Learn to love,
Yourself before
You learn to love
Somebody else

And be the love
You feel and not
The love that
You would sell

In flaw, calls change
If will remains -
In fear,
Find strength yet again

Don't reach for those
Who let the door close
You'll meet them
Once again
In the end

Find yourself,
And find the friends
Who made you,
Who you are again

Love and feel,
Or hate and repeal
But act on just
What is real

Be and let be,
Leave memory
But more importantly
Make yourself free

And none had you lost,
But all could see
None made you fall,
As did she

Rise like before,
As love does adore
The soul that would try
Just once more

Learn to love
Yourself before
You learn to love
Somebody else

Live, dont regret
Don't forget
Who you are
Ready,
Get set,
You will go far.

Did I bleed enough already?
Sandpaper mounds, rough canyons, and catawampus scars
have replaced the soft hands I once had.
Rage has given way to a sardonic subsonic sentiment.
My throat was cursed and turned to glass.
Every word spoken threatens to shatter
what holds my head to my shoulders.
Have I suffered sufficiently?
The robin in my dry rotted heart
can not fly on whiskey soaked wings.
The sin that I consume I consummate with good intention.
Am I built on dichotomy?
Eye bitten blind, my wish for a fresh beginning
is always met with un-sustainability.
Finger nails aching for the bite of flesh.
Lips ache for fiberglass and lonely blue smoke.

Undulating rotations of no matter where I go there I am.
To understand I can walk there but I can never really walk from,
Is to understand the only way to escape is to change.
Disassemble; disassociate.
Brain waves are the only ones I drown in.
Am I asking the wrong questions?
My heart houses not just birds of spring,
but fledglings of dragons that war with the dampness of my innards.
Waiting for enough tinder to start the flame that burns this shell
and would set me free.
I offer it fingers I cut from lackadaisical moments heaving with unremitting love.
Just to burn the memory of touch.
It hordes digits and I wait for the day it fills my veins with pasteurizing fire.
I ate from the blackness of repetition and habit and became so comfortable in the self destruction I can see no other way to be.
My idiosyncrasies are synchronized with the pain of constantly finding the moon and longing..
I must change.
Before my tired eyes sag and separate from my face.
Before my ribs grow tired of my heavy sighs and point inward.
Before my little robin drowns.

Soon I'll come around.