thoughts weigh
heavy on my mental
So I grab a pencil
And write it all down
I hear the pitter patter sound
of my tears
They Run the ink away
Even they too can't stay
My anxiety is kicking in
I grab my paper and my pen
And I jot my deepest pains
and dreams
I share my nightmares
which aren't really what they seem
Merely old experiences
that only have clearances
when I'm sleep
My pencil in my keep
I write and write until I pass out
Then I wake to fake a day
In my thoughts is where I stay
It a terrible terrific curse
A writers pepeeze
My pencil keeps my mind at ease
I wonder after I write and scratch and choke recanted and jot side incomplete notes
How does my paper feel?
Because my mind is the flood the hurricane the tsunami of fear
my paper and pen are my life jackets my levee
Poor paper must feel real real heavy

Every single day, I want to write,
about you ~
Hoping that you can see it, and guide my pen,
I miss you ~
I feel bad, when I can't write, and have a block,
but I try ~
It's the only way I can feel you, we never got to say,
a goodbye ~
Do I feel ripped off? Hell yeah, I do.
but that's why ~
I must remain, on this earth, though I feel lonely,
but alive ~
You loved me, and I know that, and I miss being,
your world ~
But, you were mine too, and since you left, my whole life,
has been a whirl ~
Why'd you have to care about me? And please understand,
when you left ~
I wasn't prepared, I was alone, and I was scared,
half to death ~
I tried it twice, but I failed, I believed I'd see you,
if I died ~
Deep down inside, I wanted to live, I was so lost,
so I cried ~
Just know that today, I feel thankful, that you loved me,
and I try ~
To be a good person, because you showed me, what love should feel like,
so I cry

Thirteen Years

There was a time when I lived to hurt
I reveled in the sadness on peoples faces
From the detached flesh on my face to the blood on my shirt
All I wanted was to switch places

I wanted a way out when I picked up a knife
I wanted an end to my pointless life
I wallowed in self pitty and pushed away the hands that wanted to help me out of my hole
But a ***** remained in the hand of a fool
I cut without remorse the flesh of my arm
I lived heart and mind to cause everyone harm
I picked up the remains of my mothers heart and threw them into the fire
But all I was doing was lighting my own pire

No one ever gave up on me though my chances were running out
They saw the good in a monster full of self doubt
To this day I do not understand how its lasted so long
The human spirit is indeed strong

Through the times was the magic number five
One hundred niney eight scars it took to appreciate being alive
I picked up the shattered pieces of the glass house I destroyed
The scaring of lives at the time I enjoyed

I took apart my life but am working to fix it again
Thirteen years it took for my humanity to mend
A simple man with a heart once made of ebony stone
Took thirteen years to finally atone

I've used my story to save a life already
To teach others not to rush to take it steady
For a life is something of priceless value
Its not the place of others to doubt you
Your life is your own do with it what you will
I know now blood is nothing to spill

As I layed on the kitchen floor bleeding out
Or as I jumped into the night without doubt
As I threw my life into a blender and the rest of me too
With my story in hand I come to you

I took what I was given but always wanted more
I was simply a monster to my core
But no longer I say not anymore
My mended wings aim to soar

A story of how a monster became a man is told
One of how a man watched things unfold
But I value all that I have now
That is my truth this is my vow

We are all different are many ways
But we share a beating heart and the ability to praise
Don't cling to the past though not forgotten we must move on
We must take what we've made for ourselves and stay strong

This is the story of a man climbing out of a hole
This is the tale of a mended soul
This is a tool made to teach life's not so bad
For I am one who is no longer sad
This is one of how a man fell from glory
This is the truth and this is my story

listen to the warm
of a heart
where memories rise
within those golden times
held in the distant past
those lineaments of desire
touch in those moments
within the hour
where that excitement
rises like a beast
exploding passion
where two hearts meet
lips touch
and the evening continues
into the dawn

I want to look inside your window panes
A heart carrying stains
A mess she can't erase
Place your palm upon where it hurts
Someday, somehow
We'll find treasure in the dirt
In my arms, find your worth
Dragging chains
Carrying pain
And I thought of you today
I still see your pretty face
Even though you're not in this lonely place
I hope in all your faith that you found better days
I hope in all your grace that you still wander with wonder
I hope in all your ways that I'll see you again as mine someday

The leaf crying to go back to tree

Tears pouring pain welling
Dried ones.
Wants to cling
But the mighty one
Towering up
You are with me little one till today
Go search your worth if any
Then the mother upon whose ***** it fell
Embraced and said
I am the origin,I am the end
Your circle is complete
You had your way
Now relax
You have come
After far away
Where there is no desire
No longings,no pain
Only belongings

Your tonque speaks the metaphor of the oar.  noiseless, fluent, it defines a
perfect path for two arousing hearts to entangle into
one inseparable strand of embrace.

It arcs and dips its wooden blade in unmoving water.  Like a nascent poem, it rises and breathes into one particular shape, your mind wants.

There is wisdom in the drift of the oar,
as it pulls a lost cannoe from mute running in the still water of night.

Grant me then, oh goddess, one  moment in time, to relish your sublime verse of passion... without a trace of lament in your heart.

And speak to me
in whisper... In whisper.