even with all these voices in my head,
im still lonely without you.

An unsatisfied disfunctional
Smoking in the rain

Siting all alone in a puddle of his pain.
No umbrella to shield him, just walls to drown him.
Anxiety and fears surrounding his screams in a muffled muse of fright.

I slid into a time portal that turned into a home.
I hid the lessons I forgot to learn underneath a rotting poem.
I leaned against a no-one and found out who I was.
I did it all to feel alive,
and/or just because.

My dad is so proud because I'm going to university,
My mom sees hope,
And my sister looks up to me.

I'll become a doctor,
and my mom will tell her friends,
I'll have kids and a husband and take antidepressants.

I want to die so bad sometimes but I'll never take that leap.
My life is a promise to them I've still got to keep.

Going through the motions,
Without looking back.

Stop

Take a moment.

Reread your past,
Relive those fleeting moments that won't return.
Revive you.

Step back into your moments of hate,
of love,
of happiness.

Feel yourself take the time machine back
into times of crises,
times of confusion.

Look.
Look at who you have become,
the tragedies you have faced,
and the strength given.
the joy you have experienced,
and the memories to remember.
the love you have shown,
and the endless amount yet to come.

Your life is precious
Take time out of your busy day,
and check your archive.

Reflect, Remember, *Reread

There I was in Heaven
Playing a game of Ping Pong
When I got a call from God
“I have a job for you going
Down to earth
And be born again.”
I protested “last time I was
On earth
There was a war on
I was hit
By an arrow in my chest
It was painful.”
“You have to”, he said
“A newly born needs a soul
Before you know it you will
Be back up here again.”
Gave me a hug he did
I'm still waiting, I forgot
For God time is meaningless
As he dwells in the abstract

i like angry poetry
the kind that churns
in your gut,
with razors for teeth
and gums bleeding.
i like the violent sound
of verbs clashing
on a decaying page,
like the shot of a gun
on a quiet day.
i like the poetry that stays,
that lies in waiting
like a dog in a cage,
words that creep like
voided birds into the
wired tress of my brain,
that pay their rent
like drunken travelers
and trash the place.
i like angry poetry
the kind that sears it's
screams to my lips,
which spirit echoes and
moans for eager,
****** eyes.
words that hit like *****,
giving their reader
a killer hangover.
i like angry poetry,
the kind that leave you
with a smoky exit.