What's the point
Of living in a 600,000 dollar home
When you spend 40 hours a week
In an office

And two hours watching the television every night

I don't get Americans
Baby boomers especially

Forever saving for the future
They have to have it all
Never really seeing the present

Strange these people

This way is all wrong
Completely and totally wrong

They sacrifice their health
And drink coffee
Their whole lives
And take these pills

And it is all just *******

I will live frugally
And maybe one day buy an RV
And drive around the country

If anyone,
I thought you'd be the one to look past natural beauty
If anyone,
You thought I was special, and be there til thee
End,
Like a book case, filled to compacity, it's not the last of me
This isn't blasphemy, just a blast for you, and a cup of tea
But,
I was the sweetener, and the reasoner for this measure
But it's not up to scale, I'm on the rail, waiting for the weather
To,
Clear up, or whether or not you would to
My memory's hazy, and you're not too hasty to
The point it drives me crazy
Or,
Am i just an average guy
Who goes on every endeavor, so i can fly
With a halo, and some wings, when i die?

She jumps for the moon
Her only grief is gravity
Has a will of its’ own

The stars twinkle flirtatiously
Flaunting their love for her
Burning intensely with infinity
Making her yearn to burn with them
And within them

Fighting the will of earth’s
Gravitational field
She lunges again
Falling harder and farther

Facing a bruised bottom and much despair
She kisses the stars goodnight
And heads off alone
To sleep and dream of her starry lovers

Don't be mad, just feel.
Feel how I felt those days ago.
Don't care, learn.
Learn what you did so I don't have to say it.
Don't worry, realize.
Realize your wrong doings you didn't know before.
Don't say "okay," prove it.
Be a mature man and take full responsibility of your actions.
Oh wait, you're still a immature child.
You shouldn't be riding the big boy bikes if you can't handle it.

There is no need for
discernable lines
in the moment
I am content.
there is no need for anything.
but the moment.
naked & anxiously
awaiting reawakening
& my hands betray me
by shaking & blantantly saying
you've swayed me

it's crazy.

today I created nothing
& I am wasted anything
& everything.
but it's okay.
the mosaic is
a face faded
in the foreground.
this is fair ground.

today I'll walk on air
today I'll float on clouds
today I'll foam at the mouth

then I'll roll around
in my beloved filth
that you brought about.
be proud,
I can't be without it.

To write, or not to write.

That is my question.
My question to myself.

Do I write and keep hurting myself with memories?
Or do I sit tight and hope for the best…
Do I write and risk making things worse?
Or do I stop fearing being further misunderstood…
Do I write about the things I’m at fault for?
Or do I write about the things I’m not…
Do I write about why I did the things I did?
Or do I write about why they did the things they did…
Do I write in an attempt to make amends?
Or do I write to finally end it all…

But then again…

Why would I write?
What would be the point?

Would it be to try ending things amicably?
Or to somehow try to stay friends…
Would it be to try explaining my point of view?
Or to somehow try understanding theirs…
Would it be to point out the things I was trying to avoid?
Or to point out how they've ignorantly walked us all into them…
Would it be to understand why they blame me for certain things?
Or to explain why I blame them for certain things…
Would it be to point out how and why I broke for so long?
Or would they just simply not even care…
Would it be to remind them how they too have been stuck in a rut before?
Or would they just be callous and say that it’s different…
Would it be to try understanding if I was used?
Or would I just end up realizing for how long…
Would it be to find answers for all of the unanswered questions?
Or would I just be left with even more questions than answers…
Would it be to convince myself they’re a decent person?
Or would it be to realize they’re a heartless animal…
Would it be to understand what traps I’ve pushed them into?
Or to write about the ones they’ve pushed both me and themselves into…
Would it be to explain the soul crushing dreams that have been vividly etched into my memory?
Or to explain the countless sleepless nights for months, drenched in cold sweat, shifting from bed to couch to floor in my own home...
Would it even be worth it at this point?
Or should I just realize there is no way to ever trust them again regardless of all of the above…

Would it be to try and write a concrete poem?
Or to forget the rhythm halfway through and just get my thoughts out…

To right, or not to right...

I guess I’ll just write about maybe writing…