there is only one thing
I hate about myself
that pale, calloused patch of skin
on my temple
where the skin is all but worn away
where I bury my hardest emotions
and hope they never
see the light of day

you must write them on burning buildings
as screams and smoke fill the air
like a brilliant masterpiece of a Renaissance art
you must write poems
while your heart is breaking
and your tears soften the ink on the page
you must write poems while driving a car
As the excitement of avoiding a head on collision
floods your mind with adrenalin and excitement
you must write poems on mountaintops
swimming in the ocean or staring up at the night sky
you must write poems all the time
you must write poems while you die

my chest is straining
from the pain pressing on my lungs
my heart is breaking
trying to replace lost love
my teeth are grinding
holding back the hate under my tongue
what’s left of my world is spinning
and i’m fading away
losing all that i had left
for love

humans are complex beings
they can talk,
they can make tools,
and they can do just about
whatever they want
but they are born into a world
of luxuries and disappointments

Goodnight my love,
Even though the moon's
Greeting comes
to separate us,
I will always love you.
Our bond that was
Formed by Fate
Can never be broken
Because with each
Setting sun
You enter
My dawdling mind
And my heart begins
To sing songs
Like the birds of
early morn

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.