you wake up
you eat breakfast
you hear the news
but the news don’t hear you

you dress
you have a job
you get paid
but it doesn’t pay off

you get old
and you die

and you wasted a couple of
seconds of your to be wasted
life reading this.

Staying up all night because these worries keep me woke
telling my parents i need a counselor to help me sleep
seeing my mom laugh as i explain to her the troubles that haunt my mind
not being able to tell my father because he's the source of my pain.
Feeling lost in a world so cold
A civil war goes on in my head of should i stay or go
asking myself if i should drive out into traffic and end it now
feeling the pain in my chest
in my throat
wondering if it will all go away
knowing it won't
knowing its going to get worse
knowing I'm different
knowing I hate myself
music curing my temporary illness
all while contained within the walls of my youth trophies and baby pictures
the pictures take me back
make me want times that didn't hurt
times of innocence
times where the pain wasn't in my eyes yet
times when i didn't love or hate
times when i just lived
times when time was just that
when time wasn't should I stay up yet another night because the sun will rise in an hour or should I waste another one of my timeless days by sleeping from the night terrors finally going away.
Times that I miss the most
and what is most funny is that these times weren't too long ago.
I don't know, just pray for your brother
times are tough
getting tougher
lonelier and colder.
times are tough
pray for your brother
lets get through this together

As I work on my house
I come to realize how
Many wires, lights, switches, and bolts
It has on the inside and out.
And so I begin to think,
We are the same.

We can look beautiful on the outside
And be terrible on the inside.
And we can look terrible outside
And be beautiful on the inside.

The size of the house does not matter
If it is not filled with the desire to shelter.

The shape of the house does not matter
If it is built on the perfect foundation of principles.

The color of the house does not matter
If it has the ability to spread light onto the world.

This is your house,
What you fill the house with is what you will have to live with,
Till the day you clean the house
Which will clean your soul.

I know we may not be the same
And it might be hard for someone to see us in the same frame
But you are one of the few people I can call a friend
Because when I told you my problems you taught me how to mend my broken pieces back together
And showed me that I deserved better
And you showed me how to move on
So I was no longer a pawn in her game.
Now it's my turn to do the same
And show you that you deserve it all
And help you tear down the wall
That people have built to block your view
Of everything that is meant for you.

Is happiness a feeling?
A filling?
Making space for something
that has no presence
no weight bearing

Raise balled fists high
and whisper
I am okay with this
I am content in this

the only thing these days i do
is watch my reflection in a junkies spoon
turning away before i go too deep
yet crawling back as hell's urge hits me
i've watched more friends come and go
living fast while dying slow
waiting for the monkey on my back
to draw the last card from out my deck
i've bought this farm for milking blood
just so i will have enough
where i'll do it till the cows come home
or at least until i'm dead and gone
a partial shadow follows me
being only half the man i used to be
where the only thing these days i do
is watch my reflection in a junkies spoon