Happy birthday little guy
You are now 4 years old.
Welcome to the age of comprehension.
Your mind will now belong to the development,
and warped world around you.
Telling you what is right and what's wrong.
Be a good boy, okay?
Everyone is here to see you blow out your candles buddy,
and they all brought gifts to celebrate your life.
"Nod, Yes daddy, thank you soooo much"
Now blow out your candles!
Welcome
The phone rings
You are now 21 years old
Hey, I just wanted to tell you that I miss you
and that I love you buddy, have a good birthday.
A big birthday this one, don't go crazy, haha.  It would of been nice if you were able to have come home today, but you must be too busy with college today.
Well I love you; you'll always be my little guy.
Bye-Bye
*I miss you so much buddy, why did you have to take your own life last year

I wish we could write life in pencil
maybe my life is the white board of life
Can I please at least be a chalk board
maybe they don't erase the things that rub off on them perfectly
but at least they get to rub something off
I am more like a tar pit of a life
Where the things that touch my life will forever stick to me
You see the monsters that have come and died, leaving their remnants here to rot
Why Can't I Etch a Sketch myself a new beginning
I was sick two weeks ago; went to this terrible place of pins and hell
Then I realized the pain in my body
was nothing compared to the pain in my soul
I wished for the pain to come and eat my body whole
Today I feel that pain again, maybe this time it comes forever
then my soul can be put to rest
and Etch A Sketch itself into a different reality

Dream of dreams
But never dream of life
Do not put faith into the life you want
Do not put life on this pedestal of hope
Please do not dream of life
Please dream of dreams
Dream of the things that do not exist
Give me creativity and express with colors never seen
Light that never existed
Because when you dream of life
You will not be living
You will be dying
Just like me.  You will not be living
Dreams only lead to despair
So I beg you, please dream of something better than life
Grant yourself that gift.  
The greatest gift you could ever aspire to
Something better than this life.
A Dream of dreams

I stopped writing and I started feeling
Without words I could no longer push reality away
Instead I spelt the words across my flesh
Instead of writing beauty. I spelled out destruction
I no longer wrote about the dreams of another
I lived the nightmares of my own

The shortest poem there ever was.(I lied. it isn't that short[Sorry])
With the deepest story.  (well, what is your definition of deep?)
There ever was.  (depending on your definition, then yes, "ever was" is right.)
Spanning across all the land. (actually it's not on land at all, it's in the air when I speak)
through all existence, (lets just say "all of existence", that sounds nice)
thoughts, (well my thoughts and yours)
languages, (that would be Spanish and English for us)
struggles, (oh there are a few of these)
1 breaks all, (well maybe more than one thing)
and here it is, (dramatic much)
"I love you"
quite simple. (but so complex)
isn't it,  ( I believe it so)
Daniela (Cutest Cute Cutie)

A box.
That's all it is a box.
Some cardboard, no big deal.  Does not mean a thing to anyone else.
But I want to send this box so bad.
It's a box of thoughts and promises.
That it means the world.
I must get it out.
I must sail it over the sea.
If I must I will send it by plane.
If not plane then boat.
Yes, this is going where you think it is.
If not by either of those I guess I'll have to bring it by foot,
because this box only means the world when it's in your hands.
Not mine.
Everything inside would mean nothing if you did not exist.
I only have this box to give to you.
and inside is my heart, a metaphorical heart of course.
Because I'm pretty sure we both wouldn't be happy it was a real one.
That note would say; "Here's my heart where it belongs."
#I'mDead.
I don't know if you've noticed but it may be just a box.
But it isn't just a box at all.
If it means soo much and I put all I can put into.
Then this box is apart me,
but really it is a part of us.
I don't know if that makes sense.
Saying that a box is part of us,
but it is part of our thoughts and our history.
This box represents the world,
and that you and I exist.
It's a string that connects us when we can't be connected.
As I talk to you everyday and every night.
Miles and miles away.
It'll be on it's way,
and land at your door.
My heart.
and maybe yours.

Merry Christmas, but this is not a Christmas gift
This is more of an appreciation of you, Janet
I can't make you art, and I am sorry that I can't
I am sorry that I can't give you something other than my words
So I'll do my best to tell you how much you mean to me
I don't think you'll ever know how deeply you matter in my heart
and I don't want to express my feelings in some generic sort of way
I've made many friends this semester, if I had to count it'd probably be a strong 40
40 people that I am willing to say are my new found friends
Yet leaving after this semester I will only have 1 reason of why I'll be sad to leave
I only had 1 person that it was hard for me to tell I'll be gone soon
I only took one person to the side to tell them about next semester
There's only 1 person I've been trying to see more of before I go
and no this is not some big build up to say some one other than yourself
JANET you are the one person that I will miss
The 1 and only person I feel some anxiety to leave
My very being aches a little thinking
knowing that I won't be able to knock at your door
I won't be able to come and hold you up
I won't be able to look at you and wonder what you are thinking
I'll no longer be able to sit next to you in the MPR or anywhere
You have been if not the best person I have met in a very long time
You make me feel wonderful when I'm feeling terrible
Maybe you did lie to me the first time we met, but we're way beyond that
Maybe you do always walk ahead of me
Maybe you do always make me feel awkward in front of other people
but none of that matters, other than it got us to where we are
Two people that will forever have memories of each other
No matter how much time goes by I will always know Janet Kung
We will always have our poem of lovely improv
The enjoyable meals of me doing everything for you
and our luxurious night at La Traviata
The end: I love you Janet

Maybe we should take a little bit better
Of ourselves.
Of each other.
Of our Friends.
The people that make up our lives.
The people whom we are in the life of.
Maybe we should ask
The questions that need to be said.
The difficult task that must be done.
Or  simply.
Ask the hardest questions.
How are you? Not today but every moment! Are you happy?
How are you feeling, will you get out of bed today.
Want to go out with me?
Maybe we should tell them
What we really think.
I love you/I like you/I can not get enough of you.
Your eyes, your beauty, Makes my insides melt.
Your hugs I don't want to let go.
Maybe we should share
Our own life stories.
Our own defeats.
Our warmth.
Maybe we should relax for
One more second.
One more breath.
One more word.
One more glance.
Maybe.
We should.
Just.
Care a little bit more...

Kicked out of college.
I can't be successful,
and it's all because I can't succeed.
You say my grades are not good enough for you.
I'm sorry.
That I can't keep up.
You don't give me enough time to understand.
Maybe if you taught me I would.
Maybe if my family had been here before I wouldn't need extra time.
I go to college to be taught,
but all college offered me was the books;
books at a high price.
You say I lack the ability, but it seems like you lack the ability to understand yourself.
Unable to see past the constraints of this rigorous campus,
and see that I'm struggling on the inside more than the outside.
Unable to perceive which way to go, making life decisions can't be that fast.
I love you education, but your bounty is too bold.
Simple minds deprive you of what glory you could hold.
College, simply glance past me as if I'm another person you have tried to educate.
but failed you, where I feel more like college failed us both.
Your unwillingness to see that life is going on,
and mashing people together thinking that we are of one mold.
College you failed, you don't offer diversity, but attempt to hide your singularity.
I'll figure out what's going on inside.
Then I'll teach myself what I need to know.
An institution blinded by their bills.
Can no longer educate.
One day you'll do the same as me,
and open up yours eyes.

My poem is called how to be forced into a talent show.
It's very easy to be forced into a talent show when you're me.
No, I am not saying, "Ooooo" look at me I am Michael Ryan and I am the most talented person in the world.
I'm more saying, "oooo" look at me, I'm such a nice person that I will do your talent show, even though I don't want to.
Yes, that is what I am really trying to say, but not in a conceited kind of way, because that's not me.
I was forced into this talent show from the very beginning.
The very beginning, the very first sign up day.
and I thought "hmm I don't have any talent", and she was like oh yes you do, well of course I believe her.
And from that moment I've felt slightly uneasy, because to be honest she can't be there every day to tell me "hey you have talent."
And to be honest all I'm doing is a SPOKEN WORD poem, which is pretty much just me talking.
What a talent that must be...but not really.
Then my friend tried to jump on board with me to do a duet of a poem, so I was forced even more in to this situation.
But luckily that person changed their mind and so I was just stuck with my original oh you have talents person stringing me along into this over thought situation.
Just to let you know I did eventually try to tell them hey I think I'm not gonna do(but then they cut me off), and told me once again you got talents, and please please please do my talent show.
So of course I can't say no, that's not what a nice guy would do, which I am.
And this is what came to me, how about I just write about how one is forced to be doing this in front of a group of people, even though you already said no soooo many times.
And to be honest this is terrifying, because I just came up with this, 30mins ago.
Even though I sat for many hours thinking what to write, it just never felt well right.
And ugh seriously this is so stressful, that I really do wonder why I am even up here.
I could be sleeping right now, but instead I've been convinced to do this.
And there's no guarantee anyone or myself will even like this.
But sleep, ****, I know I would like to fall into that right now.
Just dreaming, peacefully, to be sleeping and not on a stage, being gawked at by some strangers.

I fear understanding
you can't understand me
that's fine
No, one can
I'm just a jumble mess of a fruit salad
and you wonder what each piece is
is that watermelon?
nope that's a very strange strawberry, I think some one took a bite and put it back in
Does that not make sense?  I hope so I tried to make sense
but if I just let myself go and talk and talk and talk
well it's hard to think, hmm will you understand these words of mine?
or are you just smiling and agreeing to be nice(even though I think that's pretty rude of you)
Open and understanding of the things around me, it's hard to know what to do
what is the right thing for me to do
There's people out there smoking all sorts of things
There's people studying all the things they want to know
people becoming drug dealers, people becoming doctors
Hmm, can't I just be Michael?
Yup, I think that's the one for me
You'll just write a poem instead of doing either of those things
it's easier that way
become successful? naw bro, I"ll just become a poet
and when I become old and gray and eventually pass away
many years after that fateful departure
I will become the most famous out of all these people
All of them, just because I chose to write and write and write
random things, that when I'm no longer there to explain what they mean
people will be able to ponder, hmm I think this one is about a dragon(none of my poems are about dragons, although maybe I'll write one now)
People will get all my writings wrong wrong and more wrong
the longer I am dead the more mysterious my writing will be become
My fragmented words will begin to mean new things
and further off the trail those people will be
and more a genius they will think I am, even though they will have just read a poem about a dragon.

I'm feeling lazy today
How about you write me a poem this time
So I can rest my head and let my heart sleep in peace for just one night

Have you ever watched a movie more than once
most of time that's a thing, falling in love with the movie
the scenes
the people
the every little detail
that bring more happiness or acknowledgement into their lives
It doesn't matter what those things are, they do it over and over
and to be honest that beautiful
that's love
being able to come back to something over and over and know that's what you love
That no matter the flaws of that art
no matter the unchanging damages that will always exist
you're able to come back
back to this old house of yours
feeling comfort
JOY
That's what people are longing to be the movie in your life
that even though they **** and will always **** at some things
you come back
and love them
maybe realize that you love them even more
now that time has gone by
you have grown to appreciate their glamor even more
and truly, amazing this is
Just come back
and read another time
and you'll have changed
to understand
that I will constantly be here
the same words, paragraph into this persons mind
isn't that something to come back to?

I have to write a poem.
So I said I'd write a poem.
A poem about my a friend, a friend...I've never met.
One that I know.
Not a symbolic friend, but a friend that really exist.
She's somewhere in the world, yes I know where, exactly, not the street, but the distant land they live.
I may not know the true presence they give off if I were there in person.
But I know enough to know that they are dear to me!
I could go beyond to say that they are if not one of the best of any person I have ever come upon.
Maybe meeting the way we did was the best way for us to meet.
Being able to give our all; right at the starting gate.
No, worries of being frowned at, especially since most of the time we can't see each others faces.
But that doesn't matter I see so much more than the strangers in her life.
Even more than most friends will ever see.
I get to see what matters, and that means the world.
She maybe some what crazy, and most of the time fairly lame, really she is super super lame
But the lameness is what is so nice to see, since I am the same way.
Talking to her, 'hmm how can I explain for you to understand.'
Calming kinda like the ocean breeze, or relaxing on a devilishly sunny clear sky day.
Everything else is kinda blurred out, left to right nothing, but silence and peace.
Even if our insides are beaten up, and someone is sore from kayaking.
I think the knowledge that there really is someone else that cares,
even if they too don't have a picture of me on some wall.
I know that they are willing to try to make me happy and that says so much more.
They may never be able to give me a shoulder to lean on,
but their words will always be there to pick me back up.
They're my friend and I can't thank them enough.

I came up here to say another one of my silly little poems
and that's exactly what I'm going to do
except I won't only describe what i thought or what I think
I should describe exactly what I am
Before I even said a word some other things flashed through your heads
Some of them are simple facts and are easy to see
Yes, I am an overweight person and yes I am very red and no it is not a sunburn
Looking at my arms you'll notice that I do indeed have lots of freckles and I could possibly be a ginger
I do have two giant holes 1 in each ear with some metal in them, because I decided that was what I wanted to do
Possibly you thought that I don't look like a poet, instead just some bro that lost his edge
This would be my body through your eyes, and I'd pretty much agree with you
Superficially and esthetically you have determine who I am, in your head
but you would you be wrong, but possibly you could be right, but most likely you are wrong
So visually you have determined a few things about me, which has also decided if you like me or not
and it's this predisposition that makes you decide if I'm more interesting or just more annoying
but in actuality you don't even know my name yet, the most basic thing
Maybe you already knew my name, because they announced it, or we've met, but other than that you don't know me
Now that my body is out of the way, let me dig past all the social talk, and tell you what I tell my therapist, when I actually get the will to see him
I get to wake up in the morning and think "wow, I get to wake up again", telling sarcasm to yourself is kinda sad.
But it is a perfect fit when you are actually sad, or depressed, which sounds kind of extreme
sounds even worse when you throw the manic part in front of the depression; manic depression
now I sound like a crazy person, but really I just want to die, but I guess most consider that crazy
People around me find me as two sides of a coin
One is my poker face, which is a lot of fun, or myself I feel most of the time
Where I don't talk that much and I hide myself in the corner of the group; just to be in reach of people
Do I have a plan to **** myself, yet, no I do not, because I still have hope
hope that keeps the dead still alive, which I consider myself, someone that is dead,
but is still able to move around the shell that they are dead within
Now all of you random people and not so random people know, what my family and even my therapist doesn't even know.
That me, some peer of yours, you decided to identify some way because of my ears or my ginger soullessness, which I would judge the ginger too.
Would rather die than live the life that you've all help create, what a masterpiece it is.
Instead of believing these words of mine, you mistakenly think they are not proof enough
You'll ask what has happened to me
Gladly I'll be able to tell you that nothing bad has ever happened to me
my family is happy and my parents are still together and in love
I have no scars to show, other than the dumb accidents of life, or a random attack by a dog
I have no motive or reason to hate myself, but I do
and I guess that's everything I got to say
I did this to show my strength and my weakness at the same time to a whole bunch of people
Now this has warped your image of me even more, but it can't be any worse or any better
because you don't even know my name yet, and by the way my name is Michael and it's nice to meet you.

The Tides Sweep
Away the Dreams
Reality Wanes
Sand weeps as
the land seeps
Always in motion
obviously, Ocean

Babe your smile I can read
that's something that seems so genuine
You think I always got my normal sun burn going
but honestly you got me blushing
Making eye contact and that smile, brings such a rush
Sorry if you think that staring at my lips is not that noticeable
because honestly you do it way too much
How you laugh at every little thing
you give those tell-tale signs
that speak volumes more than our words
It's not a mystery of why you always grab onto me
always wanting one more touch
even if for an instance you get the pleasure of how my skin feels
You want to know who I am, and all that I am
So you laugh, flirt, throw things at me, and eventually bite me
To see if I taste as sweet as you would think
I'm no candy apple, even if I may be so brightly red
Even with everything fittingly the right place
I can't do this
No matter how much you want to know me
I can't do this
With every second I feel like I'm dying, once I get pass those goo-goo eyes
I can't do this
Sorry babe but I can't tell if this is some where new
or some where that I died before

All I got for you today,
and tomorrow,
and the day before that.
Was a cluster of emotions and lack luster words.
No day will ever be different.
I am a hack!
You are the abused!
My duty was some sorts an easy one.
And my ****** nature has come to nothing.
We've gained nothing!
No insight, not even a trivial hint at understanding.
One year has nearly passed, and seriously I've squandered our time.
"Writing", "poetry", ****.
I am sorry!
My ego and sensitivity has gotten us further down the rabbit hole.
Elegantly telling the future and the drawbacks.
Instead I've haphazardly struggle to cope with concepts,
and with that I'd drugged thousands into thinking I could do something.
Well my thousands I don't think I should do that to you anymore.
No more should I keep on going.
I will stop, because a hack can never stand the same ground as true poets.
Soon I will cease to exist and to your pleasure good bye.
Rejoice in the freedom that I no longer waste.
Enjoy your idle times in better tidings.
Some where else, without me.

I'm about to set out to my advent, college
For the second time in another year
I will leave them all behind
Now does it feel the same
I could not tell you so,
Now does it feel not the same
I wish I could tell you that
but honestly I don't know
All I know is that I'm leaving
and that I hope for the best
That my time will be worth the restlessness
hopefully I will not digress
that my time will progress
just like my simple self my river never lets go
as I steadily ground myself and dig deeper into the mountain side
my family knows these tides, will they be as rough
I doubt it, they become at ease, with my leave
while from land they may not see
but my boat has leaks
no one knows, but I may drown out at sea

What if the thing that brought you the most joy
Was also the monster in your life
That with every glimmer of desperate happiness
Something else decided to slide it's devious knifes into your side
Is the good part of the deed that is done
worth sacrificing the little bits of your heart that are left
It's always been this way with you
deviating between the good and the bad
Always going with the delightful and enchanting look first
then changing to a different hue, that we all know so much better
This always could be so much longer
not today, today was a day spent bleeding
Don't you wish today was just like the day at the beach
instead today was just like the day after the beach
No longer enjoying the rays and the waves
instead metaphorical blisters represent realistic screaming pain between us
Hope for tomorrow
and pray for the next day after.
Since tomorrow is a good day for us to talk, your voice will bring me joy
I'll break the cycle here, to see if it'll fix our lives as well.

Comfort
an emotional connection
a state of being, where you no longer hate yourself
maybe the hand made quilts that you decide to bask in all day have finally brought this fancy
instead of sweltering in this makeshift office of a bedroom
I doubt they have the ability to do that, maybe they did way back then, but not for you
these quilts were made for another, but who knows who that was
I've decided to make up identities to make things easier to come up with
I have only one persona in life, and it goes with a half smile
but in my writings I can be anyone
but I can't be anyone other than myself so they reflect who I am
Ever being the same thoughts and the same ends
every once and awhile I'm able to show my hope, the hope that keeps the dead alive
Maybe that's why I love love stories that end the way you think they should
You wanted fantasy, but always getting reality

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.

I write poems for the people to read
but none of them can get what I say.
They can see everything I'm going to speak
but all they can get is that I type in English.
Feelings, Emotions, Passion the words they can grasp,
but the concept they can't understand.
This is a little bit too difficult to read,
so much easier if I could let you hear.
Let the concepts flow and let the English pierce your ears.
With that I'll be able to start your heart;
it' ll go rappa tat tat rappa tat tat.
We''ll be able to pump up the beat,
You and I will understand me.
Intertwining thoughts and imagination
my words are hard to hold,
but my English is that more difficult.
Enjoy the crumbling ceiling of this cathedral,
because viewing works of art makes you feel better.
But you can never understand unless you were there,
being able to breathe the same air
and hear the same thoughts.

Day in. Day out.
Do we know what this is?
I'm happy to say that I don't!
But maybe you do,
and to be honest I can't tell you that I understand your life.
I don't.
Possibly it's the motions of glimmering lights flashing off your blindingly tinged windows;
that seem to let the outside world spill into your unnatural mountains.
Where it only cast looming shadows across everyone else's day.
People that once could see castles and dragons, now only see 9 to 5.
Specks of compost are the only waste left of their Papier-mâché landscapes,
an area that once composed vast fjords and lava pits;
things that only existed in fantasy have been sliced for the day in day out.
Although this is all speculation, since I don't know the day in day out.
I am only a college kid, and my day thrives on speculatory dreams.
Is this the institution that sold parts of your identity away?
I'm sorry to say, but I don't know,
until then I can't understand,
some day I will,
then I'll know if it's them or was it just us the whole time.
That slowly stole ourselves away.

Bring me home
the place where I have escaped from
is it not quite funny, that I will open my arms to jail
embracing the qualms of prison
accepting that in-equivalently freedom is overrated
silently I myself will shackle this life
swallow my breath and strangle identity
depravity will bring awareness
spurring life is the spontaneity

Last Saturday my friend passed away
and when I say what day that he passed away
people have been to think that I joke
but his death is no joke
I may call this man my friend, but to be honest I never really knew Joey
Yes, there was a slight time when I saw this guy, Joe
I only have one memory of him my freshman year of high school
and it was in the that slight time that we were friends in high school
I haven't seen him in 3 years and I only knew him for one
I haven't thought of him in 3 years and I just thought of him for once
With that I saw his death in my news feed and its hard to realize I can never message him
He probably wouldn't even of remembered me, but I remember him
I wear a memorial of his passing on my arm
I drew it myself and this anchor reminds me of him and his crew; all it takes is my arm
His passing makes this the hardest thing to write and I can't imagine the pain his real friends must feel
I'm sorry for us all, I'm sorry for his family, I'm sorry I don't know them, I'm sorry for how we feel
Most of all I'm sorry that I can't help, all I can do is remember
and hopefully me remembering and caring is enough to bring some comfort, I will remember.

Some information will span longer than conceived time
something I whisper into her ear could never be heard again
the hush of my breath breezing past your hair will never happen again
the slight tick you make to stop a sneeze those will be the sounds of forever
the tick of each hand of fate will be a reminder of your ill attempts to prevent nature from happening
those frost bitten mornings, where the only word spoken is "coco?" and the response some soft grumbles
the unsmoothed surface of my pale blue coffee table will always remind me of your unsmoothed lips
those lips that are forever marked from your inability to stop clamping onto them with those semi-whites of yours
this treasure trove of memories will not glisten to the unique beauty of gold, but the dried blood colour of rust
That reminds me the blood stains from our youthful pass probably should be swapped out for new linens
my hands will remind me of their ability to form around your body
creating semi-shackles between the thumb and pointer of either hand
my past coated with rust, those forevers perceived as forever take part in never again
my pale blue coffee table is now bright orange and my memories now glisten gold
I once again whisper into her ear and the hush of my breath breezes past her hair
she as well makes the ticks to prevent nature from happening
all that has changed is her name
and that those frost bitten mornings are now, Sunny afternoons, of lemon honey green tea and soft grumbles
in reply

What's up?
Nothing much just a visualized image of a homicide.
Sometimes the mind wonders around thinking of someones death.
Imagining grey matter splatter across 4 walls, out of the 4 walls of your bedroom.
Your pet cat is fine and seems unmoved as it sits grooming.
Sometimes this event occurs because hopefully you've fallen onto hard times with ****.
Other times it's just the usual thing, wrong place wrong time.
It's kind of a game of cat and mouse; the only thing Jerry is that my dreams don't come out as a cartoon.
Sometimes the process of muscle and bone twinges leave a sweet rhythmatic tune.
But the one I like the best is when you pay for your own suicide, it's only worth a dime.
The insides pool and leave such provocative tinges.
Your new found beauty is the only thing that can make me cringe.

Something about something
Can you speak of true intentions
Living to only get your pension
I see you bubbling
And it's got me wondering
Where are you going off to
All you are doing is fumbling through what others do
Sometimes aiming for the impossible
Is the most probable
Can't you find something not once traveled
If not then perhaps take a boat and paddle
I like you, are no longer going for gold
Although I haven't given up on the new
Your words are all about the whoo
Trying to impress, but you need to get dress
Sorry but your break is done over
and I still wonder...

I don't know.
I don't know.
every step i take, where do i go.
where do i go.
which way do i fumble forward.
which way to face toward.
So Demanding.
Demanding that i find my Future.
Can't i live my Life.
Life can some times seem to be silently Still.
Still doesn't mean it's not in The Motions.
The Motions are taking too long to find a Meaning.
Meaning that could gift me Reason.
Reason to continue this Fight.
Fighting for knowledge and Love.
Love of which I long for and someone to Understand.
Understanding the loneliness i feel, would bring a path to the Right.
Right of not direction, but path leading away from Despair.
Despair of which i have been consumed with for many Years.
Years that i slept Away.
Away i shall Go.
Going to find my Longings.
Longing i shall not bury Again.
Again, this will Repeat.
Repeating is what I do.
I don't....

Don't read, this is a waste of your time
Rotting
does this associate food
this could pertain to my ill thought mind
I would consider rotting an equivalent to life
giving a definition to what we are all doing
something that begins quite small
and ends up quite ambiguous
Since involving all sorts of life, then food is associated
Like all food
Some begin to rot so much sooner than others
some decay at a rate much faster
if we were to consider them synonyms: decaying and dying
then we could all die at different rates
not physically, but also emotionally
maybe our insides are meant to turn to mush
and maybe some aren't in such a rush
sometimes I think I'm something that's already expired
something that is never desired
one of such simplicity
I could never create
gaining goals and headlining shows
I will believe that maybe some reach their  end much sooner
others will live for hundreds
where others will live to none
Sometimes the goal is not one to reach for
it's one that all must let happen
simply and respectfully
I am rotten
the only difference
some can comeback...
You shouldn't have read this

Strange danger, awaits around not the corner, but within ourselves.
The danger is present in every crevasse of our being.
No we do not possess the danger to wreak havoc upon ourselves.
It is as dangerous as a thunder storm in July.
When fireworks should be booming, spelling out words, and making us dream, just like Walt Disney.
There should be pies and pies and only pies, because why not have only pies.
They should be of all kinds blue, red, purple, orange the taste of a rainbow should rest in our tummies.
Everyone that passes by won't wonder how did they get so many pies, they will wonder, can I have some?
And I will tell them, why are you asking, the pies are begging to be eaten, can't you see?
Because in July when there should be Thunder storms, not this day, I offer you pie.
There will be no mistreating, no mistaking, no one will pronounce your name as cobbler in this day.
And when all the mighty and delicious pies that were never mistaken for cobbler, are gone.
All will know this was some very special day in July.  Where the thunder storms stopped.
Where someone just as special as those pies, but probably not as delicious.
Came to give us all what we were craving, and represented it with pie.
To those that weren't there, they will always think, pie pie pie I wonder what was so unique about this pie.

Family what is family.
The people that decide to catch you before you fall.
Or the people that decide to pick up the broken pieces when you’ve been smashed into millions.
The millions of millions that no one else would be willing to pick up.
Even if those millions of millions was just a game to pick up a few missing parts.
They are the ones that will build a fortress around you and tell you the world is not safe for you my child.
But they will let down that gate, even knowing that the world isn’t good enough for you.
Family will have left the gate open for you to leave, but they will always beg for you not to go.
Even after you’ve left that mighty fortress they built all for you, they will cast themselves out to watch over you.
They will be the birds spying over your life, seeming to always be there, singing along to your tune of life.
Although family will also be the birds waiting above in the trees, ruining the new wash done to your car.
They will always mean to do their best; they will give all of what they can give and more.
No matter if they have to fight off the jackals of fate to speak to you once more, they will find a way.
If you are in another castle they will travel once more and once more until they find you again.
No matter how lost you become they will find the light in the deepest of caverns.
And if there is no light they will bring their own, because they know what will lighten you up.
Understanding they will be, knowing that tough times are tough to get out of.
With that knowledge they will be the best to have around, they are the ones that will accept that we all sometimes frown.
They are the blessing of life not only because they build fortresses around you, but have the ability to let you live.
No, they are a blessing because whenever you finally find out that they were the reason to so much happiness.
They will be there wondering, **** how did you just find out?

The warring battle of not good or evil.
Not right or wrong.
But at the moments notice what should be done.
Should I go out to struggle against the war of thought,
or meagerly accept that the battle has been lost;
Why not slide back into bed, a seemingly forever.
Because sometimes what is right is not always right.
And what is wrong is not always wrong.
Maybe defeat is the reality of what I need.
Would that not be so much easier.
Sorry to say, but that's what I'm leaning to.
Just cancel everything for the future, it's only war.
Request this slumber to peacefully accept that I am not meant to win.
This bed does not hold dreams.
The pillows do not rest my head.
"Comforter" oh please. It suffocates me.
These sheets were meant to bring the calm.
But they are my memories.
Reminders of why I can't leave,
and the very essence of why I should.

Twist and twist
That's what they all do
Twist and twist
**** those insides of mine
Why can't they learn that I don't like to tango
"Eye Spy with my little eye"
The reason why my insides learn to dance
Feats of contortion on display
Each pair of salsa dancers going for the gold
These duos never know when to quit
They want those mighty 10s but...
**** this brain of mine
This little dancer is satisfied with last place
He once was prized to finish out top tier
**** this brain, stop shaking feathers
Get the foxtrot down and finish this waltz
otherwise let the inside rest they having feelings too

Sleep for 5 weeks
and tell me what you feel
I slept for 5 weeks
and I'll tell what I felt
Can I tell you about how unlucky bears are
to hibernate
Maybe I tell you that it's like cardiac arrest
an abrupt darkness to revival
Perhaps it's what Haley's Comet experiences
a forever cycle of nothing, that's glorious
That isn't what I felt
Congenital Insensitivity?
That is what I felt
Something that thrives then sleeps--dies, but comes back to life--something forever fleeting--Never feeling that fatal touch.
I hibernated
I had cardiac arrest
I was something that shows beauty, but never gets drawn all the way in
I was consumed with being unwantedly numb
What do you feel in 5 weeks?