I have this book
I write down all my thoughts
Unfinished or not
They finish me
The parts of my heart
My life together
Paper is my life
It connects me to other poets
And other writers
And other artists
Of every different kind.

Not composed
And no composure
No more love for
Or sense of closure
Wont bring you roses
I attract these vultures
When one door closes
My window opens
Releases the smoke in
To the breeze
A calming motion
I shun emotions
You evoke them
Im done and hopeless
Too much of your
Hopeless potion
Has me chokin
I let go then
You just keep throwin
All the flaws you notice
Walls keep closin
Eyelids refuse to close and
Pupils remain focused
Penetrated my dialated
Heart is still broken
Your ego needed strokin
So i fed you my soul
You devoured what was left of me
to empower your shallow self esteem
So wasted the time
Forgotten moments

He hasn't buried the baby within
but today he buried the ashes of his baby
crying like a baby
as the river devoured the bone dusts
and all the remnants
of the cuddles and kisses
hollowing him to remember
the guest of his blood
that would feed on his grief
for the rest of his life.

everything I am is a lie
my addiction waits...

what kind of role do I play
the damage is complete

I'm broken and shattered
scattered with the wind

I am all these lost pieces
hoping to be whole again