can't just wallow in depression
while you wait for someone to put the pieces back.
So, you win some, you lose some.
I personally can't tell you how many times I've failed
because to be honest, it's quite a lot,
whether it be by my hand or other forces,
but I can assure you this: I keep getting back up.

As for being broken, I can say that it truly *****.
Been there twice and the recovery was not too fun either,
but there are those types of people who use this flaw
to the highest caliber in order to gain love;
a quick act of desperation to acquire this emotion.
Whoever falls for this ruse believes they can save the other,
but here's where it becomes sadistically hilarious:
that person doesn't want to be fixed or saved
because in the end, only you can really fix yourself.
Sure, someone can give you the tools necessary, but
it sure as hell doesn't mean they'll be utilized.

Finally, we get to the ****** of this adventure,
where society equates love to a game of chess,
Always trying to make the right move to win the other over,
to say the right things or make the correct actions
in order to win over the girl/boy's heart.
Who knows if you're staying true to yourself.
As long as you win that beating trophy, it's all that matters.
Get this, love isn't a simple ******* prize.
The growth and process of love is the real prize.

Love isn't just on some linear path.
It is ebb and flow; action reaction.
You cannot force it or becomes meaningless
and you cannot resist or it fades away.
Embrace it, but be humble when it reveals itself
and I'm quite certain you'll have nothing to worry.

In conclusion, this the battle of love
and yet, it only grows worse,
but if I have at least enlightened one person,
then I have succeeded in taking part
in the reclamation of what love used to be:
Simplicity.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”