HOW DO I APPOLOGIZE WITHOUT MAKING IT ABOUT ME
how do i make you feel better without f-ing it up
HOW CAN I DRY YOUR TEARS
without invalidating you
WHY DO I ***** IT ALL UP
the first time you want to talk about you

HOW DO I STOP TALKING ABOUT ME

I hate this pill,
I hate these meds,
"Don't forget! Don't forget!!"
If you don't take them,
You're a disgrace to this earth,
Such a terrible person you are a scar on this earth.
But if you remember, like you can never,
That capsule will absorb all feeling.
It's not my heart that doesn't work,
It's these stupid medicine measurements.
Why do I have to either go through hell,
Or put everyone I love through it.
How is that fair?
I guess it's not.
Life *****, but I don't want it to end,
I'm still waiting to feel reality,
When does this wear off?
Will I ever stop being an actor,

And just be me?

Is it true,
That a man who yearns,
Becomes a man who earns?

I yearn for you,
More than anything else,
For your sweet tender lips,
Softy milky skin.

But I already earned your love,
So can I earn something for you?
I want you to feel safe,
And stop feeling sorry.

"There's a power in music!"
Right on,
We all know,
The power of song.

If we're left alone,
We'll tear apart each other like wild animals,
A love so brutally free,
I can't imagine any if it's not you and me,
Just wait till we can drive,
The backseat of your car,
And all the time we can get.

You look tasty in every shade,
So divine in reds,
So savory in blacks.

A sweet treat,
I love you,
In every little fantasy.

Nothing compares to this spring time love,
Except for one single thing,
The love we'll have in summer.

Yet, even better than that,
The love we'll hold in fall,
Golden and aged like the leaves of oak trees.

But no thing could be greater,
Than the love we'll hold come next winter,
Sleeping in, your warmth by my side.

I almost lost you twice this month,
Almost stuck a blade in my heart.

Tomorrow is March 15th,
A well-known time of bad luck.

I'll be looking over my shoulder every turn,
Be wear the ides of March.

This walls all talk,
These halls tell stories,
But they aren't legends yet,
They can't be, she isn't gone.

These walls talk too much!
These halls tell lies!
I hate all these pictures,
Memories stolen away from me!

These walls talk,
These halls are story tellers,
If I listen for long enough,
Will they bring her back?

These walls talk dispairingly,
These halls tell somber stories,
I passed another man walking,
Is he a loner such as I?

These walls talk of her loveliness,
These halls tell her story,
I listen to their songs,
And bathe in her memory.

A place where I feel safe,
Where my art is noticed,
Where I am somebody.

Raise your cup for a toast,
"I love HP!"

No more Monsters,
Sorry RedBull but you lost my brand loyalty.
I will no longer be drinking tartine,
All this caffeine makes me forget,
It causes problems with my life and love.
So I'll save my pennies,
To afford a moment of clarity.

I have this feeling of dread,
That the thing I love is loosening,
That it is going to fade away,
And take may happiness with it.

But I might be paranoid,
And a little out of my mind,
So before I put it out here,
I just need to make sure it's not taurine talk.

Things fall apart,
Breaking into slits and scars.
You miss the way it used to me,
You miss the feeling of you and me.
It's hard not to imagine how it used to be,
To stop the memories you can drink or die.

If gas prices taught us anything,
There's money in selling efficiency.
No one has a back to break these days,
Nor the time to do it.
I could labor in the fields,
Or click a button.
I still get the apple,
But is it truly the fruit of my work?

Wait? Is he still here,
Maybe he never disappeared.
He was here all along,
I failed to listen closely to the song.
When it echoes in my ear,
Silently I can hear those words reappear.
To think I thought he left,
Show yourself if I've found you yet.

I like music?
Writing is good too.
But music is the best,
I like listening to the records,
As they spin.
Art is nice too,
I like to paint.

If nothing else,
At least the spring is coming.
My soul may fade like winter,
But at least the snow melts.
I may disappear into the last breath of winter breeze,
Still spring is on its way.

You ran a blitzkrieg on my heart,
Invading like the Mongol's carte,
Menu of skulls and bones.

After your attack,
You settled down,
Sweeping up the bruise and blood.

Then you just left,
What? I thought you wanted this nation?
I guess not.

Blank canvas,
A bucket of paint,
I took that bucket,
And I chucked it.
Green blues until,
I had a landscape of Nantucket.
I threw the paint,
And just said '---- --'

H. In darkness,
R. shadows weave their silent threads,
H. whispers dance where moonlight dreads.

H. In light,
R. golden rays embrace the dawn,
R. hope reborn, the night withdrawn.

H. If I’m still broken,
R. let the wind collect my sighs,
H. stitch my soul where sorrow lies.

H. Laying despairingly in this life,
R. like a leaf in winter’s hand,
R. drifting lost through barren land.

R. Yet even roots in frozen ground,
hear the call of spring’s soft sound.
H. Through the cracks where teardrops fell,
hope still blooms, a quiet spell.

I find it all a little strange,
Little accounts popping up,
Always followed by the same users,
But still disappear by the end of the day?

Am I crazy,
Or is this strange behavior result of the events of lately?

My mind is an enemy of mine,
Filling my head with worrisome thoughts.
'Are you alright?'
hm
I guess I'm not,
It feels a little normal by now,
Where'd my trust go?

---
That's the thing we sign on a poet's grave
That is the symbol of death we know in our language
Every dash etched with the weight of an iron cuff
Have they lived long enough?
No I'm afraid they never got their time to shine
Before their art's demise.
---

If she is not beautiful,
Nothing is,

If her eyes are not deep,
Than the ocean is a puddle,

If her kiss is not a blessing,
There is no magic in anything else,

If her taste is no wine,
Than no drug will entrance me.

Do not tread here,
Not on this land.
These grasses hide graves,
This dirt is a death-land.
If you must walk this desolate space,
Step carefully, travel light.
If you're not nimble,
This journey may be your last.
Adding another body,
To this grim grass.

Last night my poem hit 10,000 degrees,
Does that mean I burned myself a place in HP?
Or am I still on the path of becoming,
Hoping to get a lucky stroke and blow up?
Almost everything I post gets a reaction now,
I'm a name people know,
But does that make me somebody though?
What if I'm an actor,
Just playing his part,
I'll disappear when the director yells, 'Scene!'
If my art is recognized,
I've accomplished something real,
While living a dream.
But I am author enough,
That I could have a career in this?
Or will I start this journey,
But hear them yell, 'Dismissed!'

It's all a little weird,
The way things fall into place.
How life seems to catch us,
When the time is just right.
Life found me when I was glum,
It told me to write.

I remember joining,
Like it was only yesterday.
That letter of acceptance in my email,
I felt as if I was a master of writing.

But now it's been months,
And I've loved every minute.
For poetry was a fine wine I could not afford to enjoy,
Now I swim in it.

Let's play a game of guess who,
They've got HP riled up,
My poem blazing on the front page,
So many supposed alter egos I can't even count!
Did you get it?
My person was, Paul! Paul?
Who even is Paul?

I give you rides in the winter,
When it's too cold to walk,
My mom is always saying how cute your clothes are.

My Grandma wants to meet you,
The girl that makes me so happy,
Does that mean they'd except you as a member of our family?

Romeo and Juliet were wed,
But they didn't make it very far,
Let's be married by the river,
I'm sure we'll last longer.

If I lived in the Song dynasty,
I could be a leader in government,
All their leaders had to be able to write poetry.

What is this thing called poetry?
Is it words on paper,
Lined up nicely,
Rhymes assembled tightly?
Or is it a little deeper than that,
Is poetry a feeling?
A little flutter in your heart,
An echo in the fabric of your soul.
Maybe it's a small candle spark,
Flitting in the dark,
As you sleep peacefully.
So what is this thing we call poetry?

If there's one thing I take away from this,
It's that you need to be a free thinker,
And make your own decisions.

If you want to believe something,
You should look into it first,
I don't know the people this may hurt.

500 poems,
I'm proud of myself,
I'm proud of this community,
I'm proud so many people are willing to show support.
I'm happy I found my way here,
But I might take a break,
Don't want to ruin a good thing.

What if I'm wrong?
What if I'm on the wrong side?
What if they're right?
And they did nothing wrong?

Maybe I need more proof,
Maybe I need to let this go,
I want this to be a safe space,
I pray for a safe HP.

Is there a way we can have peace,
Where no one gets hurt anymore,
Is there a way we can have peace,
Without tearing apart HP?

Everyone is out for a monopoly,
Military, gas, or machinery,
We all want the same kind of green.
But me?
I sure built a monopoly,
But mines of monopolists.

Where is Elliot?
Where are the moderators?
How come Truth and others,
Work in plain sight,
It's so obvious, we all know.
Somebody must deliver the killing blow,
Who will slay these monsters?
I have not the power alone,
But I have a will to dethrone these evils,
And make art safe again.

I am no fool,
Not a person to by played with,
You cannot trick me,
Expecting to get away with it.

But if you dare to do,
I will dare to challenge you,
I prefer a battle of wits,
To see which of us wins the day.

To my dearest monsters,

  I hope this letter finds you on the brink of your doom, rotting away in your sinister cave. Because it's what evil like you deserves. To rot and woe, to know the pain of fading, before you fade away. Because your longevity is short lived, for most of you will die come first daylight.
  I hope you know, there is no home for you here. But if you try and build one, It will be burnt down. Every scrapped cinder and discarded log crushed to black dust. The substance of your soul, you're made of cinders, burning away at the human you once were. And if no one else will stand against you, know I will. Don't mess with fresh fire, lest you get burn away too.

                                                                                    Sincerely, I.

How cruel is reality,
I loved Truth,
An idol of a speaker,
An intelligent human being.

But maybe not,
Maybe he really was an evil thing,
Maybe they were all right,
The questions just pile up.

Where did he go, why did he leave,
Is he coming back, or gone for certain,
Was he really a good person,
Or was I wrong all along.

They tell me,
The other girls are much better,
For making love and such.
They tell me,
You should get some curves,
A pretty girl with a neat wardrobe.

I say slander to that,
I say take that back,
I'm not in it for love making,
I'm in it for life making,
Her body is an art,
Nobody appreciates,
But she's my favorite painting,
I stare into her eyes,
Wonder where she got that beauty.

In the dark I find myself empty,
Devoid of thought.

Devoid of feeling,
Reaching for something,
Grasping for anything.

Devoid of peace,
Hoping this feeling will pass on from me.

73 drafts,
73 finished poems,
73 pieces I can't post,
73 plus instances of 502,
Bad Gateway.

Room temp black tea,
Jingling house keys,
Little whispers of morning trees.

Quaint feeling of tranquility,
Walking among the preserved fall leaves,
A small nip of chill in the breeze.

Wake up in the morning,
Grab my cap, tie my shoes,
Get in the car, can't wait to see you.
<3
Get dropped off,
Walk into the school,
Wait in the cafeteria for you!
<3<3
Wish you didn't forget your hoodie,
Grab mine, I don't need it,
Get some breakfast and go, I love you so.
<3<3<3

The world sleeps silently,
Yet not for I,
I wake on this cold breathy night.
Wind softly hushing my stir,
But it can't hush the thoughts in my head,
On this lonesome night I am awake.
Eyes glowing wide,
Bearing witness to the stars tonight,
My soul tied to the spirits of those who lie awake too.