no, i will not take your compliment,
because i am undeserving of the words.
no, i will not take your compliment,
because when you say those things, it hurts.
it hurts that you waste your words on something,
that wasn't worth your time.
no, i will not take your compliment,
because you will not take mine.

Everyone tells you this.
And if you haven't heard the phrase yet,
Well, I'm saying it to you now!

But, WHY is life precious?
It's not like life is rare.
Easy to create,
Easy to ***** out.
So why does it hold value?

WHY is life precious?
Well, let me tell you, friend!
Life is what you're experiencing right now.
And I mean more than just your consciousness!

I'm talking about that friend you see every once in a while.
The one who makes you laugh!
I'm talking about that family member who cares deeply
Even if you don't know it!
I'm talking about that stranger who smiles your way as you walk past
Even when you feel sad!
I'm talking about that spiraling, shifting, cloud that is an experience,
Equally complicated for you as it is for everyone else.

Sure, life is easy to begin,
And SUPER easy to end.
But when EACH and EVERY life is so complicated,
THATS where the value comes in.
Because one life is different from another
In just the SLIGHTEST way, enough to make it where you can't get that life anywhere else.

So, life is precious,
because it's just so ****** COMPLICATED.
And when a life is removed from that web of connectivity,
it feels as if an entire balance is thrown off.
So, why would you end it?
You don't know what's going to happen next!
One day you could be down,
The next you meet someone beautiful,
or see something amazing.
You're never gonna know what happens next,
because with life, comes complicatedness,
and with COMPLICATEDNESS,
comes preciousness.
Think of it this way:

YOU are:

Perfect
Real
Exceptional
Caring
Intelligent
Open minded
Unique, and
****

And there will never be another you!
So, don't take that away from us!

"Who are you?" I ask aloud.
"There should only be one, but I can see two."

"Who am I?" You repeated my question.
"I'm the one who can never leave your side."

"If your here to stay," I sigh and sit.
"You might as well help me through this day."

"That's not what I do," You laughed and jumped.
"My job is to set up obstacles to drag you through."

"What's the point?" I tilted my head.
"We are one of the same, connected at the joint."

"No, we aren't." You rolled your eyes.
"I'm the one preventing you from trying anything new."

We've been together for four years.

After a lovely vacation on the beautiful island of Maui, Hawaii, I present to her a small, felt box, small enough to fit in my hand.

I open it.

A hamster the size of a thumb lays there, gasping for air as the oxygen comes rushing back to the tiny creature. His little lungs were straining with effort.

She gasped at the sight.

One would think that my decision to keep a hamster in an airtight box for no other reason than to entertain her would be an alarm bell of sorts.

It wasn't. Not to her.

She called me honey and named it powdered sugar, right before it scampered away, searching for freedom anywhere on this big sandy place, only to drown when a crashing wave swallowed it whole, mercilessly washing away its tiny footprints.

A better name for the hamster would be...

Our relationship?

Anyway. She tends to only call me monster, now.

If only she had heard the alarm instead of the wedding.

A passing                            friend
is bittersweet
because from day one
we are told
all good things
come to an end.

I didn't expect it,
you were so happy
yesterday,                             where
simpler times
rest.

I could have...
been better. I                           did
my best to give you
everything you
deserved.

You made me laugh,                you
silly, silly creature.
Where there was a lack
of communication,
It was made up in
understanding.

And I'll                                         go
back to my life.
At least, I'll try.
But when you made up
its majority,
where do I go back to?

Take a flower,
Keep it with you all day.
Eventually,
It will wilt away.
Take a flower,
Hold it close to your chest.
One day, you know,
I will have to rest.

But my garden remains
You're welcome any day
But you can't stay, no,
No, you cannot stay.

Take a ****,
You can hold it for a moment.
Throw it away,
That's the agreement.
Take a ****,
Don't think on it too long.
Please, you know,
Not to dwell on the past.

And my garden remains.
You can come in any day.
I appreciate the help, I do,
I do,
But you cannot stay,
You can't stay, no,
Please don't stay.

Take a memory,
Keep it with you all day,
Take a memory,
Then throw it away.
You can always,
Dig back for it.
But don't keep it,
Don't keep it,
For more than a day.

My garden remains.
You're welcome any day,
But you cannot stay.
You cannot stay.

You cannot stay,
In the garden, In the garden,
You cannot stay,
Because that's where I live.
You cannot stay,
In the garden, In the garden,
You cannot stay.

But I wish you would stay.

I say "this morning,"
But that would be a lie.
In reality,
It was this afternoon,
Shortly after I had waken up for the day.

I had him for
13 years.
13. The cursed, unlucky number.

I was into Tom and Jerry,
When I was 4.
It was a cartoon series
And it had a dog named spike.

So, we decided,
My dog could have the same name.
He was never more undeserving
Of the scary, tough title.

The first day I saw him,
He peed on my leg.
The adults told me
It meant that he liked me.

He was a sweetheart.
Kind,
Caring,
Silly,
Happy,
Fun,
And everything in between.

He barked at passing strangers,
And licked my wounds.
Soon I learned it wasn't only because
He knew I was in pain,
But because he simply
Liked to lick everything.

He was a rescue.
He wore scars on his thighs,
From fighting to get away
From his past life.
He was two when I was four.
He was thirteen when I, fifteen.

The last day I saw him,
He peed on my leg.
Not out of love,
But because he had a stroke
In my arms.

He died shortly after we drove to the vet.
My father told me to pump his chest.
I cried as he struggled to exhale breaths.
Thirty seconds later,
He stopped struggling.
Thirty minutes later,
We arrived at the vet.

And a part of me thinks,
It is completely my fault.
Because while my dog always knew
When I was in pain,
I failed to see his.

SSSSSSTEP RIGHT UP!
Come look! Come see!
Look at this creature here,
It's trapped underneath it's tree!

This tree, you see,
Is a tree of magical properties.
HA! Not really.
It actually represents mockery.

See how it looms over this creature,
And see how sad it makes it!
This tree is the source of its discouragement,
This tree makes the creature think it's unfit.

Unfit to lift this tree off itself.
Look how strong the creature is!
Yet this tree makes fun of the beast to the point, where...
Well, it believes it's too weak. That's crazy, it is!

Someone needs to tell this animal,
"HEY! You can do this!"
But, well, I certainly can't.
This is just showbiz.

if I popped a balloon for every time I felt
black sludge in place of where serotonin should be,

I'll have ruined my own birthday party.
...oh, where are the guests?
did I cancel on them or did they cancel on me?

oh well. I still have my cake.
my black, sludge cake.

It's easy to fall in love
When you've been starved of friendship for so long
You can't grasp the concept correctly anymore

You have to remember, my friend,
That sometimes
People are simply happy to see you,
And it seems as if
You've never met real people before

I make you laugh, you say,
I'm exaggerative and expressive,
And you call me pathetic
When I can't open a door

I tell you, you're strange,
But I say, "never change,"
And this will confuse you,
Because you say others use you,
And they'll accuse you
Of refusing to be normal

You'll say you've never told anyone before
Before I came knocking on your door
Coaxing you to be honest
Telling you that you're flawless,

This is because, dear friend,
You've never met real people before

I SPEAK FOR FIVE.
THEY DON'T ALWAYS ALIGN.

I speak, for four.
Talking, is a chore.

I speak for three,
They don't always agree,

i speak for two.
they dont have a clue.

i speak for one
it's not very fun

now i don't speak at all
i want my friends back

tick, tock. tick, tock.

hmm. I want pizza.

tick, tock. tick, tock.

I think I'm going to draw today. Yes, I'll do this.

tick, tock. tick, tock.

oh no

tick,

wait

tock.

i suddenly remember

tick,

i suddenly remember that life has no meaning

tock.

i suddenly remember that we're micro-microscopic

tickk,

microscopic in this universe,

toock.

this universe we know nothing about, and, oh,

tttick,

oh, i'm losing sight of who i am and where i am and why anything in this world matters and oh

ti-tock.

i dont know why my hands are shaking when i dont have a reason to shake them i dont know why i ask myself these questions when i dont have a reason to ask them i dont know why i write this when i dont have a reason to write them and i

tick?

dont know why i try when i dont have a reason to try and i dont know why i dont try when theres every reason to try but is there really and

t...tock.

what is a reason but something i myself conjure up out of little things do these little things really matter what is the quest for life other than a quest to release more happiness chemicals in our brains holding us away from the drug and

t-t-t-t-t-t-tick!

why do i live when theres no reason to live but why should i die when theres no reason to die and why do i lie to myself on a regular basis when theres no reason to hide myself from the truth but is

tatock

it really the truth or is it a lie ive lied to myself so long i cant remember because the only person who believes my lies

tick

is myself

tock

oh. the pizza is done!

tick, tock. tick, tock.

that's nice.

tick, tock. tick, tock.

i might make pizza again sometime

tick, tock. tick, tock.

your voice usually only has to walk through one door
to get its message across
the door being your teeth, of course

but my voice walks through an infinite amount of doors

and some of them lead nowhere?

some of them lead everywhere.

i'm not sure what the door situation is in my body, but

i know that my voice is tired by the time it reaches my teeth.

how am i supposed to go back to my life,

when i don't know where it is?

it seems i've misplaced it,

or maybe it's broken,

because everyone who once was in the picture,

i see lying shattered on the ground.

do i follow the trail of glass?

did my life get up and walk away?

what if i don't want to find my life?

i don't want to experience the shock

because when my life slipped away from my grasp

it left silently

but now, if i find it,

or rather, if it's forced back into my possession,

i'll hear nothing but screaming, and ringing in my ears

for the next ******* week,

because my life is like a sobbing baby

who doesn't yet understand

not everything goes it's way.

you tell me i'm lying
when i say i want to be alive
but that isn't true
i really do

when i say i want to be alive
theres a reason i say it
its me calling out
because being alive isnt what im doing right now

no
what im doing
is slumping around
afraid of real change
afraid things will stay the same

i do not have a ball and chain
i am a ball and chain
to do the bidding of certain people
at the expense of others
i am a ball and chain
when i am pulled
instead of going along
the best i can give you
is a slow roll

things seem so far away from you
far away from my face
is it real if i cant see why?
i cant see why i want to die

Why am I scared of passing time
Time passes, always, it can feel like a crime
A crime to take away fun memories
A crime to bury past mistakes
A crime to cease everything sensory
A crime to slam my foot on the brakes

It aches me to say, I don't know what I did today
Or yesterday, or the day before that one too
Because to have done something means you apply significance
Spoon fed your day a meaning like you do to food
But you can't always make a difference
You can't always change a day

It's a new day, it's a new year,
It's a new time to create new fears
While ignorance recedes, pain grows
Pain knowing that you can't expose
yourself to new ideas so easily anymore
Because this past year you've known
Known how hard it is to start something new

You tell yourself,
What are you waiting for?
And you reply,
I'm not waiting for anything!
So you jump into the first few feet of water
That's when you realize
You don't have anyone to help you get farther
into the ocean of new opportunities
And when you try to meet others, to say "hi"
You get nothing but cold water
So instead of trying again,
Trying so hard to make friends,
You simply step out of the ocean,
And into the land of wasted chances.

But, you're out of the water now.
So, why are you drowning?

have you ever put yourself in the middle of a toxic relationship?
what a curious question to ask,
probably not, no, no.

because you love yourself,
or at least, have the basic instincts
of self-preservation
or maybe you're equipped to handle these things
well, i wasn't.

being in the middle of a toxic relationship,
things tend to be warped.
you aren't dealing with an unstoppable force
and an immovable object
but rather, two immovable objects
and two unstoppable forces
simultaneously.

you're usually forced to pick a side
no matter how adamant you are about
how there is no "side", i tell them,
i tell them,
there is you, and there is you, and there is me,
and you've brought me here to help
not to harm
and the weird notion that there ever was a "side"
in something that is supposed to be a relationship,
is nothing but harmful,
detriment, painful,
unhelpful.

but, this does little to nothing,
because in the middle of a toxic relationship,
the two are worn down,
torn down,
stripped bare until you have their most inner instincts
their most inner thoughts,
their inner child,
and we all know
a child doesn't listen

in the middle of a toxic relationship,
the only thing they can seem to agree on
is when i'm wrong, when i've done bad,
when i'm in the wrong

but when you've been in the middle of a toxic relationship
for long enough,
it eventually wears you down, to the point where you're patience is gone,
finished,
extinct,
and eventually, you're forced to choose a side

when you're in a toxic relationship,
my advice,
is to run.

Don't you dare cry for me-
For I can do that myself.
I simply choose not to,
Because then you'd tell me
Your addicting lies.

an inside joke
we both share
i cant make it
because you aren't there.

I see a laugh
In my mind
And I say, "oh, how nice"
This laugh doesn't have a face,
Nor does it have a mind.
It was just a laugh,
It's just a light that I find.

But sometimes, this laugh does have a face.
But only for some moments,
And only very faintly.
Sometimes it looks like a family member,
Other times it changes to a complete stranger
But the face is always happy,
at least for the time being.

But I have yet to find a permanent face for this laugh
A permanent face to spend a life with
A permanent face that I fall in love with
for no other reason than
The mind laugh.

She wore a straitjacket.
It was a tight fit.
Writhing around, she begged for a knife, begged anyone who passed her by.
No one seemed to have more than one glance to throw her way.

This screaming, terrified woman, stumbling through streets and patches of grass,

She yelled for someone to free her. But the most intense emotion she's seen as of late was fear, and fear was an ugly color. She couldn't help but reflect it back.

She found her situation... tragic.

But, one day, someone finally tries to help her.

Taking a knife, this kind stranger begins to cut into this restraint she's found herself in.

And, instead of looking relieved, this woman screams louder, and runs away on broken feet. She runs away as fast as her starving legs could take her.

Because this straitjacket was made of skin.

The pain of metal in her flesh restraint, was unbearable.

Maybe once she's aware of the cycle, she'll push through the pain, to see her arms again...

Doubtful.

laugh in the face of
sickening doubt
because that doubt
is the one skeptic of your ability
to ever laugh again

He walked along my path.
He wasn't expected.
A variable I had never calculated.
His heavy, confident footsteps shifted the sands of my mind
And I find that not everything makes sense anymore.
I'm always covered in blood.
Sometimes it's mine. Sometimes it's not.
But he makes me feel alright about it.
All the time.

He stood in my way.
I had seen him around before.
I had never thought to speak to him, until then.
His precise, light footsteps left a mark in the mud of my mind
And I'm left surprised, shocked, uncomprehending.
He's always covered in blood.
He concerns me, scares me,
But he has a twinkle about him that leaves me wanting more.
And so I took it.

hindsight
is the ******* teacher
who tells you what you could have done to get an A
when you've already turned in your D level assignment.

have i learned anything?
we'll see.

you're obviously wearing a mask,
take that ridiculous thing off.
i will shatter the reason you wear it,
and drive you off a cliff,
watching you fall.

then i will pick you up,
and smother you with hugs,
because you didn't deserve my outburst,
only undying love.

The way everything else does.
Everything has a foundation,
A solid block to stand on.

Songs need a perfect string of syllables,
And a cool, catchy tune.
A book needs character arcs
And a story that can make one swoon.

But a poem chooses what it does,
What it says and how it says it,

w e c a n s p a c e o u t t h e l e t t e r s
OR TYPE IN ALL CAPS.

i                            to                                          of
  am       limited          the                     lines         the
      not                                  implied                                page

and i dont rlly have to use proper grammer, nessisarily,

Because as long as a poem gets across its message,
The "why" of it all,
Well, that's a good poem in MY book,
My book of feelings nailed in the wall.

A new year's resolution
Is usually made to better myself.
A new year, a new me!
A new way to set myself free!

Free of responsibilities, that is.
Because with new ways to better oneself,
breeds new excuses, new "oh, I don't have time for that"s.

Let's stop this.
How, you ask?
Instead of a new year, new me,
How about a new year, new you?

Instead of this resolution to better myself
I'll make this a resolution to better yourself.
Wipe away the tears of a stranger,
Wipe clean the slate of old grudges that cause danger.
The danger being, falling friendships
Because those are so rare nowadays.

And with every life I save,
With every smile I make,
I'll say, "Hey, I did that!"
"I made a person have another reason to live,"
"and in turn that gives me another reason to live,"
"just for them."

So, a new year, a new you,
A new way to laugh, a new way to choose
how to better oneself, how to better yourself,
And a friendself, and even a strangerself,
Because this kindness eventually...
Betters myself.
And, this time, it doesn't take much effort, either!

I might secretly be a snake

it feels as if I'm wearing my own skin as a mask

it is no longer my own

and no one wants to buy a used skin...

I wish a snake would tell me how to shed it.

but if I do, will I still be a person? will I still be the same?

I...

I suppose i'll... keep wearing the full body mask, and try to remember the mannerisms of me, so no one gets suspicious.

it's working so far.

but I think that's because the humans around me aren't looking for the right things, if at all...

I'd like to meet other snakes.

Well, well.
What am I experiencing here?
A growth in my personality,
Or am I reflecting my peers?

As a shy small bug,
I felt as if my mouth made no sound.
But recently, that's not the case.
It feels as if my life has turned around!

Because, I am no longer afraid of what I have to say.
I am no longer afraid of what's inside!
Because that fear has grown exponentially,
To become something outside of my own mind.

I am no longer afraid of myself.
No, I am afraid of you!
I am afraid of what could happen, yes!
I am afraid of what you'll make me do.

I am afraid of the dark,
Yet I simply won't sleep with light.
I am afraid of these monsters,
But if I live without them, I might die.
I am afraid of endless possibilities,
A burglary happens every fifteen seconds!
I am afraid of what you'll say to me,
If I tell you I am not perfect.

But, ha,
You already knew that, didn't you?
Silly me.
What am I afraid of?

The truth brings you a pain I don't wish for you to suffer;
Lie to me and tell me I'm beautiful, for I will readily accept it.

For someone who has such a way with words,
Who can ravel them around my neck and lead me anywhere;
You get tongue-tied when I show you the same talent.

if I peel back the skin on your face,
will I see a television screen
tuned to a channel that recently went down?

the tone of colorful bars and absent cables fills your head.

does my voice blend in with the noise, love?
i miss the times when I can tell you're listening to my nonsense.

it's nonsense baked special for you.

"they have no one to blame
but themselves"
is a common phrase
too common, too dismissive
it acts as a haze
a haze that masks the truth
that truth that maybe there is someone to blame
that someone is the one
who committed the ******* act in the first place.
"They were drunk and vulnerable, they should have expected ****"
Or maybe the heartless ******* shouldn't have broken trust in the first place.
"Drugs are terrible, they should have stopped before someone died"
Addiction is a disease, a plague, blame the disease not the transmission.
"They could've done this, they should've done that"
A victim should never double as the suspect.
So don't go pointing fingers in situations you don't understand.

words are strange things.
they're sounds we give meaning.
and when strung together a certain way,
they suddenly create mind boggling results.
seas of beautiful people suddenly turn sour,
mountains of angry humans turn around and pick flowers.
words are different everywhere you go,
and some words aren't even spoken with a voice
but rather a hand
its nice, i think
that we all give meaning to such sounds
they act as either a leash to pull you in
or a wind to blow you out

so schools starting up again,
we were out for winter break, in case you didn't know.
it's weird to have a winter break
but never see a drop of snow.

my backpack is empty
my sadness returns
seeing those familiar faces
makes my eyes burn

this isn't a sad poem, though,
it's just about school.
im relating to the young souls
who can feel this too.

because they know,
we really don't learn much
so why are we judged
by the grades we're forced to bring up?

why can't we be judged
by who we actually are,
instead of meaningless numbers
that spawn from meaningless subjects
that come from meaningless
noise

"Why can't you shut up?"

Says the knight to the bard
For the knight knows agony
When the bard sings his song.

"Are you mad?" asks the lyricist, expression surprised.  
"Anyone would be joyed to hear their battles become rhyme."

But the knight wasn't happy, for he knew the truth              
That the painful deaths of many men hid behind the tune.
That the failure as a protector would haunt him in song
That sleepless nights without father, husband, or son is what he did wrong.

A pessimist others call him, a realist stands true
For reality is too harsh to be handled by a fool.

We were a group of four,           where
We always got into trouble,
One way or another.
We could never be...
"The Good Kids"
For lack of a better term.

Something happened,
However,
To the girl of the group.
It's funny, she said she              did
Have a crush on...
You guessed it.
The talented one.

The other thing was,                  she
Was my sister.
And, although I was...
Worried, I suppose,
She never ditched
The rest of us
For him.

What's funny is,
The crazy one,
Was madly in love...
With her.
He's the one
Who gets us into trouble.
He always wants to...               go
Somewhere, do something.

He's also the one,
With a twisted sense of humor.
And, as a joke,
He said with a foolish grin:
"Play this game of roulette
with me, and whoever wins
gets to keep the princess!"        It
was a simple joke, with a
sinister meaning
Behind it.

We weren't Russian, so
Of course the Talented one
Agreed. It                                     was
A foolish thing,
What the crazy one did next,
But he didn't know better.
He pulled out
His father's old dusty revolver,
And shot Mr.Talent,
Aimed at the head.

It didn't go off.
Mr. Crazy was                              just
Dying of laughter at
Mr.Talent's face of shock.
My heart leaped, but
My mind told me the gun
Wasn't loaded.
It couldn't be loaded.
And by how my sister
Was acting,
She had come to the
Same conclusion.

Then, Mr.Crazy
Shot himself in the head.
It didn't go off, don't worry,
But then he opened the gun,
And let a single bullet fall
To the yellow grass.
He fumed.                                       A
Grasshopper jumped onto
The bullet and quickly
Fled as Mr.Crazy sighed.

"Well, that was no good.
A boring                                        joke,
That was!" He chuckled.
Us three, we were in shock.
Once again.
"How could you do that?"
Mr.Talent screamed while
My sister stared at the bullet
In horror.

Years later,
My sister ditched her
Husband, Mr.Talent,
For the exciting...
Mr.Crazy. I was...
Surprised.                                   I'm
Still surprised.
We were growing apart,
At this time.
I even lost contact
With her.
And Mr.Talent...
Attempted suicide.
With the old revolver.
I don't know how
He got it.
He left a note,
Saying he was                          sorry
To her, and to him,
And to me.

I stayed with him,
As much as I could.
My sister never made
An appearance.                         I'm
Still shocked at that.
Mr.Crazy only returned
To take his gun back.

And, eventually,
Mr.Talent fell into
The only support he could
Find, besides me.
That, was fame. I was                  Not
Surprised, then.

He pushed me away,
Saying he didn't need me.
Which, was a big, fat,
Lie, but at the time,
He convinced me otherwise.
I was moving, and I was             A
Little too far away to
Keep going to his place,
So I did what he wanted,
And stayed away.

The results weren't...                     good.
Reports of him being
Hospitalized, everywhere
I look. I didn't understand
How he didn't die, then.
I do now, but
That's another story.
Every                                                     person
Who knew I knew him would
Talk to me about
Going back to see him.
But I knew the journey
Would be empty.
So, I didn't.

And, as a reward for
Waiting, I suppose,
I was once again invited back
To his friendship.
The next day,
He died.

It's strange how everyone knows how to imitate a ghost
Strange how you never knew you could disappear, start anew
Away from someone you hated or someone you found in...

Distaste.
Disappear like that, skin faded, teeth clattered to the ground,
Feeling anything, everything but flattered by the sound.
Please, watch how your friends abandon you
because you're too loud

Mistake.
Is what you're called, silence by choice- you don't deserve a voice
It's what you learned. You're my friend, now. It's your turn, try me out-
I'm the only friend you'll ever need. Your first defense, yes

Don't protest.
Because it's really, really strange, my best friend, strange how you
Never learned how to imitate a ghost.

i travel along the page
    like i do in my thoughts
          here's a particular one:
              "i sit alone in a cot,
                   breathing air i just bought,
                         crying alone because i sought,
                                   to find the one who explains
                                                        ­               ...apricots"    
oh, it seems that thought
       fell apart at the end there
           but thoughts are slippery
                          and hard to grasp.
                                   let me try again:
                                       "i gasp at the sight
                                             of melancholy fright
                                                    it knows that tonight
                                                         ­       ...i like pink lights"
hmm. strange.
     are these thoughts falling apart,
                or are they just too eccentric
                                for me to understand
...probably the former.

The side of myself that loves you,
Isn't strong enough
To admit it.
The side of myself that hates you,
Is scared of what's to come.

when you're a part of something
it can feel amazing
everyone is so close together
everyone has a hand when another falls
and everyone is nearby to hear your call

but
sometimes there's a corrupt little bug
spreading its corrupt little drug
of negativity

and because we're all so close together
it's a ripple effect of mass proportions
and because we all feel together
we know
when someone almost dies.

i'm a reservoir of confidence
i keep it for those that i love
they draw it from me, no matter how much they say
i'm embarrassing them
because i make people laugh
that is the key to confidence
because when you laugh off any worries you had
you get pulled into the moment,
and forget what was bothering you in the first place.

i pledge to be a reservoir of confidence
to keep it only for those that i love
this reservoir will never run out
unless i use it myself.

he was a man with no shadow
and the light began to swallow him
whole
he couldn't see at all
he was a man who walked far
and the sand began rise to his
chest
he didn't have rest
he
    was
            a
                man
                     with
                            no
shadow
but this wasn't always the case
until he won the
race
everyone knows him
everyone feels like they know
his struggle
they grow restless when they see
his stubble
he
   was
        a
         man
              with
                     a
shadow
but that has been faded
to time.

I don't understand human nature;
But I do try my best, trust me.
Your emotions are endlessly puzzling;
And even more so when I feel your pain.

no one understood you
no one really could
i wish i could leave, too
but i don't know if i should.

                                        you had your quirks
                                        they made up your personality
                                        i now wonder if you lurk
                                        as a ghost in my morality.

it's a shame you aren't here
aren't with me till the end
but i'm still here
goodbye, best friend.

i had an epiphany recently
about candy

candy: a delicious treat that comes in various shapes and sizes,
all forms of it
maddeningly unhealthy.

i hadn't gone grocery shopping in a while,
so i was eating candy, because it was the only thing in the house.
it wasn't that i couldn't afford food,
it was that i didn't make the fact clear enough
that there wasn't any food left.

this isn't a poem yet, bear with me:
i went to a friend's house,
i was served something that could be considered "real food",
and I threw up.
my friend was confused, and worried.
i explained, i had a really sensitive stomach.
i thought it was because i was too full,
i had eaten m&m's for lunch before that taco,
and i knew i should have refused
but i didn't want to be rude.

my friend glared at me, and said:
"have you really ONLY eaten m&m's for the past few days?"
well, yes. it was sustenance, wasn't it?
i had to eat.
i didn't understand what was wrong with me.

then, she said:
"that's called starvation."
starvation? but i ate-
then i realized, she was right.
you can replace food in your life with candy,
like you can replace a friend with a screen,
or sunlight with a bright lightbulb,
or exercise with a single jumping jack,

and you can do this for an indefinite amount of time,
because you don't think too much about the replacement,
or the emptiness you feel,
the mysterious presence that isn't actually there, the opposite of a presence, you could say (if you'd like).

but eventually, if you don't get the real thing,
you'll die.

i keep my heart in my head
and my mind in my mouth
i keep my eyes on my ears
and my ears point south

because i know
you'll come from the south
im reading the compass vertically
not horizontally

i keep my friends in my heart
and myself in my head
i tell them i care with my mouth
and i stare with my ears
my eyes only see hatred.

A promise,
A sentence,
And a far away place.
Soft spoken words carry
Across several days.
This promise,
This sentence,
This far away place, (farther now)
States that you'll never fall flat
To the ones you amaze.
Promising this sentence
In a far away place (farther still)
Says the next time you fall flat
Should never happen.
If this does happen in another far away place (closer now)
The sentence dissipated, the promise meaningless.
Like it was never formed.
But there are ones who remember its existence,
Aren't there?

Looking down the corridor I see a
door that's being held open for a
man who wears two eye patches, a
frown seen somehow in the dark
outline of his silhouette-

I don't get how he's doing that, what? huh?

Tearing through the crowd of men looking down
I see a dent in the ground and I
narrowly step to avoid the
hollow tile, my eyes widen
I realize that he's gone-

Why was this man walking blind so strangely?

Then I see, everyone has left this place
I pace looking for a space to see
just how everyone has left me, I
can't fathom what magic, where,
where does this corridor lead?

The door reads: "To my friends I left behind."

How asinine.

where does one go to find
a happy place?
one of the most poetic places
someone could own.

but one does not own a place,
do they?
the place takes ownership of you.

so where must one travel
to be adopted by this special place?
what must one conquer
to have an endless supply of happy days?
what precaution does one take
to not be weighed down?
and how does one tell if this place
is real or fake?

places hold memories
they keep them special for you.
some warm, some cold,
some filled with malicious intent
some filled with terrible falsehoods
and regret, regret,
                                regret.
but others have this nice feeling
filled with nostalgia and yearn
yearn for days long gone from today

...is that where one goes to find a happy place?
a happy place in places where one was once happy.
it makes sense, just glancing,
but if you truly look
won't a happy place be sad
if you'll never be happy there again?