Today I ate some pudding
It was the yummiest of all the kinds
I would tell you the flavor, but then we'd have to debate
Knowing the specific you always want to argue
Maybe you do this to mask the reason I even told you
I understand, but today I just don't have the strength to fight
The specifics don't really matter; not right now anyway
All I wanted to tell you, and for you to know
That at least today I ate.

I keep on running, but you have never seen me run
It's so easy to tell you that I can run
It's so easy to be able to share that I have scars
That my past is not a simple one
That if I were to show you my life
You would see the simplicity that I have lived
While amongst my time alone you would just see a sitting boy
But instead the boy was running, I was running
I've always been running
Although to you it seems to be a happy existence
One of ease and always being pleased
I've never struggled to get what I want
Constantly everything has been handed to me
With that I do everything with a half grin on my face
And a chuckle behind every word
To you, you see a boy that has it all so well
He talks too much
He walks to meet so many different people
That if he were to tell you about his day he would tell you about all the people
He would tell you about their smiles
But just like them
He wouldn't tell you everything he heard behind what they said
Because just like him they are running
Maybe they are not running as fast, but they are running nonetheless
I can tell because it feels like they are screaming it right at me
And it seems like no one can notice
As I am screaming the same thing right back at them
Because when I tell them that no one stays in my life that long
They don't realize or notice what I actually mean
That I am running
I am running
I am running
I am running
So much faster than anyone else possibly could

Honestly I believe that I know what hell would be like
A place of slumbering demons
Some place that is practically empty
I bet most people would consider hell to be a place like the DMV
A long line waiting for everyone to come
Because eventually everyone has to come here
Everyone has something that holds them down
Something that constantly burns at the back of their mind
They see this as a melting ***
A steamy place of red hot flames and pointy rock for them to be impaled on
But I believe that Hell is more like the place that we are currently at
Is not one of hot flames and pointy rock, but the land we already embrace
It is one where people are already impaled
But not by demons necessarily
Maybe this is all a delusion that we live in
The devil already sent us to hell, but made it look like life
That really when you are looking you are truly blinded to your own reality
Because if you could see the evil that was going on you would already know
That possibly there are no people and more likely no angels
The truth is that you are one of those demons
You are one of those things
Thinking you could never be something like that
But in reality you are just that
Does that mean there are not lesser demons
No
There are worse terrors than yourself
But when you think back of how much more you could have done
How many were in pain
Maybe Unconsciously. Maybe unknowingly. You ignored them
Just know that not trying
Can be as bad as doing.

Merry Christmas. Today your present is this smile I hold true
This is the best I can do for you
Behind this I hold the very honest truth that I must carry
I will bury the burden of what the truth carries; inside myself
Maybe this is the day you celebrate
To me this is the day I carry the heaviest weights
Amongst the worlds that I carry, today, gravity kicks in
My body screams and aches more than hopefully you will ever know
The seams of my scars begin to rip to wider tides
I press and hold them close
Letting the sea reap it's stains inside these veins
Gushingly I take on the mighty sea for all my own
As restlessly stirring within my being
Shuttling off the shakes as my mind wonders to the heaviest place
The pain of this holiday is the true horror that no one could believe
Behind each gift is another anchor to tie my mind down
Behind each "Merry Christmas" is another 2 tons to my darkest depth
The weight that you can never come to know
The nightmare called Christmas that can never be spoken
I bare burden to the past
As each year builds its own cask
I no longer know the joyfulness of this holiday
This does not mean I will take away this day
Never will I load this onto whom I know
Today is your day
Today is your holiday
Today is Merry Christmas

War torn world
A battlefield that tears us from the soul
While we wander the wasteland we were only unlucky people
Consciously stepping through the uneven lands
Some new world never known to exist before
Crept ever so slowly wondering when it will come
The war was never one that you thought it would be
Possibly it was first thought that you would win
Simply seeking the way out of all the misery
Clinging onto the hope that it would be like you thought
Sadly the battle never turns
Never do the tides turn from the murky reds
Forever the land will bleed
Being stained with the wounds of hate and disgust
Those small moments of where the war does not shine through
Are the false moments of hope that victory may come near
Blindly ignoring the booms and blast echoing behind all the smoke
We both solemnly prayed for it all to end
Then one day it did
No one won
Only Defeat

Always being taught something old
Gender identified right when I was born
Out of the womb they told me I was a boy
Just because of simple thoughts
I was told that dolls and the color pink was not for me
Just the same as a girl was told that they were hers
That we would grow up together, but treated as if they were separate
Telling us that we were created equal
Yet treating us different the whole time
How can they tell us that we are same
While also telling us the opposite of things
That because I am a boy I have to be the less delicate
That she has no masculinity and must find it in a boy just like me
That to be beautiful I must be of a strong shapely size with sharp edges
(Sorry I am a boy and beauty is only retained for her)
While she has to be the opposite of me
Instead of being large she must be small and cut with soft curves
So we can be identified even more as boy and girl
The more that we grow the more they define us
Further the gaps grow between girl and boy
Constantly taught that a boy needs to take care of a girl
A girl is too weak and must be taken care of by a boy
Engrained into us some form of superiority
Engrained into her some form of inferiority
That girls are weak and boys have to be strong
A boy that he was born perfect and needs nothing to improve
While the girl needs layers upon layers to be that good
Telling me that boys are good at sport, science, math, but not art
Telling her that she can perform art, but won't be good at anything else
That I must provide everything for us
When all she needs to do is look some way
How can you say that you created us equal
When you motivated me in many ways and told me I was perfect
That when I looked her way you handed her things to improve herself
You wholly embraced me, a boy, from birth and even now
Telling me that I have to be the strongest and the most honest
Yet every time I looked her way
You were telling her that she is weak and be false with me
(Just so we could get along)
I tell you now; you didn't create us equal
Your system is one of cruelty
One that separates and divides
Dividing people from people
So we can't realize that we are all the same
A boy is a boy because you told him how to be
A girl is a girl because you told her how to be
You didn't teach us. You destroyed us
Leaving us at separate ends
So most people do not know
That honestly
We Are Created Equal

Merry Christmas, but this is still not a Christmas gift
This is yet another appreciation of you, Janet
I'm still sorry that I can't make you anything other than this
I'm sorry that it's been a year now since I've seen you
It's even more sad now that all I've given you is my words
Even though it's been a year you still mean so much to me
You never really know much you effect someone, until time has gone
This year I didn't make as many friends, but I made some
Mostly everyone I met
Put into perspective how unique you really are
Now that this year is ending there is fewer people I wish I had seen
There's only one person I am writing a poem for right now
Only one person that I want tell how much they matter
I only want one person to know
How important they are before the year ends
Once again believe me I am not building up to say some other person
JANET you are the one person that  Iwant to know how special they are
The 1 and only person I think deserves some words
My very being shudders thinking how long it's been
Knowing that I have not seen you for one year
I haven't been there to hold you up for so many days, months, a year
I've missed all your wild and crazy thoughts, all your personality.
I haven't been able to be a real friend
Even one year later you still stand true as one of the best I've ever met
Maybe memories fade with time and so do the people we know
Maybe you have forgotten me after all this time.
Maybe this is much more awkward for you
As you have met many more wonderful people since last year
That does not bother me as you are still a shining moment in my mind
Two people that had little time for all the great memories we have
No matter 1 year or 50, I will always know Janet Kung
We will always have our moments together
The enjoyable experiences of the past
Our luxurious time that can never be gone
The end: I've missed you Janet
Love, Michael.

They Call me the Ocean.
Maybe to people that means how large of a man I may be.
Or they are confused by my physical form,
because I don't look like an Ocean.
But believe me I am the ocean,
and you are the ******* puddle.
On the ground outside right now.
You only last for a few hours, even if that.
Your depth is not one that can equal the ocean.
We can explore all your insides within one second.
I can take one step and be all the way through you already.
To make you it takes one single rain cloud.
To make me, you can't replace this.
No matter how many rain clouds there are in world.
You can't remake this for the entirety of our existence.
Yes there may be other oceans in the world, but I am part of them.
There is only 4 oceans, but we can't count how many puddles there are.
The only thing within you can be shown on the surface.
You merely reflect the little world around.
But if you were to look at me.
You would see the reflection of the whole entire sky line.
See that's where everything stops with you.
The mere reflection of what's around you.
But with me.
Everything isn't taken so literally.
That within every little drop is a part of the ocean.
The deeper you dive the easier it is to tell what's different.
With a puddle you need not explore, but simply walk by.
But the ocean, you can never find it all.
You can only find so much.
People have tried since the beginning of time.
They only know that I am deep.
They don't know what's all within me,
and maybe they never will...

Did it ever really happen?
Tonight I wonder if all these people were ever real.
Same as they should imagine if I, Michael, ever existed.
Somewhere I imagine some land where all these people exist.
This place hold sanctuary only in my head.
Ma, pa, Grandma, brother.
Do you exist, you are no longer here, It's hard to believe you ever lived.
Those Sunday mornings, did we ever go to church?
Did we ever go to the diner for our Sunday Brunch?
I thought I saw our neighbors do the same, but I never go anymore.
I just woke up from a dream.
From the sanctuary in my head.
And I look around my house.
But it shows no signs that you ever lived.
I clutch at the memories in my head.
And ask myself are these dreams.
Did I fantasized this life of mine.
It's hard to believe that it was a lie all this time.
But when I call out for you.
I only hear the echo of my own.
I'll never known the difference between our tone.
Do I dream.
or have I lived.

I love so hard
That I burnt holes through my lungs
I burned with such emotion
That I set my heart on fire
There was so much energy
That I shook with such violence
I steamed with such intensity
I left my body without any liquidity blood
I began to realize that I burned with the intensity of the Sun
and at night I could never set myself out
An ever burning thought
One prevalent of love and kindness
Forever warm to the touch
I felt so much
I could always feel the coolness around
Everything around me wanting to take my warmth
We could never share the heat
I created all that I could and they always wanted to be like me
I loved so much
I felt the world clutch at my burning flesh
and tear each piece of me to build their own fire
I keep building my eternal fire
I felt so much
and kindled my feelings beyond repair
That past love and compassion
Is the numbness that comes with the cold
A fire so hot, that to the touch is made of ice
My heart of embers burned so brightly
That even tonight it blinds me
As the ashes and dust suffocate my mind
My flames will always rise

I imagine that my words can never be rational.
I imagine that my words can never be something you love.
I imagine that who I am is something that you will forget.
As my mind wonders the pages that I skim.
I imagine that you don't even remember my name.
I look harder at what I am trying to read.
But I still imagine your lipstick smudged smile against the blinding sun
I focus on each word in front of me.
I begin to read the title of what I want to read.
Self...Some how I lose track again.
and I imagine the blotted dark night sky against tree tops.
You know that one night that we spent together by the lake?
That one wonderful night where you told me all the things about you
Yes I still remember what you told me
How you always loved the sunflowers that grew around the summer
and it's amazing how much detail I remember of those times
and how I bought a dress of sunflowers the very next day for you.
I stop
Realizing that I need to stop imagining
I need to stop imagining how you are with someone else now
I need to stop imagining you wearing that dress for another
and how they will hold you while you wear that dress
I begin to read the article, even though I didn't finish the title yet
I suppose I forgot that I didn't finish the title yet
and I skim back to the top of the page
Imagining to myself how can I forget that
but can not seem to erase the thoughts of you from my brain
I think back to what I ate today, and I can't seem to remember
My stomach rumbles and with that I am reminded that I have not ate
Sadly with that same rumbling I imagine their pet name you gave
You called the rumbles rusty as they reminded you of an old rusty man
I slam my face near the screen and begin to read the title
Self help guide on how to not commit suicide: 10 easy tips
and I skip past all 9 till I get to number 1
*It says to imagine doing something else other than reading this article.

I was told that knowledge was power.
I was told that I should become as smart as I can be.
I need to learn.
I need to remember.
I need to come to terms with the past.
So I can unfold the future.
I did as I was told,
and I keep on doing so.
But these people.
They never told me how lonely it would feel.
They never told me that they wouldn't do the same.
I was never told that everyone else would settle.
That they would find out before me that they should stop.
That it's impossible to learn it all, so what's the point.
If we can only learn so little.
What's the point of learning things beyond our daily use.
What's the point of being able to reason out the functions of time.
What is the point of being able to reason the thoughts of another.
What's the point if I can't use it to help myself,
and this is why it is so lonely.
The one thought that made people stopped.
They never learned the answer to it,
and makes those who keep going the loneliest bunch.
Because to be honest everyone else settles.
Can't you see that's the world.
No matter who they are, they are people that settle.
People everywhere settling for the bad.
Because it's easier to say that you tried and then die in the fire.
Because no one is there to question you about why you stopped.
There is no one to wonder why you do not stop those from evil.
Why have you stopped thinking.
Why have you stopped learning.
Why aren't you out there doing what you need to do,
and they will tell you all the things of what they live for
Or what they live with.
You will see the people that settle.
These people are your friends.
They are even your family.
IT IS EASIER TO STAND STILL.
IT IS EASIER TO ADMIT DEFEAT
It is easier to blame everyone else, but yourself.
As long as you see yourself clear of blame.
Then those people will always be able to settle.

I am thankful.
At the same time I am not.
It's hard to be thankful.
When your wishes are never met.
That if you were to be honest.
Well speaking honestly.
No one would ever grant my wish to make me thankful.
Logical or rational.
How you would explain my mind.
If you were to meet me.
You would hear the titter tatter of a robot's mind.
Seemingly skimming through numbers.
To phrase through the facts.
But if I were that logical.
Does that mean suicide, I do the same?
That if I spoke my mind about this, would you not agree?
Convincing those the idea of equality.
While at the same time planning times of when I won't be.
You call me too young to know so much,
but age doesn't equate the pain.
And with pain, we learn so much.
That while I am young and some are old.
I know the concepts of what we can gain,
and what I am willing to lose.
I want to be thankful for other things,
but I am thankful only for one.
Either show me something that I do not know,
or grant me my final wish.
I am thankful.

From where I am.
Under the stars.
In the fresh night air.
Buzzing sounds.
Flashing lights.
Sounds drowning.
Worlds twisting.
Amidst the thundering world.
My mind swirls,
and I begin to hurl.
Then everything stops.
No more.
Lips bitten.
Tongue swollen.
Eyes ******.
Heart breaking.
Hands shaking.
I begin to go numb.
My view crashes.
Locked onto the ground.
Stuck,
frozen,
crippled,
unable to move.
Only able to think.
Possibly feel,
but too empty.
Blinking,
stuttering,
convulsing.
Save me.
Help me.
Someone.
Screaming.
Opens my eyes.
Closes the door.
Walks back into my room.
Maybe I'll try tomorrow.

The love of your touch.
I imagined your hands.
As if they were a part of me.
That they would slowly sink into my flesh.
The warmth.
The essence.
The sense of existence.
So soft.
Pure.
They take hold of me.
No longer sensing two beings, but the semblance of one.
I feel at balance.
That somewhere I was missing a part of my body.
That I had long last lost.
When we are no longer touching.
I feel as if I have just been through surgery.
That some piece of me has been cut out.
That strongly I have the urge to be touched by you; again.
My insides scream for me to find, you.
My lungs tell me that there is no oxygen.
That I must find, you to breathe.
My liver tells me that there is too much alcohol in my blood.
I must find, you to filter out the pain.
My stomach twists as it screams for food.
I must find, you to motivate me to eat.
My whole body is tearing itself apart.
For just one more touch.
But I know better than to go back.
I cry and miss those hands.
My brain whispers to never let them touch again.
Never let them abuse.
Don't let those hands crush anymore.
They controlled.
Your lungs do not gasp for air out of love.
But because those hands were rapped around your throat.
Those hands brought all the alcohol into your veins;
So you could not resist.
Only yourself can filter out the pain.
Your stomach does not twist for them
Not out of hunger, but the sickness that the medicine brings.
These flowers next to the bed calling me dear.
Will not bring me back to those hands.

Sleeplessly I stumble the side walk,
A man.
No, I was something other than a man.
A man would hold their head high and sing songs of glory.
Deep bellows would slush around his words.
Dominance would gush.
Strong and unburdened.
Shoulders wide and broad.
Just like the horizon that rose for him.
Setting ablaze his inner beings.
Tempers unable to be tempted.
Slightly tipped to one side.
Animosity of being such a way.
Strongly glaring at the world.
A mold that doesn't fit whom he should be.
Never told to be a man.
Because that's how he always acted.
Edgy and living up to expectations.
Male companions never wavering.
Unable to shed this masculinity.
A stage set for man.
Started when he was a boy:
Pick fights,
Be tough,
Never shed a tear,
Do not show weakness;
When brought to your knees, that could never happen.
A man never falls down.
Never sees darkness.
But the wholesome sun that rose for him.
It's the way everything started.
It's the reasoning behind his ability to batter and abuse.
It's why his lovers always felt the strength of his hands.
Why his brothers in arms never said a word.
It's the same reason I walk the streets alone.
Never able to ask for hand with a closed fist.
And never taught to open them.
Only taught to beat yourself dead.
No longer able to continue life as a man.
That's why so many of us end up dead by our own hand.

Reality is a troublesome topic to persuade.
Subtly tiptoe the tropes of life and death.
Black Swan tips the scales of good and bad.
Light and Dark.
Misanthropy, how can we not.
The good die young.
  Is all we've ever heard.
Beauty dies fast.
One glance of beauty.
An ever long war.
The greatest and the best only strive for success.
Not the redemption or aptitude that they test.
Many bring emotion,
but folly the ends.
Greatness dies.
And only reprized in final a glance.
Unrecognized do we part.
Our being sold wrought.
Once escape is our parting phrase.
Stodgily will our image fade.

A maniacal machine of glad and fad
A thing of mystery
A man that smiles the brightest of us all
No matter the weather, even in the fall
The darker stories that he never tells
Ring the most often of all the bells
These chimes are the very loudest
and his least proudest
They are the things that lead him to the bars
And honestly he hides these scars
His laughter is among the most of any
Because he was told not to frown by the most of many
He is not mad
Only empty and sad
All alone he is
Sharp edges are his only friends
Deprived of self expression
He's been in a depression
And this is why he is a maniacal machine of glad and fad
No longer a thing of mystery
At least here he's not the smiling man

When you sit atop the clouds.
Will you peek through the glistening white strings of cotton.
To peer upon the shining smiles of the ones that you loved.
Maybe you will avoid their glances to the sky.
Maybe you will avoid them all together, and never watch their eyes, once more.
That even in the cloudy paradise of fluffy cotton candy.
There is pain that seeps into the pores of your fleshy, pudgy being.
Even while surrounded by pure existence.
Those ones still hurt your inside the most.
Not because of what they've done, but because of what you've done.
That after your final shadows has crossed the earth beneath .
You knew that your final bow was the greatest blow you ever dealt the, ones below.
Forever left to faded shadows and corrupted memories.
Signs that were hidden beneath your vague expressions.
Only thing left was the one time you cried out your pain to those below.
A simple ode to those lovely faces, typed out across your Macintosh .
The world through a looking glass
Only shattered for a brief moment before the show came to an end.  
A simple message,
I'll watch you from the clouds above.

House maid
I was told that a house maid was someone that you paid.
A person. A stranger. A worker.
Someone that you don't really know.
Someone that you are estranged to.
Someone that simply cleans up after you.
You can't really complete sentences to them,
because when you look them in the eye, you only see a worker.
Seeing that honestly this person is beneath and worth only your filth.
That treating them decent would make them more.
That's not what you want, you want to see them as your servant.
While lying that you think of them as family.
Coming in and out of your house daily.
They only have time to clean up after your family.
When they come home to their own mess, there's nothing left.
Energy they used to ease your life, was the energy to rebuild their own.
Without energy all they have is the ability to rinse and repeat the cycle.
Now while I act like your house maid.
I no longer see you as the family members I maybe had.
but the estranged owners that now I have.
You are not simply my boss, but the people that own my life.
When I come and go out of my room to clean yours.
I see only the people and things that belong to strangers.
I am a live in house maid.
The only difference from me and a house maid is that they get paid.
You owning my life and all else, simply reminds me that I am no maid.
That simply put, I am most likely your slave.
and what a difficult place to be,
when I used to be your son.

You speak in volumes.
Volumes of loud, loud, and a little bit louder.
You speak these volumes only when I come around.
I heard you speaking to your family,
and **** that is heart breaking to hear.
When your voice echos around my ears,  
Why you sound so lovely it's hard not to fall in love with you again.
When you speak to me it's hard not to be heart broken.
Because with each word you bite your own tongue.
Some how screaming out other words is only what you can do.
I speak the same words as I always spoke.
That's who I am a master painter of vocabulary; that never left his creed
Yet the artist whom I fell in love with only has 2nd rate living room-- pieces to throw around these days.
I'm building works and conveying such honesty that I can only find. While I'm in the gallery with you.
No matter the beauty I can build; some how you never see me build it.
I construct such things right before your eyes.
Although you only tell me they are lies.
Maybe the daunting shadows of last gallery shine too bright.
That when you compare the two.
My best lines obscure the ones orchestrated before you now.
I open our last gallery for a viewing,
and you shine so bright.
You become my sunshine like you were then,
and your glow blazes childish hope into my veins,
but then I realize that, our past is all you see these days.
That the future doesn't hold special things anymore.
As the gates close to our viewing, obviously the sun no longer shows.
I sit amongst our living room art; you have created once more.

Each day is drowned in frigid waters.
Never able to dock against real land.
Little bubbles ripple to the surface of the ill-fated.
Riptides of hate and disgust slam the high towers of this mighty hull.
The icy cluster plunges into the depth of our core.
Defiantly this mighty bow of ours shrieks from its deathly hollows.
As if some ghostly being is wailing it's final departure to the sea.
Monotonous overtones creak inside this inlet;
as life and death flood to it's harmony.
Brimming with animosity and subjugation.
The majestic's heart yearns for land one last time.
Our innards displayed,
as our two halves fatally sink to their final depths.
Never reaching our idol port.  
Never finding what was Solely ours to find.  
A sinking Ship.

Every time you spit these words around me.
You spray them out with such anger.
Every time you speak these lines.
I can't help but see you breathing fire.
Hearing the snarl in your voice.
I don't see family, I see a monster.
Some creature that lurks within my own home.
Someone that likes to call themselves a parent.
I may be too old, to be the one you shout out and hit.
But I can't watch a beast lash out at the ones around it.
Your frustration taken out onto the ones that beg for your love.
The people look to you for care and guidance.
Not for you to spit venom and strike them down with your bloodied claws.
You call yourselves people.
But I only see devils disguised as monsters.
The brief moments where you stand tall as a father or a mother.
Do not come often enough, more likely.
You fall hard onto your more instinctive traits.
Of gnarled rawrs and slashes across those who you feast upon.
Become people not monsters,
and treat your children as equals.