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The sky drew open grazing curtains of light.
Marching across the hills with new mornings rush.
Albert awoke darkly from the dreams of his night.
And sighed for his laments now lost in the brush.

Albert made way for time to move on.
He had reached the age of eight and bore a fine skew.
made life with his friend Liz and so on,
To live so secluded in this strange world anew.

"I'm up Liz. Do you have food I could eat?"
Albert asked with a polite sense not too cool nor too hot.
"I'll prepare it now, Driyu." She attended his need.
"Thank you." and he spoke words yet untaught.

For a moment Albert watched the woman standing up.
A lady with wolf ears sprouting from her head.
A fuzzy wolf tail he felt looked quite odd to its puff.
And a kind countenance that brought love to her stead.

"My name is Albert." He spoke once again.
For the thousandth time past from when he could speak.
But unto deaf ears fall his words of a friend.
To a mother who's mind to his truth would not speak.

Albert went out to their yard and began his alien ritual.
Of movements so fine and sleek in their practice.
From the warm up, to his muscles to stretching residual,
The struggle to become stronger, Albert could not lack this.

With every hop, bounce and strike the pattern went on.
Albert long had grown numb to the sight of his clownish dance.
Liz watched on from inside, spying to her moves unknown.
Then her patience for this spectacle, her patience did not last.

"Why do you do this? My boy, why train to fight?
You would do better to study my writings I have written.
By learning and study, may your future be bright,
Rather than by sword where death walks unbidden."

"Training and studying are only together strong.
Without the body the mind would be wicked and cruel.
It would move without fragility or care of its wrongs.
And without mind, the body walks, a blunted tool."

This boy she had raised and would continue to thus.
Felt closer to a man from his birth made deranged.
By a past she did not know of a life he would not fuss,
Or share amongst them both and would so remain.

On the day they had found each other by the river sat along.
Where she held him and took him and found a shack out remote.
The house that they lived would stand alone in the throng,
Of luscious green land kept their lives still afloat.

"Driyu why do you train? You still have not answered me".
"I want to grow stronger, to keep alive best I can.
This world is, was, has and forever will be,
The hell of a home for the unprepared man.

Being weak is a sin, being dumb is a joke.
The words of a fool would to me always say.
"If you don't do as I say, watch your efforts become smoke"
So to defy others, even you, I will not change my way."

"A child should play and not worry of such things."
Albert could not let that thought be given rest.
"I am me and always me. My thoughts worry brings.
But you are right to say anxious thoughts are unblessed.

The fact is I enjoy it, I like feeling progress.
And how much stronger and faster I'll be.
Like a wolf on the prowl or the shadows caress
A scary big burly man being all crazy they'll see!

Stomping the ground and masses alike.
All falling under King Albert the emperor of all.
The greatest tactician and warrior of might.
And when all has fallen, the last guy they call."

"A wolf on the prowl, what does that mean?"
"An insignificant noteless figure of speech Lizzy."
"Driyu I heard it, play with me not coy."
"With utmost respect and love, I am busy."
6d · 29
Meeting A care
A day later, Albert still laying on his back.
The sky shifted and upended in its mood,
It moved from a still to a crawl to attack,
As the sun bore into Alberts eyes drew.

There was no sights to be had as they closed now unseen.
Paintings of life in the ill mannered dark
Dread and the feelings of anxiety it could bring.
A single point of hope at an insignificant spark.

The weepings and moanings of a woman in the light.
Unknown and just heard as Alberts eyes held shut.
"Why do you hate me master. For your whip to scar so tight?
I can't stand why it is me you would cut.

I can't be here, I can't stand it. I cannot believe I was so dumb.
To think a thing such as I could be loved.
Were I a more courageous woman with fortitude to come.
I would end my life and see my parents above."

Albert heard the words, he heard them quite clear.
They pierced his heart like bullets shot close.
While love of others meandered, it would mingle and steer.
To him and this woman, it glared on as its foes.

Albert exhausted from hunger and in dire straits.
He clicked and he cracked as his voice at a choke.
The unduly silence was met in its pace.
As the woman into the river would go.

And Albert turned his head, he looked at the ****.
Of the water made open by her gait.
He felt and he hoped, with his heart in a trash.
This woman would not die in the waters gate.

But the quiet would linger and the bubbles would stop.
He felt darkness crawl into his heart.
Alberts eyes would close promptly as he began to sob.
And the moment of this cold depart.

Suddenly! He disappeared from view as a wish was made.
The baby boy had crossed to the sea.
And again he appeared with soppy woman bade,
"Wake up" as no words left his mouth would be.

He stared on with blank thoughts and a feeling of empty,
He layed on his belly and watched her eyes cry.
The death she had wanted and prayed as a plenty,
And why she had come back on the grass, "Why.

Why am I breathing.  Why can I see.
Why is my body so tired."
The end that would befall, the end that couldn't be.
As by Alberts strength, her life is not retired.

But he watched and he waited.
She lay and she cried.
There eyes met and she was sated.
By her baby savior she relied.

"Hahaha! How? How could you do it? How could you save me like that?
It's not possible but no one is here and I'm here.
Baby boy, what have you done to keep me on this flat?
I don't understand. I don't get why you would care."

Albert could not speak as he was an infant, but his eyes,
His eyes betray the calm delay to emotion of an adult.
From words spoken, to feelings taken to what we use as a guise.
Albert shifted his view to the water, than back without fault.

"Can you... Understand me?"
Albert without thinking nodded his head.
The woman sat with cynicism underneath that tree.
Mind on her matter over the dumb words she said.

"I don't know if you can but I'm sorry.
I'm sorry you saw me do that.
I don't want anyone to see me and worry.
I'm strong and these feelings I combat."

As she lied to him, Albert understood and did not fight.
He did not cry nor laugh nor believe her absurd.
His heart tore at her words so sincere in there bite.
Of emotions unshared, Of horrors unheard.
In a place he did not know, the birds sang out.
Where Albert lay still, clear amongst the reeds.
Hurling the thoughts in his head as they moved on about.
Mind the small human as one amongst the seeds.

On the side of a lake that tranquil waves cross.
A man of wonder moved and crossed his path.
"Here you go Albert from where I did toss,
From the starry heavens into this earthy strath.

You cannot speak now as you cry little babe.
But your story is not as bad as it seems.
And you will do as I speak, by my right you are swayed.
From eternity in bliss to a life in the weeds.

I have a goal to achieve, and I hope you can help.
But enough of that now for the time will come too.
And time, I have, for you to grow from a young whelp.
Because still I know, life will keep driving you.

Now I want you... To remember what it is you had lost.
And liven your spirits for this is not the end.
For my purpose you live on, this life your resource.
Though you will probably fail and from this will descend."

Abert listened to the words with protest then so still.
As the dawn of understanding met closely his eyes.
The wetness of his cheeks, the sadness so fill,
And unwillingness to accept this man and his lies.

But like the wind on the hills, he disappeared to the greater.
"I am Loki." though this name served to none,
but a passing thought right now, an obsession  for later.
Albert waited as his body cried out for someone.

Anyone to hear, to care and to hold.
With grateful irony he giggled into his new life.
His needs unmet now, the same as his old.
And he remembered, he remembered his pain so rife.

"Brian and Kate. Where were you today?"
The old Albert had asked knowing the answer.
The answer was away, hidden and not to say.
As Albert was left all alone in that manner.

"We were hanging out. What are you doing?"
The emptiness in Albert grew at what he had heard.
The woman he loved and the times he spent cooing,
And his best friend still along with her words.

"I was hoping to hang out. I had another fight today.
My father and I will no longer talk.
The path he is on and mine long since fray.
We no longer by each other will walk.

I'll be around but not so much.
Consider my time with you here has been taken.
And without parents will be alone as such.
And I am still a little worried and quite shaken."

Albert felt the hug of his friend, the warmness of her arms.
And the hug of a man he began to hate.
The times of this abandonment played as alarms.
And he had believed the pain in this dream to be fate.

Albert did not want to relive his memories true.
Even in the afterlife they cut into his heart, so deep.
And just one of these felt, but many more will too.
Of the void carried on inside him to keep.
Mar 19 · 27
My heart
I had a dream of you.
This was different.
In it you snubbed me and acted as if I didn't exist.
In a place I don't know.

It made me hurt.
That dream is our reality right now and onwards.
It may seem obsessive, but I am still grieving us.
I don't feel that loss of you going away anytime soon.

But I will stop writing poems about you.
I had a thought as my heart broke for the thousandth time.
That I had done my best with the tools I had.
That a relationship without a future has no need for a past.

I'm sorry for everything.
I loved you. That's the fact I can't forget.
Mar 18 · 28
Beckon
Beckon the lost soul.
Come to where we lay the wreath.
For your endless pain.
Reward the end of your grief.

And Albert moved on through the sky.
Where choirs of angels sang.
"O' joy welcome, the soul" they cry.
"Welcome Albert" their voices rang.

"To the kingdom of heaven you come,
Bearing tidyings of love to him on his throne,
Where his glory will fill your heart, strong one,
Come, to the kingdom of heaven, rest so,"

And the angels, with their robes and halos,
they viewed Albert as a noble son to be praised.
Their faces, like his, like the humans that lay low,
Beneath, as his beloved, ripped from him stays.

And on an endless expanse of white, Albert steps.
The singing lows to a hum as he walks.
To a small gate, like the one to eden I suspect.
Where an old man waits at the fork.

"Not many people see this young man,
you are here to be judged for your sins."
"And of the crowd, around, are they part of this plan?
To see my past before me, torn out from within."

Click, his fingers went and the angels were gone.
In a blink they had left from his sight.
"I don't enjoy hurting a fragile man, so calm,
be calm and don't worry, nor fight.

I am merely an observer who listens and will speak,
I suspect you're a man who tried his best.
I have faith you will be given a chance at the peak,
To enter. Now, to the rest."

Albert clenched and unclenched his fists, but did not find the strength,
to move from one spoke to the next.
To pass on from this life, and move to the penthouse.
And take his place in the eternal breast.

"What is your name?" the man asked.
"Albert, and yours?" "I am Peter.
I am serving as the eyes for the kingdom of heaven.
And for you, consider me your praetor."

"Like an administrator?" Albert asked, his eyes feigning interest.
"Exactly! Like one of those with a process to follow."
"I see." Albert said. And with that, he was silent.
And Peter began, aware of Alberts heartfelt sorrow.

"You are guilty of many, but proven false in none.
Your story is not one to be ridiculed or held,
In contempt, I find you quite lacking,
To love, I see in your body given to dwell."

Albert began. "I have betrayed, I have hurt, I have lied.
I have done nothing to deserve a place amongst the stars.
I feel I have done everything wrong in my life.
There is nothing to be proud in those memoirs."

"If your story were different, I would agree.
For now I can say that's not true.
But arguing is a game for fools on the ground.
So, with passage, to heaven I grant to you.

With serenity you accepted your mothers cruel words.
With courage you faced a fathers wrath.
Your own friends, you decried, but you fought and you loved.
And to their fates, I have no kind words, for what they have."

An angel believes that Albert is worth saving.
Albert believes he is wrong.
And even Peter could not stop this fate that was caving,
Into a hole in Alberts mind made unsound.

But Peters eyes had risen to above.
As a single black form in the white.
Was looking back down, unflinching to he,
who would judge those souls on their flight.

And he raised his hands as his the angels had appeared.
Their armour clinched up in the beyond.
And a flash of darkness, stole sight from the heavens.
And Albert appeared by a pond.

The end was not there.
The flight was at an end.
From where had Albert been thrown?

To the confusing becoming,
of a baby lay bear,
Albert, on his back all alone.
Mar 18 · 25
The lost
"Where did he go?"
The one who asked the question.
He does not believe it so.
That he should move to the next section.

From the heart of a mother.
To the love of the son.
And the bond of his father.
Brought together into none.

Albert did not live and love,
from the beginning of his life he kept,
And himself was made safe through the rough.
Only by himself, for himself had he wept.

And when he was known to be gone.
There was almost no one to weep.
And the few who shed tears, some.
They knew his broken heart would not beat.

It had lived with a hole,
so open and bleeding.
And in his words, it did show.
A friend to hold it closed he was needing.

And the books in his house were of adventure.
The thoughts on his head were of struggle.
His poems published online of indenture,
That his unwell mind was mired in trouble.

And they spoke of a girl he once knew.
And the investigator, most likely, he thought.
"I think Albert took his life, and he threw.
And with that, a lot of trouble for us he brought."

Albert never wanted to bring others trouble.
But it seemed he couldn't help it, even when away.
And as the papers were brought to a file and wrapped in a bundle.
The case was brought to an end that day.

But Albert was alive and with a stumble.
He was here now, he was here to stay.
Mar 18 · 21
Alberts lament 2
And he walked. He entered the dim night.
On a still dare to clear his head.
Thoughts and anxiety bound and tight.
He moved as if knowing that he had been misled.

The bright town of shimmering lights.
The cars that bleed into the street.
Focus past from thoughts on heights.
To the walkers and ghosts that move on the creep.

Albert brooded through the park he walked.
"Falks Ave" where stood his homestead.
Clothed and hidden, his own head distraught,
Thoughts left unsought, words left unsaid.

Where eyes of musty grey show might,
And intimidate the passerby refuse to look,
Upon him, a man of ultimately dim sight,
Friends left unmade, hearts left unshook.

He sees a memory of his own and quickly looks away.
As the shade of a man who already knows his past.
That the history of his lost heart and his present lead astray,
Wounds left untended, Love left ungrasped.

The sound of a train moves distantly so.
Albert sits at a bench and huddles in the cool.
"I don't wish to be here, and yet I still go.
To soothe my soul by looking as a ghoul.

Lonely and cross at what I can't know.
Thinking if I stay here forever, I'll be in the ground.
But I just don't understand why it happened to me."
Help left ungiven, Answers left unfound.

His eyes assess his condition.
The park at his back, the road to his front.
He thinks of an old superstition.
That maybe he just wasn't enough.

That life simply moved as fates hands dictate.
And he is but a puppet being played on his string.
To move through pain and pleasure in his state.
To ultimately be gifted with a gods own blessing.

And then the world shook.
And he didn't know anything.
Mar 18 · 20
Alberts lament
Straightening files and writing names.
Of fables, tales and speeches of unseen.
Where word of the fantastical align with his aims,
So there sat Albert, finding what he could glean.

"Where does the light go from here?
Where will I be when I die?
I wish not to be in hell, no line will I do there.
To heaven I feel most unlikely for I.

Juniper... I wonder where you would go.
Where the world would have you be.
I wonder to which place you would sow.
I wish you were here with me."

The poor man continued his sorting.
His plans, his ideas and their action with do.
And when all with which shined divine, became that reporting.
He took all with a sword to keep and run through.

For the words in the paper.
The lines in sand.
Wash away with lies much greater,
Than truth unable to stand.

Albert looked at the cross, he studied its wood.
The smooth lacquer that bore his touch.
And where the lines of his studies, of all that is good.
Turned dour eyes as a crutch.

"Where does god to be with man, hold in esteem?
The frontward facing pain in my heart.
Of a woman gone, folded in the seems,
Of a world that is tearing me apart."

He pondered and drew yonder to in a sigh.
And there was no one to listen.
And there was no answer from on high.
And so Albert moved on, he moved as if stricken.
Mar 17 · 25
L to A
"Reg, J

From where I sit, you seem troubled.
An affording further, thee,
Your heart belongs to another.
And yet you temper to remember she.

With whom there was a love.
A love, of which you lost.
And yet breath, of memories no more.
Sprinkled with **** and you call it gloss.

You bear such trouble, such aimless need,
For one of whom hates you so.
But death is such a boring end!
I want to know how far you'll go.

So I make an offer, I won't lie.
Find me where eyes are lathed in greed.
And I will appear to you, but once.
And arm you with what you need.

To run your foolish errand.
And continue your forsaken goal.
When me and my brothers laugh at you.
And how much suffering will take its toll.

O' cursed soul, how much I see you weep.
But know this idiotic cause quite just.
Because the divine will blame you as the world cannot take you."

The final line of this poem is lost.
Mar 15 · 27
Baggage
Vibrant mitochondria.
Stretching from the dark.
Action a bad idea.

Memory haze.
Into the fiery depths.
I grudge on in chains.

More than a life.
Pine trees ask where she is.
Miserly moving through most nights.

A kind idiot asks "why?"
Without future, I need no past
To where desolation lay, I do not shy.

Here we find her grave.
Onerous and false.
Where I remember and find what to save.

So, my personal ghost.
The real one is out there living her life.
Seems you still want to play host.

My former love, what shall we write today?
I pull at this rope ladder, adjoining these cliffs.
Umbridge with my crawl to the other side.
Myopic days spin the wheel, sputtering in fits.
Arms and legs of a forgotten bride.

Feathers of a bird flutter to the bouquet.
Jumping at the opportunity of a happy lucky life.
Dwellings shroud the ghetto in dismay.
And you went home without me, to your side.

Feels good to get it all out.
That without you, I feel a broken man.
Tallow and sloth from me you are without.
Your impression of me a ghost, a memory and as well, a brand.

Frontward we walk at the same goal.
But without eyes there is no love I could know.
My very depth, my heart beckons your soul.
And yours deaf, as its silence tells me to go.

Like petals falling on the ocean.
My thoughts of you still linger on.
They fight, they coil and in motion.
Rest in the words of this psalm.
Scry, the telling of a broken heart.
In a distant past where hello sounds.
Fear, the coming coldness of a flood.
And her echo likeness in the crowds.

From where do these feelings come?
Mind the gap, it's where my dreams had once reside.
In guilt, my memories of moments some,
And in ghastly poems I confide.

Have you not felt as I do, idling in the screen?
See these collapsed surroundings in mine broken eyes.
Of a future not hoping, of a life unseen.
Where I decided to break a heart, and say my goodbyes.

And the last one to say, I couldn't have known.
In three years the bullet finally struck my mood.
And when I spoke, the love I felt had been sown.
To the darkest moment, silence drifted in the gloom.


I'm sorry. I will be sorry until my death.
Mark the moment of an arrows strike.
Pull back, correct the stance and calm your breath.
I can only let loose and redraw, start a new page and rewrite.
Calm and collected in the cross breeze.
Listening to voices of wind whisper your name.
I pray a day will come.
Where I am to be unbound.

And behind me there is,
Where moon-drops fall from your sacred heart.
Lay the bindings of your soul to mine.
Decaying on the wrought ground.
I am a complicated human being.
I have been called cruel.
But I wasn't born this way.

I have been criticized and made into impossible situations.
Made certain to never trust the ones I love.
Gifted social awkwardness that stems the branch.
From a group of friends who didn't want to associate with me.

I didn't make the choice to be a ****.
I just had parts of me that were pressed and forced into it.

I am an anxious person.
Called weird, alone, unattractive and lazy.
And only my huge ego could weather the storm of those opinions.
I grieve the humble kid who couldn't survive the abuse.

I am a complicated human being.
Made complicated by difficult circumstances.
And in the end, I hurt a lot of people.
I made a lot of people very uncomfortable and blamed them for it.

I lied and I cheated.
I hurt and I blamed.

I don't curse you for not wanting to be in contact with me.
But I think I know why.
That you no longer love me, that I will never stop loving you.
I was a bad attachment, while you were precious to me.

And a toxic man is easier let go than a caring woman.

I'm a better man now.
I can trust and defuse difficult situations.
In addition, I study and continue drawing insights.
I've a great worldview and have not found inconsistencies.
I accept, let live and care deeply.

It would have been great to go on a few fun dates!
The me of now is a bit better at these situations.
I still struggle with many things, but my achievements long outweighed them.
My feelings have not changed.

You are the reason I am a better man.
I think it's a little odd that your absence was the initiator of it.
But maybe it was a catalyst in a brew already awaiting reaction.
And if I never see you again, my value for you will never expire.

It's the water in the lake.
and the waves crashing in the sea.
Where multiples and coefficients dance.
And the world turns around to laugh at me.

What makes bluebirds spur to fly.
And spiders crawl into the dark.
The comfort brought from a loved ones touch.
And their desire to never be apart.

Where the tide rose and eroded the shore
Remain the furrows of you and their long depart.
Clinging on, the desperate soul weeps.
For the hopes and dreams of a cruel heart.
Dec 2023 · 110
My Anxiety Attack
They crept and crawled behind the rocks.
Eliminating innocents as they went.
Hiding in the underbrush.
The unstoppable force in the middle of the night.

The sentries see movement but can't pinpoint them.
They are everywhere.
Enemies in the left, the right, the remote camp and the pass.
Tension as the moment before a great battle.

First came the rocks, the spears, the guns and then the missiles.
A hail of bullets, mortar and firebombs.
The radios are jammed and no one is spared.
It's a simultaneous attack on all fronts.

Totally paralyzed, the commander lays flat on the ground.
The enemy are not assuming control.
They are entities of pure violence.
Every kick and every punch reverberates through his body.

And they vanished. As if never there to begin with.
The land is scarred, the forest is ash and the last defenders are scrambling.
It was as brutal as an avalanche.
It went as quickly as the wind.


The general wants to know what happened, but he knows best.
He knew it was just a matter of time.
Until a thought caused a memory cascade.
The crack in his mental **** brought about the tsunami.

And it was love.
It was love unfettered and bludgeoned that held a knife to his throat.
Love sent the message loud and clear
That it would not be ignored.
Dec 2023 · 693
The story of you and me
"She might come back."
"She might see these poems and think of you."
"She might unblock you on facebook."
"She might send you a message on hello poetry."

These are the words I sometimes hear and tell myself in my head.

But the love of my life left for another guy.
My hatred has evaporated into exhaustion.

I am a very tired man.
Ready to watch the world spin until my life expires.  
That's where our story ends.
The story of you and me.

The sharp serrated words that hack away my hope.
My empty eyes glowering at this memory.
And I take a drag, breathing out love and loss.
All the while dressed in detachment.
Dec 2023 · 333
The rivers reflection
It took every mistake in my life to bring me where I am now.
And you were with me, even when it was bad.
I took your love and abused it.
On nights like these, it's a horrible time remember my tears.
Nov 2023 · 379
The many skins of me
Hey, I'm your ex.
It's been a really long time since I talked to you.
How are you doing? What has your day been like?
Do you think you'll want kids soon?

I've been doing hard of it.
I don't think my days can continue as they are.
It feels like no matter how much I try to change.
I can't quite move from where I start.

The weird part is, you don't know me.
I was an abusive ***.
And right now where I am, I can't reconcile him.
Who you fell in love with from the past.

But I'm still your ex and I miss you.
I wish we could talk a little more.
I never did quite get over you.
Though, what you did rattled me to my core.

But I don't blame you.
I have long since moved on from that day.
I thought you still loved me, and, well, I was wrong.
I have never been able to trust what people say.

I've tried to get in contact.
My messages to you receive no reception.
Scores of poetry line a man with a traumatic past.
Who never received, even an ounce, of physical affection.

My actions are still respecting your wishes.
When you wanted to cut me off.
You told me so, to leave you forever.
Divide the sea from the whorf.

I looked over some old messages from you.
Its really frightening how I had put on such airs.
I never trusted you, but I grew to, somewhat.
It's a shame I couldn't give you my soul to bare.

I never meant for it to be this way.
I feel like I couldn't have done any better, anyway.
And I'm just telling you, as I had before.
The man you knew, is not the man I am today.

He is so far divorced from his honest feelings, he can barely grasp them.
He is so stressed by his past, he can never confide in.
He is so untrusting of his relationships, he could never partake with.
And he certainly didn't receive the help he needed, as it would always deride him.

As I struggle through my recovery, I can't help but miss you.
Well I always have.
I wish things weren't the way they were.
They do make me very sad.

And they remind me of all my betrayals I ever felt.
Not that I made it easy.
And for you, I certainly did not.
My hopes were dashed that you would ever see me.

I'm not a bad guy, I'm not a good guy.
But I try my best, always to be honest.
I think if you knew me, as I am now.
You would know, to love you always I have kept my promise.

But being kind isn't all that special.
And being deep isn't all that rare.
And these qualities of me now, you found somewhere else.
And so this regretful loneliness I bare.
Nov 2023 · 138
Hallow within
There's a hollowness in me.
It spreads out from within my heart.
It bends the mind and breaks free.
And causes my relationships to break apart.

There's an emptiness in me.
It's the touch of holding hands.
It's my head resting on your shoulder in relief.
And the loving embrace that holds till the last.

There's a missing piece of my mind.
That knows how to ask for a kiss.
That discovered love when he was blind.
And he asked for help when his life was amiss.

There's a missing piece of my soul.
That couldn't tell you how I felt.
And I fell apart when I thought about that hole.
And think suicide is kinder than my hand I was dealt.

There are mistakes I continue to make.
They affect me the whole day through.
And on my life, I do stake.
That to myself, and of you I was always true.

There are people who are gone.
And whenever they hope I am happy.
I can't help but feel my mental scars on me adorn.
And think "They cut me off and act so gladly."

There are many fights that I'd avoid.
And avoided with everything I could.
As push me a little more, I'd crumble, destroyed.
And fall, so much more easily than I should.

There is an age that I would reach.
And as time moves on I would move further again.
Every year, I'd thought there would be an intimacy I'd beseech.
And when they tell me "Hold on" I say "Till when?".

And there are people who hurt me.
And more people who think it just.
That I fall from my high horse, free.
And crumble beneath them like dust.

And as my life continues on.
I hope it not draw to a close.
Before this missing piece comes to me thereupon.
My life moves on from this morose.

There is an empty man who cannot see your charms.
As he never knew how love functioned in the first place.
So please, before you see my indifference or carelessness as weapons-of-arms.
Know I can't help it, as I have no parental love to trace.

I have no lovers hold to remember.
I have no emblazoned kiss to my name.
I feel the absence of any caregivers love, so tender.
I feel myself fail again, just the same.
The story of partly, why i am what i am. Why I struggle with attraction and physical touch. Why this thing called love and *** make me uncomfortable. And why the whole love ordeal I struggle so much to understand. I have no template. None.
Oct 2023 · 96
A woman I loved
I dreamed about you again last night.
I cried and wailed in your embrace.
When the clouds drew rain from the sky.
As I awoke, you left no trace.

It started without much involvement.
The love i felt would always grow.
I miss her gazing visage and wish to hold it.
And let my feelings, once held back, flow.

I loved you because I grew to love you.
I had no template or care for me in my life.
I was not attracted but attraction grew too.
And if you asked, I'd give up everything and into love with you dive.

But your only flaw seems to be quite evident.
You want truly nothing to do with me.
And I know, I know I have come to accept it.
But the pain of "I love you forever" I told you is quite weighty.

And the pain of "I love you forever." is a promise that hurts 4 years after you cut me off.
I don't know how you say "I don't love you." when you made that promise too.
I think you believe I lied about everything and nothing was genuine of our talks.
But I told you the truth so we could actually start off, together in tune.
I know it's not the nicest but, I'd visit you in Thailand in a second. Well about 2 weeks if you'd only ask. It's not too difficult now.
Sep 2023 · 210
A bit too late
You gave me so much love.
I turned away and left you so many times.
And when I slowly wanted to make a connection to you.
I was too late, you had turned away.
Sep 2023 · 133
I get it now.
I was an abusive *** who betrayed you.
So you put me out of your mind like a bad trauma.

A few months of love.
Could not make up for years of intolerance.
Sep 2023 · 89
The story of you
I hope you can forgive me.
I was never meant to be the man you met.
I was a kind child turned into a monster.
Who had to shed his skin.

The guilt of having a future with you paralyzed me.
I was never deserving of someone so kind.
My betrayal and our inexperience ruined the relationship.
But only I have to suffer being alone.

If you don't think of me anymore.
Then you will never hear from me again.
But know you have bewitched me mind, body and soul.
And my love for you will always be there.

Maybe I just wasn't even that much in your mind.
Or maybe the abuse made me too duplicitous and bipolar to remember.
And though these poems may come across as two faced.
They all tell the same story.

I believe this will be the last.
Sep 2023 · 85
My favorite part of you
I think the reason I find it difficult.
To get over you.
My favorite part of the past we built.
Was talking the day through.

I could listen to your aspirations forever.
And how we charted course.
Through the life once pointed at me, now sever
Its love from her source.

As time grew on, I found courage to speak.
Words from a darker time.
And work through to meet you at the peak.
You with me, our hearts design.

I loved to hear you talk of your life.
I adored to hear your thoughts.
And the goals you set at such a height.
They dazzled me to know of sorts.

And now you're gone. But I...
I only wish you could have known me.
From weeks, from months and from years went by.
A lot changed over the open sea.

I am a new person, an ever changing enigma.
And my love for you, boundless as the story you sing.
To know me now, when I held that stigma.
Oh, what skeptical words you would bring!
So, this is what I felt. This never changed.
Jul 2023 · 209
Message to a girl
The key to happiness is self-expression in a safe environment.
I offered you that however, it is not unique.
There is another man who can offer you that.
It is rare, but it is not impossible.

I, given my multiple interests will have difficulty.
If I wrote all my interests on a board, no one I know could fill half of it.
Except you.
That is where I am. Stuck in a place of unhappiness.

Congratulations.
You were right, I would never meet anyone like you again.
And there wasn't a single thing I could do to stop it.
Lessons I had not learned, could not be used after the event had taken place.

It's warm in this place.

Like the last breeze fades on a clear spring day.
The stillness holding between the hilltops
The empty wind dying above the fields, in the city, on the rivers.
On a world I could not change.

Of a girl who can be herself with someone else.

Maybe that's fine.

As your scarlet letter folds into the crowd.
Of a face I am struggling to recall.
But the tears that I shed for you will not stop.
And that is all of my findings of our story so far.

And every new poem I wrote here for you.
I wrote when I learned something new to archive.
And I hope they reach you someday.
So I can be surprised.

So my framework view of this world can be changed.
And I selfishly hope I can express myself again.
In this message to a girl who will never read it.
That the experiment of us can be undertaken with the findings made.

And I might show you, that I'm not a manipulative narcissistic ****.

But only actions prove that, not words.
Which is why I post this here, where you will not find it.
So I can respect your wish to cut me off.
And at the same time, write my findings, that they might one day prove useful.
This is a message I wish for you to read and know will not be read. As long as it is here, I have left the opportunity for my goal of it being known to be achieved.
Jun 2023 · 675
Without Wings
Dawn

The sun crept from the hills along the roiled grey sky.
As the trees breathed deeply and looked to the pry.
Weaving through cries, the birds sang to their choir.
Through daylight flickering in the skew morning mire.

She walked along the edge of a streams moving shroud.
The light glazed and bled on her dress rich and proud.
in a valley so serene where goodness was spent.
From the dream where it droned in winters lament.

But her body moved onward into the story cast.
By memories and true love thrown into the past.
Speaking forlorn of a man both withered and lost
Of mud in the streets and floods on the frost.

By morning it was over and our hearts had been shaken.
Not to know until later just what had been taken.
Like embers in ash it had wilted and drowned.
It started with a shout, it left without a sound.

And his eyes wandered about, they looked to the crash.
And his body fell over in the green wild brash.
Light twinkled on the plants, it spoke from the cinder.
Again, and again, it grew from the tinder.

Crackle and hiss, stoke fire to the furnace.
Until his heart was warm and warmly in earnest.
Where love moved and it rested upon the life in his chest.
And relaxed as it closed her sallow eyes on his breast.

It moved as he moved into the hot pouring blaze.
By holding her hand and pulling into the phrase.
She burnt and he bruised and she tried to defend.
But 7 long years till their "together" would end.


Mid-day


The wind billowed around her dress, her veil and her gown
As his ears were closed and his eyes cast down.
Binary, basic, butch and bouquet.
As her feet move through the bones that littered the fray.

The body that cried cold and scattered in the spring.
Grow old, grow young and grow old once again.
And bray the sky pleading for a woman in love.
Receiving but rain and not answers from the angels above.

He cursed on their name and found comfort in the bellows.
Where tales like his can be found in its Fellows.
They bind, they break and they loiter in its seems.
All to find comfort in his ill gotten dreams.

Where it spreads like disease, where it climbs in the sound.
Until his thoughts and feelings grew heated in the crowd.
As everyone could see him as the narcissistic clown.
And no one would want for him, but be cruelly let down.

In home, he weltered and continued to persist.
As his friends would disappear into the cool white mist.
While his hands would reach out and ask for support.
Before the chains of his past bound him deftly and caught.

While he pleaded and asked to be left alone.
For him, people could not have hurt but be sown.
And the blaze at once ardent could not help now be cool.
Where the bray of his heart quieted, admitted he the fool.

Night

For the hangman did say as he tightened the noose.
"Ye be faithful, be kind and know who you choose.
Be bound by your honor, be bound by a ring."
He knew and he felt the harm he would bring.

And even at the end, He thought of her face.
He felt the lines in her hair, her movement and grace.
The words of hers that allowed him to sing.
And no clue of the future, that it would never bring.

We could not have known how much better or gaunt.
The dire, the coldness, the tired or the taut.
The pleasure, the playful, the tension in her smile.
And resisting the urge to stay more than a while.

But time moved on and it moved without thinking.
And the man who he was was no longer breathing.
No one who knew him, no one could believe.
What the ghost of a mean person in love could achieve.

The one who he was, was far too outspoken.
And who he is now, was never more open.
When moon light would shine and the mist would recede.
When strength was his motto and not covering his greed.

The ghost moved through death and learned how to be a man.
And his foes and his friends knew where he began.
He did business in town, he did work in the wing.
And never more did he feel, like a puppet on a string.

And now she is gone and he knows that's okay.
And he thinks about it again, and he hurts every day.
While struggling to sleep, when heart shadows cling.
He wrote a poem to remember a woman without wings.
Dec 2022 · 183
Overbearing and Aloof
If you look hard enough, you can see the sun.
You can stare it at and its boundless white and black.
I challenged the sun to a staring contest.
The sun played ***** and went for the eyes.

When the fibers of my shirt stretch, I feel fatter.
When my jeans need to be unbuttoned in the car, I feel ashamed.
But my power will bend this metamorphosis into beauty.
Sometime... Sometime soon...

A woman said mean things about me behind my back.
I agreed with her but never spoke with her.
I discussed it without her and came to the conclusion.
That woman should never speak to me again.

I can't help but feel heartless when you say I am so.
There is a bad guy but he's not me.
The bad guy is the one who's disappointing me.
The villain is the person who attacked anyone in their vicinity to get what they wanted.

I know I'm arrogant and I know I'm mean.
There are tidal waves and earthquakes you could build a relationship on steadier ground with.
But my ground is unmovable. My decision unbreakable.

And you are the one I love most. Though, it seems you have done everything to strip me from your life. The most important thing, hidden without a proper explanation. I have lost, utterly and completely.

And even this poem could be drilled down to 3 little words. "I miss you."
Latisha obvs
Apr 2022 · 180
Unspoken Words/ Insult
There once lived love on this beach.
From hilltop to ditch, it wrote under dwelling.
Raining softly tears of regret.

There once lived love in this era.
Coalescing swarms of butterflies.
Drones in a no-fly zone.

There once lived love in this edict.
To your tender I offer the world.
An empty mailbox, a disconnected phone.

There once lived love given by me.
Flames of passion, lustful winds.
A wooden universe.

There once was love stolen to the void.
Every thought, image and moment trapped in a cable.
Painted faces on a spotless canvas.

I can no longer see you.
The bridge that we shared has been detonated.
I can no longer find the source.
These eyes frightened to find you, appraise every second, a moment of complete dread.
Rushing waters breath deeply.
Grasping, grappling and groping at the foundation of a life unlived.
Of a world unseen.
Of a fight not had.
Of honest words unspoken.
Cradle my bones that touch the sands surface.
Roost my dreams tightly bound.
Pitter-patter, the sounds of envy and jealousy.
Cold steel around your finger.
And pity the bird who called himself a snake and loved you more than a cohesive sentence could describe.
Mar 2022 · 546
Boundless Plains of Grey
Coated white in a black hall, I sit.
Bonded into this macrocosm bleach.
We are in motion.
Bounding through rough terrain.

Knots of terror swell like sunspots ready to flare.
Carry on, until the day is through.
I sigh and dedicate the universe to solve an insignificant issue.
A thankless job, I'm sure.

The seconds move outward as I muddle forward.
The price of gas is increasing.
Watch, my friend is melding into a tonalist canvas.
I guess he can make a family now.

Greet, Handshake, Impression, Tone, Work, Enjoy, Laugh, Graceful exit.
Calibrate, vice, heat, bend, join, twist, paint.
Right, Left, Stagger, Fall, Crawl, Crouch, Right, Left.
Grieve for the piece of your soul you left with her.

In the end, here I am.
Most people seem to like me.
And I ***** my next relationship.
How can it elevate my position?
How can I use this experience to defend myself.
How far will I see this out?
I wonder if Latisha will come back.

And I meander through the underbrush of my empty field.
This grey nothingness.
As everyone else slowly leaves me behind to pursue their friends.
And I press on forward, even if alone.
To the font of knowledge to repair my broken heart.
Mar 2021 · 201
Why I avoid latest
I can see why people avoid the latest tab
As it seems to be ******* about life.
And political or religious hatred.
You'd think 2.5 million dead people would make their hearts heavy with self-reflection

but it seems not thusly so.
Just my thoughts.
To where do those memories go?
My and your soft lips meeting.
Exchanging values and ideas.
But like a conversation gone bad, you had no place in it.
Helpless.
A genius walks a lonely path.

Did our parents really ever "get" us?
Or were they just unfit to even bear the name.
Scoldings, put downs and assaults.
And the result is a childhood of treachery and miscommunication.
Misunderstood.
A genius walks a thorny path.

Where does a broken child learn they are special?
Feelings of inferiority build architectural grand designs of mental illness and rotting relationships.
And who really survives growing up?
Except me.
Childlike.
A genius rejects adulthood to walk as a child.

Why do the divine watch us?
Is it to see us suffer? To overcome the pangs of suffering and torments?
Is it truly a godlike quality to forgive? When will that be me being taken advantage of?
I know when.
Solid.
A genius gathers no moss.

Will death come? Am I to respect such a thing?
Why would his hand touch so closely my throat, my brain and my heart.
Are the dreams messages containing factual information? Guides on life?
No, they teach us what we should be to death.
Respectful.
A genius bows his head to the dead.

What is the emptiness and fullness meant to be?
Will full people live on. Scraping by on whatever happiness chance chooses to make them aware of?
Will empty people believe all belief and concept is empty? A form of solipsistic ignorance of both destiny and loved ones.
To become full and empty.
Reborn.
A genius lives to burn, burn out and be brought back to life again.

What is a genius? From the brain of a genius? Eyes that can see through fraud and deception. Including ones own.
Yeah, I mean. Its decent
From where did I come from?
From whence did I arrive.
Was I 3, 4, 5, or 6 when my eyes could see things weren't alright.
Did the earth put me here to brings peace?
Does the bird think about its past nest.
Will the sea rise.
The sun explode.
And to where do I put my parents to rest?
Will I regale my children with tales of valor?
Will I curse their existence.
Do I deserve to be alive right now?

The bird does not let its past nest hold it down.
The sea will find a home somewhere else.
And I will be, just here. Breathing deeply, to make sure I'm still alive.
I dunno. Word salad.
Mar 2021 · 585
Forgetfulness
Sometimes the wind blows past my face.
And I ask myself "How come my dress won't fit me?"

Sometimes the bath water is cool.
And I ask myself "When will my job get easier?"

Sometimes I destroy old pictures.
And I ask myself "Will my brother be able to handle his responsibility?"

Sometimes lights scatter on my slender figure.
And I tell myself "I think I should draw now."

Sometimes people say things about being a happy person.
And I prepare myself "Work starts early tomorrow, I'll go earlier."

Sometimes I need to feel something.
And I state facts myself "That driver is a terrible driver, but I'm a good driver"

Sometimes the drugs i do make people ashamed to know me.
And I whisper to myself "Everyone around me is so stupid."

Sometimes people take advantage of my kind nature.
And I scream at myself "Ugh! Why is work so unbelievably inefficient."

Sometimes I remember I came from a broken home.
And my lungs burn with ash "But I'm trying to quit."

Sometimes I hide my darkest secrets of people who betrayed me.
And I wail at the ceiling "God this night is fun!"

Sometimes I dream about a life where I'm happy.
And I tell myself from the bottom of my heart "I'm happy to be who I am."

Sometimes I think about ending my life.
And I tell my friends "I need time and space to get better."

Sometimes I cry for no reason.
And my heart speaks to me "It'll pass."

Sometimes I remember my heart has been frozen for  decade.
And I pridefully spout "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Sometimes my nightmares give me anxiety attacks.
And I think "I need a warm shower to relax."

But tomorrow, after the dreams I can't handle have passed.
I'll forget a few more sad thing I've had done to me and have done to others.
And I'll echo the words of others to show them how stupid they are.
My heart will remain frozen to keep the few things I like about myself. Forget, forget, forget the memories that caused me so much pain. It's my only choice. Love, hate, pain, all of it has to go.
-------------------------------------------------------------­------------------------
Sometimes I think I'm broken.
And I have been broken many times.
And know he should have picked me.
Because I'm better.

Because I can control myself.
Just my interpretation of a loved ones struggle. It's difficult when I'm not working with all the available information and a treacherous wound of betrayal but. In truth, I can find solace.
I am not a brave man.

I am the face in a crowd that hides in plain sight.
An angel with baggage that keeps me from flying.
A heart so wounded, no kiss could ever heal it.
A body that refuses to say "I'm okay."

I am not a wise man.

My mistakes have cut both ways.
I have brought the world against me and my loved ones.
Always, my enemies are pushing me away.
Be gentle, you press on my wounded heart.

I lose things.

Friends I will never gain back.
Skills I could never perform without trembling.
Enemies who's insults won't be forgiven.
Words that refuse to say I love you.

I did my best.

My ignorance was turned to sunshine.
The anxiety has closed its eyes to the world at large.
I forgave my first love who moved on from my embrace.
My tears were clear enough to reveal affection from my hate.
Dec 2020 · 524
Riddles a stupid name.
****** words paint the flowers a crimson red.
A dove recites the end of all mankind.
Rounding out his edges and sharpening his knives.
Amorous lovers ride the wave of life.
Heart worms my body still tries to burn away.

Kindly, I delude god and myself into a dream.
Every mindless prayer, my secrets scream.
And only my love remains.
To this day, he accepts the woman he lost.
Opals eyes that cry remorse.
No reply.

I can live without the friends I knew.

And each and every missing piece.
Morose taxidermist lives her dreams.

Sullen chords play the lonely song.
And I tell myself that I am strong.
Do the roses in your garden look pretty?
To the one who's happy. Even if I'm not.
Man was made in our image.
With innocent eyes that sought lights embrace.
And nestled in the arms of darkness.
An empty abyss who couldn't help but stare back.

Man cried till he was content.
And his heart did grow through the suffering.
And he came to know happiness as well as sadness.
But his eyes, they spoke with love.

Man walked his path under a forceful guidance.
And he remained ignorant to the suffering of his bearers.
Fighting ensued as man found comfort under the many stars.
In the field, he fought alone against the sun and the moon, and he lost.

Rage begat man as he learned togetherness and separation.
The beautiful flowers flourished, and he felt himself no more than a lone dried ****.
So, he cut those flowers and boiled them to see how they taste.
Now, only a desert remained as man boiled each oasis.

Man ate and hunted every animal.
He used the streets built by others and ate the meals he begged for.
This lone warrior stared back into the abyss and saw light within himself.
The strongest man he knew was his darkness alone, and so fought him and lost again.

Man could no longer force his guidance on the world so for the first time, his angry heart steadied and he listened.
And man looked back to the loved ones who perished behind him and cried till he was content.
He slowly memorized each grain of dust that made up every little thing. Starting over again and again.
Eventually, his heart strengthened and pulled him to the shores of Nibana. And he was alone. And he was satisfied.

On this day, man closed his eyes and writ this poem.
A poem made only with his heart that he could never have envisioned with his meager skill.
But his heart that knew darkness, its light is refined and built up a little each day.
And his rest is well-deserved.

Even if the reason he's alive, is safe and satisfied with another man. For dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return.
Just a story I thought of when I thought of a girl named Latisha. My work is continuing well. As always, my choices are my own. Even if they seem a bit odd.
The sun rose out among verdant still hills.
High peaks, forests and earth stole their eyes away from this charade.
Strands of light refuse to illuminate me.
As the the play proceeds with divine authority.

Each bird is standing on its feet and spreading its wings.
Tigers brandish guns at their young, unaware of the anguish hungrily stalking behind.
And the men with hearts of black gold walk away with their heads down.
As we are all eaten away by ignorance.

The hands of fate stitch together a torn garment of time.
Embroidering its history of suffering.
But the answer to your questions won't be found in gods clothes.
There's a lot more suffocating water in this ocean than treasure.

But your heart withstood the weight of it all.
And its callouses grew over their shadows left behind.
But when it beats, I can still hear the screams
Of your abandonment.
Who knows. Probably just tryna write fancy.
Nov 2019 · 220
Staying Alive
It's a cliche to stare from the window, but I do.
Slipping through time without thinking.
The flowers are indulging the ground with life.

I am not so candid as to tell you why.
Voices ruminate outside my prison.
I wouldn't be so sad if this was the end.

I'm not calling to say I love you or I've moved on.
But that when the knife in my heart twists.
The pain doesn't really move me as it used to.

I might give up, I might give in.
But the calls from another world, they beckon me to"Keep smiling".
Perhaps I never should have reached out.

So here I write and release to the world.
So that the death grip on my soul will be just released a little.
As this poem has seemed to do.

I realize this isn't the ideal scenario, being so torn up about nothing it doesn't reflect on me quite well. But time will march on without me. And the stars will reflect our pie in the sky hopes and dreams. And the knife will stay in my heart to remind me of you and your betrayal all those years ago. And the poison will reach the earth I walk on. And all those nice kind loving things you say, the beauty of it all will one day be lost on me. But for today, thank you for reminding me that I can resist the pain that's meant to make me human. Until the dawn comes, I beg you to sleep. And not look at my face.

Please, don't see my tears. They are only per-cursors to that knife being twisted again. And yet, part of me desires it be twisted again so that I may see just how long it will take before I destroy this thing called "Friendship."
It is as it is written. Irritating to write it in tho, poems really shouldn't be written selfishly. It's just an experiment.
I had faith in your shame.
I had faith that you would not come back.
At the very least, when you broke my heart forever.
I believed that not love, but shame would keep you from returning.

I had faith in your violence.
I had faith that you could not apologize.
At the very least, when you hurled your abuse at my fragile ego.
I believed that not love, but the violence of your judgment would keep you from returning.

I had faith in your love.
I had faith that you would not ever confront me.
At the very least, when you choose him over me.
I believed not in your courage, but your love for him that would keep you from returning.

I had faith in your pain.
I had faith that you would try to talk to me.
At the very least, when I destroyed your heart for another.
I believed not in your pride, but the pain you continue to feel would scare you away from me forever.

I had faith in your fear.
I had faith that you would erase every trace of your existence.
At the very least, when you saw my months of mental anguish at your absence in those letters.
I believed not in your good judgment, but your fear of my "instability" that would close the book on you forever.

I had faith in your cheating.
I had faith that you would absolve yourself of all responsibility.
At the very least, when you eloped with your husband.
I believed not in your vows to each other, but avoiding a difficult conversation with me would let you be silent forever.

I had faith in your respect.
I had faith that you would believe in me to find someone better?
At the very least, when I told you we shouldn't be together.
I believed not in your tears, but your belief that I would do better would keep you from ever speaking another word.

I had faith in your insecurity.
I had faith that when you found out it was your fault, that was it.
At the very least, when you cried and cried after it was all over.
I believed that you felt you had to go. Knowing, that you could never return to what we had. After you broke it.

I have faith in my letters.
I have faith that you will never talk to me again.
At the very least, when you saw them you did not stir from your place far away from me.
I believed that my words would rouse the truth of why you left. Your silence only confirms that my faith was well placed.
I don't have faith in goodbye because I've never said it. I'm not so dramatic as to abandon or betray the one he loves like all these people have done to me. I understand why it happens, and I hate it but goodbye is not why these people are gone.
This isn't a poem that I could write easily.

It is but a reply to a kind girl I cherish. That I hope she never reads.

On awful days like this I think of you, though I shouldn't.
The spiteful guy who knows you betrayed him.
Should the book of life be written, I would argue it's pages to say you betrayed me.
Lo, the poison spreads.

I can't help that you are human.
That you were broken over and over again by your abusers.
And hate these arms of mine for being one of them.
Lo, the toxin wears.

I am a tired man who curses those to whom he protects.
When you smiled at me, I felt truly alive!
I have gone too long without that smile. It is kept from me and these loving eyes.

Because these eyes are killers eyes.
This heart, will rise again.
And my soul will corrupt.
The price I pay for being a big fat liar.

And the pain I feel for loving someone for whom it is impossible to love. One disgusting hopeless narcissist to another.

---------Thoughtful Strangers letter---------

If we meet, I'd like to watch the sunset with you. And call you a pathetic woman with no talent whatsoever at finding happiness. And a ***** who is so predictable, I could tell her future looking into dog **** rather than a crystal ball. That I actually wanted you to save me from the disgusting people I called family. And that unlike you, I was enlightened to understand just why I have to think through everything in front of me. I don't drink, I don't smoke and I don't do drugs like you because I don't have the luxury of serving my own purpose of self-satisfaction because this body won't let me. That you broke my heart when these, my only pair of eyes made you feel afraid when I looked at you in my most loving gaze.

Now I look into the mirror and see something disgusting that truly should not exist. So before I die, never feeling the touch of one who loves me. I hope you suffer. Just like I always knew you would and wanted you to. I hope you die ******. That horrible future I see is a lot kinder than the hell I've been confined too. Trapped like a cockroach. With a beautiful heart that poisons everything it touches. And hurts every time it remembers that he has no friends.

I can only hope it's easier not to care.
It always seemed counter intuitive to me. Why release my inner thoughts to the world, why seek people to read it when I don't want anyone to ever talk about it? The answer is sucky. It's because I believe there is a god who will answer my prayers to make this all go away. And I hope someone, anyone will want to be friends with me after reading this trash.
Aug 2019 · 270
Something about you
Make way for the bees.
There's too much to say.
Love once and forever.
Bleed out the day.

More happy than sense.
The future divide.
Between a man and his friends.
For him and his bride.

Low cost, low manage.
And family safe.
Party and make merry.
For our new home today.

Couples of fame.
Lovers of vice.
Homes that were broken, parents that fight.

But no bad ending and no fallout.
No lovers spat, no bad flake out.
It could be true love or it could not be.
But I've been left here for an eternity.

And so, she pervades and steals my friends.
And my disgust to her attends.
Blame me, or their crossed stars above.
But I blame the forgetful feeling known as love.
Not too bad. Not too BAD. Another rhymy one. if you like it, cool. If not, well sorry it isn't better.
Aug 2019 · 206
Worth his bread
Little words.
Crowded breaths.
See my hair?
Compliments.
Stoke the fire.
Rest the eyes.
Take the cake.
Eat it twice.
Lord the night.
Drown the years.
Forever more.
Forever near.
No trifle here.
But peace become.
Sat on here.
On our thumbs
Not much to say,
Not much to do.
Tv's how he spends his too.
Insecure.
Work to ends.
Lifes a trough.
Drink the *****.
Kids can sleep.
Dogs can lie.
Set the table.
Dress to style.
Out we go,
Once again.
To find a man,
Worth his bread.
I'm not sure about this but, I like it. I hope you do to. Made in a style like an awkward person who liked a different poem.
To be a man, is to face your fears everyday.
Carry this meat suit in a dignified fashion.
Question life and its maelstrom of sorrow.
Forgive the failures of others.

To be a man, is to protect your friends.
Hide your disgust at others happiness.
Move unnoticed through a crowd of people who struggle everyday.
Find, laugh and be merry with your best friends.

To be a man, is to know thine enemy.
Prepare for your future trials by training the body.
Always mistrust the ones you love.
Pretend to feel empathy and recognize their true intentions.

To be a man, is to control your violent impulses.
Never acknowledge the visions of killing that you see.
Hold back the feeling of tears when spoken kindly to.
Never help the destitute.

And when I stop being a man.
And the facade finally breaks.
And the families who stabbed me in the back, come for more.
And when everyone has quietly left me.
And I am now the destitute.
I cradle my body.
And tremble alone.
A poem I thought up. Very harsh, but very easy to relate to imo. Hope you enjoy it, though I wouldn't.
Mar 2019 · 417
Loves other half
I see you happy.
Flowers smile at the sight of a woman and her child.
God is proud of his world, as the angels smile.
I brace my chest and growl the pain away.

I see you eager.
Infecting others with a desire to please.
Breeze, the love you spread fills minds with ease.
I ball up my fists and dig my own nails into my hands.

I see you care.
The smile you give, the hand you extend. I could never repay such kindness again.
Forever I am lost, lost and in love. With a taken woman.
My scowl answers your extended hand.

I see you go.
And I tear every memory of you from my heart, and write it into a poem.
rough
Mar 2019 · 421
Avoidable Tragedy
I wrote a letter to you once and asked you if you loved me.
I forged a letter that said I'd love you to the end.
Grassy beaches and giving trees.
A mourner crying on his knees.
To the wife who told him "I do."

Faster than a moving train, unpredictable like the acid rain.
A tragedy I knew would come, but I prayed.
I prayed.
I prayed for it to hit me swift. A gentle nudge off a cliff.
But before I fell and broke my heart.
I prayed, to be loved.
A short simple poem of a tragedy.
Mar 2019 · 362
Sound of a dream
Screams echo madly.

To my silly little dream.

Falling teeth and eating phones.

I put the snooze on a hold.

Betraying all my friends tonight.

This dream will never be alive.

So dance madly and chaotic.

Dreams that last like a narcotic.

The caricature of a me.

Drowning and crying in the sea.

Playing soccer on the field.

Former lovers leave concealed.

From your smile to a frown.

The last breath before you drown.

But I see that everything.

Merely a silly little dream.

Crying tears, abundant tears.

As I wake up from my dream.

And feel my heart crunch.
Attempting to write in a similar style of
The truth behind a photograph BY CommonStory
Mar 2019 · 323
Connect
We never really did ask for you,
Souped up cars and ****** up avenues.
Shivers down your spine, over fined for the damage done.
Pay up. The greater good needs your wallet son.

******* parkour, running in the streets off,
The roundabout where a couple broke each others lease on,
Life. There ain't no harder calmer man who's fighting.
The parents he believed in, smoked out the lighting.

How could there ever live a guy who's fighting for the personal right to call himself his family that's split across the world.
Divided, the house cannot stand.
Invited to the worldwide plan to forget, integrate and live inside a computer world.

Nevermore to care, the raven leaves the planet earth to find a people who can feel for something other than themselves.
Singing little nightingale, posted in a video warns users, but his language of the heart doesn't sell.

Candid, Sanded and machined to a polish.
Words spread like a bacteria.
Myriad.
Your dearly sad.
I couldn't help but notice the monster I created. Monster see, Monster do. Promise you a monster too.

Snowy hills and lonely peaks, to 7 every day of the week.
It's cold to you. It's hard to you.
**** a little animal too relieve yourself.
Believe yourself, it should evolve to defend itself.

Softer hearts grow distant.
My parents wonder where I am?
I'm well enough, without a friend.
Better to observe than pretend. To be anything but what I am.
Confused about where I am.

You couldn't see beyond the brush.
Merry-go-around-the-bush-with-him-you-found-on-Tinder.
For­get that we ever said I love you.
Little more of a weird poem. Just here for anyone to see and understand.
Mar 2019 · 224
Disconnect
I made all these paper constructs for you.
To see when the rain,
Would soak through and make me wet.

The ground is low, for today.
He's feeling pretty glum,
I think he's got a fever.

When life comes to make you unhappy,
Just write you dearest wish,
Into a little jar.

Come here close and listen to me.
Secrets lie under a giving tree.
I cry when I sleep.


Snowmen play.
Roses whine.
The days are too short,
My sweet pumpkin pie.

No one did ask me what I had thought.
But I think,
My showers nice.

I play the radio real low,
To contemplate,
The Syrian war.

Here's the truth,
Don't ask me twice.
It's embarrassing, to tell you something nice.
My first loves a *****.


It's not very nice, to hate your friends.
Winter dies and summer ends.
Would your teacher ask you for a smoke?
Light it up like the burning sun.

Nervous tics and Irish bells.
Awkward laughs and dating sells.
Where did we meet? Don't ask me why.
I found you in the park underneath the sky.

Daisies past and a wondering breeze.
You have no idea what you mean to me.
Staring deeply into my eyes.
-Who are you again?


Multi-platform shoes walk again into,
Rivers flowing memories of you.
No one sees where the rainbow ends.
They told me don't ever be more then friends.

Candid words, wondering why.
This suit went well with a purple tie.
Council calls,
Deeper wells.
Have you seen my fat?
Raw emotion makes the weirdest poems
Feb 2019 · 354
To the you watches
Nevermore will the sun set on the day.
Dreamy blue skies smile, unveil and show mans dreams.
As your wafty blond hair lay woven between my fingers.

Sweetest god gifted to me, temptation.
I trust in the you that watches me.
Golden gates, your smile greets the world.

Knife edges, wounds and scars disappear.
The me that watches you is lost in those eyes.
Lay across the ground. Stare up into those broken dreams.

As the ground falls away, let me catch you heart and soul.
Nevermore to drown alone.
God kisses your sullen cheek, as the you that watches weeps.
Love, could I ever really compete? To the you who watches.
I will smile through each hardship, just so you can too.
It is actually embarrassing to write like this.
Nov 2018 · 360
My Cruel Truth of Self
To you, the one who is useless at everything.
To you, the one who is weak in front of everyone.
To you, the one who is despicable.
To you, the one who has no true friends.
To you, the one who is truly unique.

You will lose and you will fail over and over again.
You were not born with the things others have.
You will need to obtain them with your own hands.
And even when you do, even when you've struggled pathetically.
You will still be, just you.
It's not about insecurity. It's just, a feeling of being strong.
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