Something about you is different.
not like "oh you have changed so much",
that some how you've gotten shorter than you once were.
that in some way gravity is also beating you.
you have not physically changed that is not what I mean;
I do not talk about your emotional state.
because that is forever changing;
No one controls that.
Something about you is different.
I mean you are unique. I mean that you are special.
maybe the other things are true, but something is different.
Maybe it's just in my head, it has to be.
but I care about you differently than i care about everyone else.
Everyone else goes into a little box where they don't really have names.
I just know they exist and they know I exist.
Other than that I may talk to them or not.
and I may care about them a lot.
but only because I care about everyone, in a utopian kind of way.
This is how you are different, you have a name.
You get your own room, hotel, life, breathe, everything.
and I think you get all of these things for a few reasons, but i"ll say one.
You seem so familiar.
You seem to be a bit like me,
but luckily so much different
I care about you, because of who you are.
and that is special: you to me.

My world.
And my way of making friends.
If you can stand to get to know me,
then you already know I accept you.
That you were in my mind, my friend, after one word.
I was already willing to ask you to go to the end of the world with me.
Because I build bridges with TNT.
When I say hello and knock on your world I don't use my fist.
I don't use a hammer.
I don't use a sledge hammer.
I use one of those giant gigantic ***** that break down whole walls.
I'm tearing down this whole city of yours just to get to know you better,
because my world is an open canvas and anyone can paint my world red.
Any detail you could ever want to know is on the tip of my head.
It's not on my tongue, because my life never hides in the dark.
I will invade every crevasse of your being, if you let me.
Because to be honest I want to know everything.
You are special to me, even if I'm not special to you yet,
because to me I've already accepted you.
Since in my world you make friends by doing.
Even though you or I have just said Hi, I don't want to say goodbye.
I want to be able to see you in the future;
I want to know that everything has gone well for you.
That with my TNT bridge making skills, they jolted us into each others lives.
That after my first soft spoken words, you knew that you could trust me.
Even though we haven't met yet, since I'm still in my room right now.
And you are somewhere doing something I've made this for you.
  This will be here to let you know.
That we are already friends.

A phone call.
What a terrible invention.
They only bring depression,
If I could never receive a call again I'd be happy.
It's a constant reminder no one wants to speak to you;
Someone calling has only brought misery.
But with each glance I pray that someone knows my number;
hopefully they didn't have chubby child like fingers.
Maybe they wrote it down wrong, because we were in a rush.
Maybe I'm just under the wrong name, maybe they heard it was James, even though that sounds nothing like Michael.
Maybe just maybe my carrier is down, my phone is not working.
I'll check, nope everything is working.
Why would I ask for such a call to come to me?
When the only things I've ever been told in a phone call have brought me to tears.
Things like I think we should break up, no longer see each other, just be friends.
Being told hey this family member is sick and dying of cancer,
while I'm lucky sometimes to get that call that notifies me that someone is sick.
I get those delayed calls, how your best friend just died from a brain aneurysm.
While my second mother sounds like she may be dying as well.
I don't know if she called to say I was lucky to know she's sick, or to tell me my phone *****.
Because to be honest I hope no one knows my number.
So I'm going to keep talking to only chubby friends, so they keep messing up my number.
I may not always be in a rush, but I'll give an ink pen that spills
I'll tell them to put me under that name James and never bring it up again, so they forget.
can't do anything about my carrier, but I can do something about my phone
I don't have one, it rest with my best friend.

Grasping for straws and always heaving for some air.
When swimming in the ocean you never forget that you are swimming.
You keep on kicking and paddling without ever thinking of it;
no one whispers in your ear, "hey buddy you gotta keep going."
And that's how most of life is handled.  You just do it.
But if you think you don't want to swim anymore,
then it becomes something much more difficult.
Having to whisper lies and secrets into your own ear may keep you clear,
but every battle will be a struggle, and no side will win like they used to.
The end will be the end of most real wars neither side knowing if they won.
Both sides wishing that it never happened in the first place.
Dreaming of a place of where you both stood in the beginning.
one day you'll come to a conclusion of whether you have been defeated, or you have been defeated.
No one else will ever be able to tell you otherwise except for your other self.
When your blood soaked insides finally decide they feel too much.
When feelings turn into mush and not even a touch can bring a rush.
You'll either have to lie to yourself one more time or ask yourself the question.
Do you feel like swimming anymore?

Yesterday was the day you were born,
some 30 years ago, right?
And today was the day we celebrated!
I am tightly wound into my own life;
that I even had to mention it in YOUR poem.
That aside I'm sorry to say I didn't know yesterday was your day.
Maybe this would of made it your way one day earlier,
or maybe I would of shrugged it off like my older self.
But to be honest that's not what I want to do.
I want to let you know that I know that you deserved to be noticed.
That the day and you did not go by like the wind.
That when the words floated by my ear that yesterday was your day.
I decided I must do something!
And I'm sorry to say, but like a homeless man all I have is a little sign and some words to display.
I'll creatively explain and show that you are an important part in the world, my world.
Doing this will hopefully let you know the significance of yourself to me.
I may be the person you have always fought with.
I may be the person you have screamed the most at.
I may be the person you are the most upset with.
You may be the person that I feel awkward around.
You may be the person I don't know what to say to.
You may be the person that I under-appreciate.
but mom I love you.

When things go bad.
All I want to do is smoke!
I don't smoke, but if it can cure the problems of others then why not mine?
Everything seems to crash upon the shores of Michael;
rocking the sea and the boats abroad that mighty cruise.
Cracking the shell of a mighty tortoise that once lived forever,
while a shell-less beast like myself crumble beneath the turtle.
Choking on each breath of air as if everywhere was Beijing;
a quick mist of miasma seems to clog the senses.
Where shall I go when all I can do freeze my body,
and decline my minds wishes to haphazardly stagger forward.
Today I do not smoke, but the next day I still do not smoke!
A sink hole appears insight and possibly everyone else will wonder in;
they may find what they were seeking for in the depths, but I cannot follow.
I cannot end a smokers fate,unless I also choose to break my will.
Today I wish to smoke, but the next I will wish to live.

Can I tell you how I truly feel?
Sorry miss I would like to tell you.
That's the one thing in life I can't let you, the world know.
My eyes strain to keep my secrets,
and my body begins to tense.
Your eyes seem so bright so glossy and true blue;
your body seems so smooth that the wrinkles of life come undone.
Perfection is the example used to show what others need to do.
While someone goes to after hours on how to improve.
Taking up the time of the universe,
slowly suffocating the world of it's own oxygen,
striking down each tree with their simplicity.
Take an idea and run with it.
My eyes strain to keep my secrets;
I tell them to shush, and praise them to keep them quiet.
My body begins to tense and I squeeze it to keep it together.
Your eyes, I don't want to waste your time.
Your body should belong somewhere else.
you're the example I praise,
while I try to hang my own hat.