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There's no reason to deny,
That sometimes I cry,
And get in my head,
Have all of these thoughts,
As I go to bed,
Whiskey with water,
Whiskey with ice,
Whiskey alone will suffice,
3 am crisis, existential,
Remembering forgotten potential,
And squandered opportunities,
Changing communities,
Like at&t; to Verizon ,
10 new phone numbers,
And no one to call,
No one to text,
I wanna know what's coming up next,
I need a palm reader,
I need a prophet,
To tell me the future,
If I smoke too much,
Should I get off it?
So many questions,
A man full of mystery,
Who failed all his maths,
But passed all his history,
Wanting to change,
but haven't been able,
Walking on ice,
But haven't been stable,
Been a while since I wrote,
So many things to report,
But never the time,
I sleep when I can,
I smoke when I wake,
I drink when I write,
I drink when I don't,
I wake when I want,
I'll die when its time,
I'll live while I wait.
I'll try to do right,
This is goodnight.
Worrying to my hearts content.
A sinister sinner that wont repent.
And wont believe, what people say.
Some will suffer, while others pay.
And some will call you brother or friend.
Slander your name and extend their hand.
I believe that all men are evil and greedy.
Because we feed the rich and kick the needy.
Mow their lawns and cut their taxes.
Lets chop down this system with rhetorical axes.
Why blame the world when it is the corporations.
Is the world stupid or high off lsd hallucinations.
The very thread of this system is in tatters.
Left to die, but it never matters.
That the justice in this country is non existent.
****** is a crime, but getting away with it is persistent.
A real joke to the countries we disassemble.
And what do they resemble?
A power hungry democracy with no authenticity.
That favorites people of only one ethnicity.
While the rest are looked at as thiefs.
Broken bracnches, and sun dried leafs.
Thats all we are. The **** on the floor.
And people close their blinds and lock the door.
I am just so tired of being less.
Why does my life have to be a mess.
While John Doe lives so elegantly.
Im just fuming my anger vehemently.
Why wasnt i born with a trust.
Money is a terrible object that has become a must.
And its the base of all that is twisted.
We could have changed but then we missed it.
And i will tell you what is wrong with this generation:
Everything. we have been spoiled like surprise birthday celebrations.
And pouring thousands of dollars in my education.
I went and became an adult without any preparation.
And they never told me how hard it would become.
So im holding it all in trying not to come.
i dont have money for even the protection.
Taking a cold shower to lower my *******.
I am a product of this culture.
Scavenging the internet like a vulture.
And learning nothing at all, what is up with brain.
I promise i will not die in vain.
Not before i leave my mark on this earth.
Its Velli on my tomb but alejandro from my birth.
So leave me alone, delete me on your phone.
I am not the greatest but nothing is set in stone.
Fear life if you please.
But death needs not to be feared.
Painful it is not.
What is life but an ipod on shuffle.
Death is the end but never knowing what is next.
Love is the first song, but a violent crash is the scuffle.
The ill sound of silence interrupts the lovely vocal text.
Death in the headphones, abandoned by his compact muse.
Did he not love the sound that he found, his only abuse.

The scene of chaos unfolding in the mist.
Drums and swords, screams and spears.
The cry of battle as he curls a fist.
But then he stops, because he fears,
not ever listening to his favorite song.
Aye death is sweet but way too long.

Oh but man is flawed in the fear of a still night.
Where once he was born, is now quite.
But the shrill sound of the battle calls him to fight.
The danger is his diet and he joins the riot.
So he finds his strength a midst the battle roar.
And he finds his soul only to fight for more.
Winners and losers,
winners and losers,
That's all I can think of,
and that is honest,
when you really think,
that you just might win,
but you don't.
Feel the rage in your stomach,
the fire in your eyes,
the dryness of your throat,
the loss of confidence.
And suddenly you're shorter,
looking up,
trying not to get squashed,
and it's true what they say,
that you are your own worst critic.
Now you have two options,
quit,
and that's okay,
no one will care,
no one will ask you to comeback,
no one will cry,
but you could keep going,
trudge through the mud that is your soul,
fight through the rage that resides deeply,
and maybe,
if you don't **** yourself,
if you practice within an inch of your life,
and sacrifice the things most beloved,
lose weight,
your significant other,
your career,
your happiness,
but it wont matter,
because,
just maybe,
by some miracle,
by some sheer force of destiny,
luck,
and preparedness
you might come out victorious,
and then everything will be okay.
Have you heard that joke?
The one where you laugh.
About that kid who's broke.
I speak on his behalf.
To whom this may concern,
dont follow the leaders.
Listen and learn,
get rid of the heaters.
Sell and you die,
****, and you're dead.
Get shot if you lie.
Heard what i said?
I could be a child,
giving advice.
Or maybe some wild,
sinner full of vice.

What is an artist?
Does that mean you paint?
To me thats the hardest.
like blunt puffing saints.
They call me insane.
I call it creativity.
Left or right brain?
I'll destroy a literary activity.
To me thats artistic.
When i grab the pen,
and go as ballistic,
as a head-missing hen.

I'd write for the masses,
as if they could keep up.
I'll stop attending classes,
If my pockets erupt.
Im only one brick.
Ready to crumble.
Who is sick,
and ready to stumble.
Ready to trip,
and fall.
To slip and,
then crawl.
Then maybe i'll rise,
maybe i'll soar.
And i could surprise,
myself at the store.
And i'll drop 3 bills on jeans.
Just to look rich.
But I still eat rice and beans;
life is a...
A year gone by fast.
One more summer, ripened love.
The fruit of my life.
Some do it in four,
some do it in three,
some can't 'cause they're poor,
or they are like me,
might do it in five,
if I wasn't at war,
with my dreams and my life,
as I plan to go far.

Some place that is new,
but feels just like home,
with a beautiful view,
that will help my thoughts roam,
to achieve all my hopes,
and cease to be stressed,
to cut off these ropes,
so i'll feel like i'm blessed.

Somewhere out there,
is my cap and my gown,
I do not know where,
but I won't let me down.
Its been exactly a year.
since you almost left,
this world and my arms.
And i’ll never forget,
the darkness i felt,
when you were dying,
and i couldn't be near you.
I hated your parents,
but mostly myself,
I could have,
done something,
but then i just failed.
Those were the days,
that hurt to remember,
and are hard to forget.
I would go to bed early,
but fall asleep crying,
into a pillow that smelled;
just like you did.
So i cried even harder,
much more than,
i had ever done.
but i promised myself,
that you and i,
were not yet done.
but then you called me,
and i felt the life,
rush into my veins,
you had survived,
and that was enough,
so now every minute,
i lay by your side,
i count the seconds,
because they could be gone,
I'm tearing up now,
you’re too ****,
good of a woman,
to be putting up,
with my daily antics.
I cherish your time,
and all your affection.
I do not deserve it,
that much is too obvious,
but here you are still,
and im hopeful,
that you’ll stay with me longer.
because i could,
look under every rock,
in all of this planet,
and not ever, at all,
find you again.
Back on the road once more,
The smell of morning diesel,
Of men still hungover,
Black coffee,
No sugar,
Can't you see we're men,
A whole day ahead of us,
Hammer smashing against nail,
Concrete falling like a grey pudding,
Covering every edge,
Early morning, late evening,
Wife estranged,
Kids unknown,
A few beers after the chaos,
Some steaks with the boys,
The smell of barbecue,
Like bait is to fishes,
Hoping for the weekend,
Just to sleep in and drink,
Maybe fish, maybe hunt,
Maybe none, and go home,
See the girlfriend you call at night,
Buy her things she never asked for,
Do more in two days than others do in thirty,
But the Monday looms,
A great cloud of money on the horizon,
Asking you to stay,
But begging your body to quit,
You're a man now kid,
Act like one,
And take your gloves off when shaking hands,
Work ***** but look clean,
And tonight you buy the beers,
And don't complain,
You're a rookie, hands still soft,
Alcohol tolerance beginning to increase,
And the guys are there on Monday,
Bud light evaporating from pores,
Like condensation on soda cans,
Diesel perfuming the air once again,
Yelling, cursing, laughing,
Like concrete pirates,
Ahoy!
The captain shows,
To work lads, to work,
Hammers to nail,
Boots to dirt.
On the brink of extinction,
the precipice of exaltation.
There is no distinction,
just wicked sensations.
Mere fatal attractions,
that enquire, certain reactions.
Your body a feast,
in a platter so pure.
You could at least,
offer a cure.
Excuse the assumptions,
but don't look so scrumptious.

Toying with emotions,
like dolls made of plastic,
with those ungodly proportions.
Make a believer from an agnostic.
Legs so hard to refuse,
you could be a muse.
For some great addict-painter,
or animated suicidal-writer.
Those lips are a danger,
and those hips a lighter.
Ignite men's hearts on fire,
You pretty little liar.
You defy my existence,
And plagate my well-being,
I hate my persistence,
But you are not seeing.
That I am a man, so I hunger,
For treasures down under.
No matter how brief,
Or justly loquacious,
You are a leaf,
And I, an omnivore; voracious.
You dream to be eaten;
You sin-fruit of eden.

What hides within skirts?
Asks a boy when he grows.
Tempting with skin or with flirts,
A man always knows,
When to love or to lust,
And never to trust,
When they use us like toys,
Or those women who tease.
Men are just boys.
Smile and say please,
I'll show you the truth;
When you scream while I soothe.
Whiskey on the rocks,
make it a double,
I dont want trouble,
just a forgotten soul,
looking for truths,
trying to make memories,
like in the picture booths,
what I remember  don't make sense,
used to be a good seed,
graduated to bad apple,
pour water on my head,
some jack in my glass,
get my head out my ***,
staring down the barrel of life,
I've never known strife,
never known anything,
except that I know nothing,
and that troubles me,
sit down and shut up,
drink up with me,
im feeling melancholy,
thats another word for sad,
like when you leave home,
without your wallet,
because its empty,
my glass is full,
my heart is the opposite
and the ice keeps melting,
the rain keeps falling,
classes i keep failing,
here is a confession,
I make a horrible first impression,
never win concessions,
just eat horrible confections,
and I didn't care about the election,
Jon snow 2016.
Where will i be in 2016,
been five years since i was 16,
and havent changed since,
one procrastinating irresponsible excuse,
excuse me and pardon me,
just dont silence me,
that's in case I scream for help,
I dream of peace,
the internal kind,
not the infernal kind,
although it might be,
that my soul is wicked,
and my mind is twisted,
take my word for it,
or dont,
im just a human,
who thinks too much,
a thinker who smokes too much,
a smoker who drinks sparingly,
but sparingly does anything,
and anything is up in the air.
I hope you know,
you are my muse.
When you're away,
I have the blues,
When you don't answer,
I begin to fear,
and never stop worrying,
till you finally appear.
I miss you so much,
I've forgotten how to kiss,
Is it true,
that ignorance is bliss?
I rather not know,
how I would be,
if you weren't mine,
and standing right by me.
I try to tell you,
that you're pretty,
I'm your cuddle bear,
and you're my little kitty.
It is so weird,
I am befuddled,
its been a month,
since we have cuddled.
I hope you still remember,
how I look.
Our love is ageless,
like the words inside a book
Without you,
I am lost,
like a driver,
in the frost.
My life is just,
a beacon in distress.
I love you dearly,
and that I must confess.
#longdistance #imissher
As the rain does,
when the sun comes out,
I evaporated into the wind.
Only to come back again.
I saw the grass grow.
So bored i wish i had work.
Save me this torment.
I did what i know lament.
Now the sun sets on the east.
All is backward.
To drive or not to drive?
To die or stay alive.
I see this world so big.
Burrowed under boredom.
Take my life or take my soul.
but not before i empty this bowl.
Or take my fears, please.
Scared of things that make me smile.
I remembered i had to something to say.
I forgot the words, fell asleep and awoke yesterday.
The paint dried, how exciting.
My heart beats for no reason.
Or maybe it has one, who knows.
Life is *** and the summer blows.
I love this girl, too far from my nest.
Im blessed, i hope she knows.
How can she put up with me?
Im hideous and she cant see.
She is either blind or lonely.
Funny story, i passed my courses.
Life is a chariot with too many horses.
I've never been so stressed,
Born to Christians,
but never have been blessed,
Born to Catholics,
Never once did I confess,
But I now have a confession,
I'm not the man im yet to be,
Not the man,
My family thinks they see,
In reality a pretender,
In all honesty a ***,
Do not return to sender,
Do not ask me where I'm from.
Because I've lived too many places,
Shook too many hands,
Seen a lot of faces,
But never kept my friends.
A web spun by the fates,
But as of late,
It's just whiskey to the brain,
Old fashion's so I'm sane,
And too many cigarettes to calculate,
I'm just too drunk too operate,
Just imagine and I'll illustrate,
It's Saint paddys and I'm parched,
I grab a bottle for the thirst,
Its rough but it's the first,
And then goes down the second,
The third, the fourth
The fifth and then the sixth,
The room is spinning,
Face the mirror and I'm grinning,
Face myself but can't look,
Like the last sentence in a book,
I hope there's a sequel to this novel,
Maybe even a trilogy,
I apologize for my soliloquy,
But I do digress,
There are truths to confess,
I'd like to never be my father,
Or to have kids before I'm thirty,
I'd like a home that isn't *****,
And a wife that will forgive me,
For smoking like a chimney,
After all I'm only but a man,
Who makes mistakes along the way,
But the way to hell,
Is paved with good intentions,
and I intend to live in peace,
Somewhere quiet, full of trees,
Away from the noise,
Drugs, guns and the disease,
Call me what you want,
I just want to be at ease,
Head up high, stand up tall,
As I drop my demons to their knees.
I am not a writer,
no i am not.
A writer is someone
unlike me.
A writer writes because he must.
I write because thats all i know.
I went back and found that tree,
Where we used to,
Waste our time.
The cans and butts,
Stuck in the earth,
As a sort of tribute,
To those who used to chill.
The branches naked,
And the tree was starving.
For our company once more.
For our friends and us.
It's been quite here,
The grass has not changed,
The wind still blows,
But the laughs,
No longer echo,
The conversations,
No longer exist.

I sat there alone,
Remembering things i'd forgot.
And I torched one in you honor.
And I leaned back on the bark,
When I awoke I was alone.
In this open field.
I'm sorry I left you.
The sun rushed,
Into the fray of limbs.
I saw your shadow,
Standing where you once did.
And then you left,
Without goodbyes.
I did the same,
The summer after,
We all stopped caring.

I had to leave,
And find my role.
Friendless and penniless,
I became happy still.
But the tree became a legend.
You became what was,
Actually me trapped in a
Small town.
I've grown a bit.
But never forgot,
The minutes I spent
Under the shade,
Of that tree,
Beyond the river,
Beyond our worries.
VIdeo games and mountain dew.
What else can he do?
Still a boy who thinks,
And sees his life before he blinks.
He thinks the world to be a sphere,
But what does he fear?
Nothing but life itself.
An unfinished book on a dusty shelf.

Cancer sticks; and coffee sips.
Smoke rising from his frozen lips.
Study hard; if he gets any done.
Hardly ever sees the sun.
Spends his days and his nights,
Aiming at petty sights.
Though it tragically seems,
He might not ever reach his dreams.

HIdes from failure; lusts for words.
Lies sting but truth hurts.
Smoke kills, and life it steals.
And nothing heals,
The wounds of broken wings,
And crippled things.
And he wanders through,
Without a clue.
There are things,
Im trying to ameliorate,
If I do it,
then I deviate,
If I smoke then I die,
Im trying to live,
so my parents wont cry,
my girlfriend wont grieve.
My lungs are so black,
darker than my skin,
I want to quit,
to not dissaoppint my kin.
And I want to go back,
with every single breath,
But gods, Im trying,
so I wont see death.
There was a boy,
who thought himself a man,
so he went to college,
as men-to-become do,
he got himself a girlfriend,
who did everything he didn't want to.
he left home with no money,
just dreams,
the things that men hold onto,
when they haven't got anything else,
and he studied,
but the schools never gave him the tools,
for him to become successful,
so he failed,
because all great men fail,
but he got his grades up,
a little too late,
his girlfriend pushed him,
and she graduated,
turns out she is a great woman,
with a great job,
a great body,
an impeccable work ethic,
and scarily efficient,
incidentally she is very beautiful too,
and every man needs a beautiful woman,
but more than that,
a woman who will motivate and support,
so he stayed in school,
another year he said,
two more semesters,
10 grand more in debt,
because a man needs a job,
a good job,
to support his family,
as all men will do,
the good ones,
not like his old man,
who's seen the inside of a cell,
more than his own son,
but this person persevered,
wanting badly to become a man,
knowing he had not done so yet,
because he was still a boy,
and he was scared,
as all men are,
he was terrified of the future,
as all men are destined to,
he knew he was far,
from becoming a real man,
and that hit him,
like the first cigarette of the day.
I believe in karma not jesus,
If you want,
Tear me to pieces,
Or pay attention,
You might want to hear,
The things which i'll mention.

I' am not a bad guy,
Although i have a temper,
I tend not to lie.
I just dont ponder,
That after you die,
It will be a wonder.
Or even a pleasure,
Yes, life is a jewel,
But death is no treasure.

I dont believe in the bible,
They say its a guide,
But i call it libel.
Believe if you must,
And you can argue,
But the holy word, I dont trust.
Because if you ****,
You're forgiven,
I say that is ill.
Pardon my phrases,
Im just suspicious,
In supernatural cases.

Excuse me, im curious,
Always have been,
And you might be furious.
But that is expected,
For thousands of years,
Atheist have been neglected.
My morals are better than most,
But go on believing.
Shoutouts to the holy ghost.
He’s up there reciting,
and he's strategically deciding,
if he should say this line,
maybe a little or alot,
and it could turn out to be fine,
so why the hell not.
But he truly is frightened,
and his skin has whitened.
So pale, like alabaster,
but he’s too drunk to cease.
He feels like such a master,
and he is enjoying this disease,
or this pleasure.
As he forgets about the pressure.
blank faces pay attention,
with their beady little eyes,
he is not from this dimension.
as he recites these little lies.
These little anecdotes,
that follow him in pocket coats.
After midnight writing quotes,
jotting down these little notes.
he’s alone with all these phrases,
and of course this disappointing grammar,
sculpting away at marble faces,
with his vicious ballpoint hammer.
The audience looking in despair,
trying to make this king into a pair.
Poker face with his poetic bluff,
his voice now getting louder,
and he thinks it's not enough.
Until he convinces every doubter.
His verse is such a treat,
and his competitors retreat.
For he is now alone,
with the audience just gawking,
And he will not change his tone,
because then they will start talking.
About his utter devotion,
as he spills all his emotion,
and recites with blatant violence,
he won't stop if there is silence.
Naive boy starving for knowledge,
Too lazy to learn,
He struggles in college.
But thats not your concern,
Unless you pay for his fees,
Those thousands of dollars,
That buy half-earned degrees,
But which feel like collars,
On the minds of the gifted,
Which love to create,
And love to get lifted,
According to fate,
Not a believer,
Its just rhymes he delivers.

Young kid looking for peace,
With his quiet ambitions,
That will never appease,
His artistic petitions.
His head in the skies,
But he's scared of heights,
That is the price,
When you stare at the lights.
He does not look for trouble,
But it finds him to well,
his feelings so subtle,
you would not know he fell.
Or that he is ill,
the silence so quiet,
the sickness to still,
he would not defy it.
Or even comprehend,
he wont understand.

Grown man, older than whiskey,
but younger than wine,
What he says is too risky,
but he is just fine,
to say what's sincere,
everyone else is too vague,
like watered-down beer,
Truths are a plague,
but it comes from the heart,
or from the hole in his chest,
Would you call it art,
If he did not try his best,
because he is a soul convoluted,
an enigma persecuted,
Like a book far from concluded,
but well executed.
Hoping for pleasure,
but finding it in odd locations,
He is a man under pressure,
Who needs some vacations.
He says life is frightening,
but won't set it asunder,
"If he rides like lightning,
he'll crash like thunder."
Because he is full of blunders,
and rampant with errors.
"The day is full of wonders but,
the night is dark and full of terrors"
He might be insane,
He might be a martyr,
If he flies like a plane,
He'll
                have
                          to
                                  fall
                                                   harder.
I want to tell you something,
but don't get offended,
You don't have to listen,
but I do recommend it.
We must put down the phones,
our situation is dire,
either we drown with the tide,
or burn with the fire.
What I am saying is simple,
you should learn to socialize,
if i'm talking to you,
don't look like you’re paralyzed.
Am I telling you to not have a phone?
No that’s impossible,
Will I ever quit texting,
Nah, that’s highly improbable.
But always being on the phone,
what do you expect?
you think 1000 friends,
deserves all my respect?
I know it feels like a lecture,
but could you show some manners?
***** the hash-tags,
worry about what matters,
like tulips in the spring,
the mockingbird and his serenade,
reading Hemingway,
cigars, and sweet sweet lemonade.
I don't have a smart phone,
of that i am proud,
people look at my phone,
and turn to me wowed.
Like “How do you live?”
and so I laugh,
look them in the face,
and say that I telegraph.
I guess I prefer people,
to the walking dead,
Not the show but those who,
prefer phones instead.
Don't look at the bright abyss,
for once just be a person,
Do something without screens,
before your brain fries and worsens.
I’m here to convert,
to try and show some leadership,
I’ll share this on my Facebook,
but don't dare call me a hypocrite.
I want to wake you up,
and see the sun at dawn,
do something memorable,
before you’re dead and gone.
#openyoureyes
Lonely dinner in the dark.
Quiet strolls through the park.
Excitement never expressed.
Someone is depressed.
Someone reading this rhyme.
With too much free time.

Lonely turns on the bed.
Coffee black, brown stale bread.
Zer0 goodbye kisses; hugs.
Someone has drank three mugs.
Someone has smoked a whole pack.
About time to pack.

Lonely thoughts on the mind.
Quiet whispers from behind.
Getting louder and louder.CEASE.
Someone guide him... PLEASE.
Someone show him the way.
No one has something to say.

Lonely summers, winters, springs.
Quiet days pass without phone rings.
Forgotten, left to find the pieces.
Someone unfold the creases.
Someone catch him as he falls.
Answer as he calls.
A Lyrical criminal,
With subliminal syllables,
Misunderstood verses,
Like satirical miracles,
Cynical, whimsical,
dope since they snipped the umbilical,
Left butts in the ******,
They'll throw butts at my funeral,
They'll ash squares on my casket,
Be surprised that I lasted,
Its only logical,
I wasn't infallible,
My rhymes never laudable,
Fictitional thoughts of wisdom,
Had friends, now I miss them,
He had friends that dissed him,
Text inbox full of pardons,
Littered cartons on the stoop,
The prophet hiding in his coop,
No kids,
Gonna get a coupe,
Stupid with the vocabulary,
Had a fight the first of January,
She said I ruined new years,
Blanket full of salt tears,
Had fears of her leaving,
These words have no meaning,
These verses are cursed,
She said I'm the worst,
I think she's the best,
I'll give it a rest,
The bird left his nest,
Before he was ready,
Clipped his wings in the fall,
And now he's unsteady.
I am the dreamer,
that I must confess,
I am a smoker,
and do it in excess,
I see myself in the future,
with a bushy beard,
maybe as a boss,
who'll be respected and feared,
and I see that I might marry,
unload these demons,
which I carry.
might buy mother a home,
but thats not relatable,
whether she deserves it,
is heavily debatable.
but that is out of topic,
my life is out of order,
I only feel happy,
when im back at the border,
but I dont know where home is,
I only know couches and dorms,
I try to be me,
and not one who conforms.
I try to be open minded,
and become enlightened,
I sleep with the lights off,
but im terribly frightened,
I see myself after college,
who is that man,
he's still a boy,
if he's got no plan.
Times like this i have to check for my pulse.
Pinch my thighs to feel something
,something other than this frigidness.
Have you ever felt like that?
As if the world goes and doesnt give,
a **** about you.
And you dont give a **** about it.
The room is darker than your soul,
your soul is darker than the
time you threw the trash out at night.


Times like this i just want to sleep.
Because whatever this is, this life,
Or, this illusion is too much.
But actually nothing at all,
rather i sleep than think about things.
Things i did or didnt do or should have done.
You've felt like that right?
Like the day isnt worth anything,
when really it is a blessing,
or maybe a curse because you know,
That life could be amazing,  
but only if you had
that one little piece thats so hard to find.

Times like this i just want to breathe.
Let  all the good come in
and let the bad out.
But i cant and i know,
because i have tried,
i have tried to be normal and failed.
Have you ever felt good or complete,
because i havent?
Im missing something,
something beautiful and small.
like when you lose a lover,
and that ***** in your chest,
begs you to be close to that person,
like the color white on sticky rice.
And you want to please that *****.
But you cant and you fall.
Fall from the happiness you once had.
Until you hit the bottom,
and start climbing up.


Times like this i write because thats what i am.
Not a good son, boyfriend, student,
but just a writer.
And i say that im good but really,
i have no clue what im doing.
Just write with my heart,
and speak my mind.
I know you have felt that.
Like there is no escape,
from this hole you are stuck in.
So you do what you love
in order to find a release.
To empty the emotions that
mess you up so well
and so sweet, so hungry.
Lusting after your pain,
not stopping.
So you draw, sing, write
because thats all you are.
And thats all you want to be.
They might just be words,
at least when you say them,
but when you write them,
they should be loved,
and caressed with utter comfort.
They should be whispered to,
in their ears, seductively and silent.
Take them to bed,
and **** them, **** them hard,
those little ******.
They exist to please,
shame them, and beat them,
beat them to a ****** pulp,
do it you brave bull,
tear them up, and tear them in,
make them cry,
cut them up,
dissect them.
Just like a scientist would.
Study them, and experiment,
do the unspeakable,
until you know everything about them.
Then put them on their knees,
make them look forward,
spit on them,
do whatever you want,
but in the end,
just execute them.
Three years in the state pen,
where they slaughter men.
Count to ten.

Three years and no one to visit,
the opposite of exquisite,
like how could you not miss it?
Got caught up doing illegal acts,
cant deny the facts.
You left me at sixteen,
barely a freaking teen,
but what i mean...
Is **** dad, i needed stability,
now hate is my ability.

Three years and not one call or letter.
I hope that made you feel better,
that im now a smoking sinful debtor.
You let it fall to pieces, and tatters.
It does not matter.
Now im 19 aren't I? Am i not?
A man? Why did you get caught?

Three years in the state pen.
Where dads let their sons be men.
I hope you feel the wrath of my pen.
Again into the land of education,
where i know not of success.
Into this void, into this debt.
Into a world that is falling,
a country that is stalling.
Into the first semester,
of another year,
another story, no other glory.
Here i go, ready for nothing.
Waiting on something.
But with my wits,
i will prevail.
And try my best,
not to fail.
There once was a boy both young with smarts.
In the forest is where our journey starts.

While angry at life he walked into a clearing.
Although he didn’t know that death was nearing.

The boy saw a mangy dog that was dying of thirst.
And he brought it water without thinking it first.

The dog suddenly grew larger, no longer weak.
But what happened was a natural freak.

The hair went darker and now with sharp claws.
A beautiful panther, the boy’s words were at loss.

The Black Panther with a shiny coat approached.
The boy screamed and the panther reproached.

            “Your fear is a flaw that you must keep repressed.”
The boy said “Mr. Panther what shall I do if I am depressed.

He roared showing his fangs both deadly and bare.
The panther said” Grow up, nothing in this life is fair.”

The Panther transformed into an eagle.
Brave, bold, and of course very regal.

The boy sat down both shocked and amazed.
The eagle picked off some birds, the boy dizzy and dazed.

            The eagle said, “See those birds I just ate with songs like fiddles.”
            “Well you will never know why because life is full of riddles.”

The Eagle was so wise it left the boy in awe.
He soared upwards, perched on a tree and began to caw.

The night went cold with a feeling of despair.
            The boy asked, ”Are you saying that my life needs repair?”

The eagle responded, “If you want to be happy, then to your heart be true.”
            Confused he asked back, “Im young and naïve and I don’t have a clue.”

The eagle transformed into an elephant, elegant and massive.
            With a booming voice he said” if you want something take it, don’t be a wimp, never be passive.”

Covered in Golden armor with black accents gleaming.
The elephant’s words left the boy bothered and steaming.

            The boy angrily shockingly said” You don’t know me, I am the greatest.”
            The elephant chuckled, “those are not the news that I heard latest.”

            The boy asked, “Are you some sort of trick or illusion.”
            The elephant responded” I am Thanatos, excuse the confusion.”

            The boy teased, “Sounds like a name before the time my grandfather was raised.”
            Somberly Thanatos spoke, “I took his life, his liquor was laced.”

            The boy curiously asked, “Wait are you some blood thirsty killer.”
            Thanatos replied, “No! I am not a psychotic blood spiller.”

From an elephant Thanatos turned into a black floating cloak.
The boy wanted to speak but on his words he began to choke.

            “I am thanatos, reaper of souls,  luitenant of hell.”
Then the clouds darkened with a pungent sulfuric smell.

The boy was quiet as a professional mime.
            The boy bravely spoke, “ Well thanatos take me if it is my time.”

Thanatos laughed and the ground started to shake.
The ground split with a powerful quake.

The boy did not fear the souls rising from the earth.
Thanatos said "did you know I almost took you at birth?"

Right then the souls cried of horrible torture and pain.
And thanatos washed them away with a rain.

Thanatos explained, "Those are the souls that try to escape."
"they are the **** that ****** and ****."

The boy said, "so why was I given a rare second chance or try"
"oh dear boy on those matters you cannot pry."

The boy asked, “Will I die of old age or disease?”
Thanatos with a change of tone said, “don’t ask me that please.”


"Well lad now I must now make my leave"
"There are some things you are yet to ACHIEVE"

The boy asked, "Well what If I never succeed?"
"you will but there are obstacles you must first EXCEED."

Thanatos swung his Scythe and the boy saw his future in a vision.
And the boy knew of his decision.

"If you fall then again you must RISE."
" We'll meet again when you are older and wise."

Thanatos told him,” your life will be long and bright.”
And then he said, “Always win, if you want it then fight.”

"go out and find yourself a nice lady."
And then he told me" I'll see you in eighty"
Everyone has something to say, it’s kinda cute.
I wanna say “shut the **** up” but I stay mute.
I live up on 6 stories but ***** you don’t know mine.
What you know about a young dude from the block.
Cause I grew up on borrowed money, had to wait in line.
All these closed doors but I can’t even knock.

And I hear you though, just slandering the name.
Its all the same really, but I don’t play that game.
Over, because I tried to restart but I never begun.
I tried to win but I only know how to lose.
I picked up the pen instead of the rock and the gun.
I picked up that green instead of that *****.

But I listen to all the whispers, and all that hate.
I was born on time but I was a century late.
I don’t belong, im something misunderstood.
Is he a prince, if his dad had no crown.
I was supposed to live in a castle instead of the hood.
I slipped from the clouds and fell all the way down.

Is not all about making money, you heard?
Don’t **** yourself over green, that’s kind of absurd.
But don’t tell me “I know how you feel.”
Cause you never did, never had my back.
This love is treasure that you have to steal.
Im deadly, you can call me a heart attack.

And what is a real man? My dad wasn’t one.
Does that mean I’m not a real son.
So I’m just a *******, because I never knew him.
If I did I don’t remember, its all a mess.
I’m flesh with no soul, a phone with no SIM.
Just a sinner that won’t ever confess.
Feu
Feu
Fire consumes me entirely
Rising from these fumes
From this hatred.
Fire throwing its weight making me sweat
Contact with a cancer stick
Now they tell me to stop
No, you stop
Fire stop, i melt in your presence
That line is so cliche
What can i do in the midst of this heat
Unrelenting, wrapping itself with its tendrils
Licking my arms as if asking for more
Licking my wounds as if trying to heal
But hurt is the feeling
Pain.
Like the ashing of a cigarrete
on your arm
but instead is in your chest
boiling up your blood
ANGER.
Or confusion
I dont know what is not unreal
Or is reality as real at is seems
nothing seem normal
nothing seems true
Only the color of the sky
And color of your eyes.
A thousand lights thriving,
out there in the distance.
In the night somehow surviving,
Hiding, in a dissonant existence.
They blink and flicker,
make love and bicker.
Relentless and ostentatious,
Quavering for a bit of attention.
but their dance is vivacious,
how they shift in dimensions.
there fading voices, loquacious.
but they do move so gracious.
And so very efficient,
as they devour the obscure.
but the nights not sufficient,
only the gritty allure.
And as they fade,
they make sure to remember.
That no one forbade,
them to surrender.
Or to forget,
To come back at sunset.
A workingman with regrets.
A lost coin that no one collects.
Or a lazy boy that one gets.
Im the thing everyone forgets.

Or the thing that people neglect.
My name conjures no respect.
A man no one would elect.

The object of sadness.
What is this madness?

Regrets, neglect, madness.
Sadness forgets.
Respect.
A gifted kid with a mind that's evil.
So weak, frightened and feeble.
Terrible truths escaping my senses.
Like little lies and false pre-tenses
Or thiefs jumping over fences.
Whats the difference am i coherent?
All i know is that my lyricism is inherent.

I wonder if im a force to be reckoned?
The bull who sees red and is beckoned.
A freaking wreck, what the heck?
I failed a test and broke my neck.
They declined my card and wrote a check.
Im so wrong it hurts to write.
I choose to scribble and never fight.

Whats a writer that isnt great?
Is it luck or is it faith?
What makes a writer worth reading.
Because i have a hunger that needs feeding.
A wallet that's empty and needing.
So please tell me, why im not ready.
Because im not lousy or petty.

Im not handsome, tall or nice.
And i like to drink good whiskey with ice.
I like video games and books.
I write novels because I lack the looks.
A poetic man that loves to cook.
A great catch if you seem to fish.
But im taken now, and I love this dish.

What is school if not just memorizing.
Writing notes without categorizing.
And believing the lies in the media,
like a research paper written from wikipedia.
Kids you're better off with an encyclopedia.
Universities take your money and your smarts.
For a piece of paper not worth two farts.

Oh yes i have my flaws and vices.
Ive had my troubles and crises.
Ive been through things, i wont repeat.
Ive tasted both victory and defeat.
but i have a life I would not delete.
The boy who sees the dark and fears.
A man who wont regret these nineteen years.
Lord of the shadows, king of the night.
Hiding but in plain view.
Out of mind, out of sight.
To me is old, to me is new.
I stand in the back, only to proceed.
I stick with my instincts to succeed.

Pharoah of silence; QUIET!
Listen to the dead wind, alive.
Just do it, please try it.
What do you know about life?
What do you know? nothing perhaps.
Just a moment, the camera snaps.

Prince of the moon, lackluster light.
Memories, a dark thing that rises.
A star so far, it almost seems bright.
Hope: something so simple as Cereal surprises.
Fickle fears, that never escape.
Fix yourself with electrical tape.

Jester of failure, feeding my vices.
Teller of truths, rise from the ashes.
Pain comes in all sizes.
True Love hurts like infinite lashes.
Cures those things that you couldn't.
Fixes things that you wouldnt.
Another day another stroke.
Quit the smoke and light the ****.
Burn the cancer or the tree.
I don’t know man, I should stop both.
Cause I got no home, know what I mean.
I grew up because I got good luck.
I died and no one gave a ****.
But I be reminiscing of back home.
Late nights, huge trees, my own bed.
No stress, now im a ******* mess.
Cold ******* mad me numb of feeling.
***** my heart and stopped healing.
Yo but im no one’s son, how sad.
I knew him once and he got lost.
Met him twice and ran then got caught thrice.
Im so envious, they have people who care.
**** ***** and nothing is fair.
But im saying I got lucky a few times.
Met a girl that loves me.
Or she says she does before she
Breaks us up like a frail twig.
I caught fire like a cancerous cig.
I don't know what to do,
they're asking me questions,
it all feels so new,
is it all just a test,
they're looking to me,
and I'm doing my best,
I have no experience,
my knowledge is sparse,
I am delirious,
I am a mess,
I'm drinking again,
to control the stress,
back on my *******,
like I never left,
back to my old self,
like I never changed,
I'm dreading tomorrow,
it's coming so soon,
I'll call myself lucky,
if I make it to noon.
Work is stressing me out, and I'm doing things that I wasn't hired on to do. Hope you all enjoy. If you're stressed out, you're not alone, friend.
I hate when things get personal,
because I get angry,
and you get emotional,
I yell and you scream,
an abrupt interruption,
as if rain were falling on a stream.
I think right now I will be blunt,
You’re ugly when you’re mad,
and you regret saying,
things you wish you never had.
Truthfully i am your servant,
I am your one and only.
I used to be a boy,
but that’s when I was lonely.
So then I wished upon a star,
but nothing did come true,
and then we met,
so that is when I knew,
that somewhere this was written,
because we kissed,
and I was smitten,
we held hands,
and it was true,
that good things come,
to those who wait,
I waited 18 years,
but there is no certain time,
when you rely on fate.
We've been together,
for close to three whole years,
and I've done a' lot of things,
that have caused a' lot of tears,
and for that I ask forgiveness,
I hope we do not ever,
go our separate ways,
because I am torn,
when we’re apart for several days.
Even though we get frustrated,
I rather be with you,
than to be separated.
I try to hug you every night,
so when you wake,
we forget about our fight.
I do not know many things,
for I am still learning,
but I do love you,
and I tell you every morning.
I miss you like someone,
who has ever loved,
will know.

I love you and that's honest,
but we're so far apart,
So I need to write you this.

Wake me from my nightmares,
they are dark and lifeless,
the opposite of you.

When I see you soon,
can you not let go,
I couldn't bear that.

I thought about you once today,
but the thought was too much,
and I had to stop.

I'am trying not to think,
but you're the mustard,
to my hotdog.

It's ******* us,
I know, I need to grow,
just stay with me and I will.

Tonight get online,
I'll be there too,
Get on Google Hangout.

I've been waiting all day,
thinking of what to say,
and I have to tell you everything.

My life is boring,
but when I tell you,
It's more exciting.

I know you,
I know your soul,
because we share one.

I haven't seen you in weeks,
and I know you hurt,
it hurts me more.

So when we talk tonight,
tell me everything,
and I will close my eyes.

And pretend you're right here,
head on my lap,
half asleep.

And it will be okay,
at least for right there,
in that firework of a moment.

And we'll both understand,
that this is love,
and no one else has it.
#longdistance
Little littered liter bottles of liquor on the balcony,
My girlfriend said she's tired of me,
I just tried to find myself,
And found out I was a catastrophe,
Now I question my morality,
I'm testing my mortality,
Did the same **** a hundred times,
The definition of insanity,
Nothing ever changed,
Never listened to suggestions,
Went searching for the answers,
But never asked the questions,
Never questioned my decisions,
Looking back,
I should have noticed my deficience,
Became a man out of requirement,
Nicotine so gripping,
Might not make it to retirement,
am I product of procrastination,
Or of my environment,
Haven't found my path,
Haven't found my purpose,
These are submerged thoughts,
That might not ever surface,
But here's to my persistence,
Which always makes me,
Improve on my existence,
And I know these thoughts are existential,
But without them,
I would squander my potential,
And if not for this nocturnal anxiety,
Who would listen to the boy,
Deemed an outcast by society.
Open your eyes,
now close them again.
There is nothing to see here,
except the rain,
that falls so rarely.
Lashing at the earth,
like tiny wet bombs.
There are some kids there,
riding their bikes,
up to no good.
And the lady at the corner,
who sells chips and cigarettes,
and ice cream for nickels and dimes,
Speaking of nickels and dimes,
there are those brothers,
who sell something else,
and it always smells there,
like skunk, and herbs.
Their dad was deported,
but they continue his path,
living with their grandma,
also up to no good.
Then there's that girl,
with all the make up,
that comes home,
in very strange cars,
with big rims,
and off colored doors.
Yeah, that girl is lost,
those bruised eyes will not heal,
those lips will always be whispering,
things that she's too young to say,
but those legs will not shut.
And no one's been shot,
at least since I can remember,
but I hear the guns on new years.
The dogs run wild in the thrashed alleys.
And the cops,
they roam the streets,
always with the windows down,
but that happens almost never,
and no one comes here anyways.
Just welfare queens,
Food-stamp families,
Illegals who work jobs,
that no one will do.
And even though,
everyone is poor,
the fajita is always on the grill,
the accordion bangs on speakers,
the ladies dance with their husbands,
the kids walk to the park,
the teens find a spot,
steal a beer,
smoke a stogie,
inhale the product of those brothers.
There is nothing to do,
everyone knows everyone,
dates everyone.
By the time you date,
it's second, third, fourth handed.
It's either the mall or the beach,
with its humidity and stickiness.
And all the restaurants are Mexican,
serving the same **** thing.
and the same **** thing
is what you eat at home.
And the houses are wooden,
falling apart, rotten and weary,
Creaking with the wind,
disappearing in a hurricane.
There is never enough money,
and the parents never laugh,
just work and work,
until you work and work,
for what?
So don't come here.
but if you must,
then open your eyes,
just to see the poverty,
the neglect and mosquitoes,
the border with all it's immigrants,
the river with all it's pollutants.
And just when you can't handle it,
when you miss your bed,
and wonder how it got this bad,
then close those eyes again,
There is nothing to see here.
There never was.
I am a burden,
no one wants me.
I am lazy,
everyone knows.
I am irresponsible,
that's became a fact.
I am cold sometimes,
its often true.
I can be loved,
but I hurt them.
I can love,
but they hurt me.
I am stone,
chipping away.
I am water,
drying in the sun.
I am here,
but only now.
I will be gone,
but don't know when.
No one will miss me,
I never existed.
The world is yours,
Nas whispered to me,
And I'm still trying,
but I don't see any achievements,
I am afraid to work hard for nothing,
I am afraid of commitments,
and airplanes,
and driving,
and student loans,
and being alone,
and living paycheck to paycheck,
like my father did,
and I know our paths are different,
but I wish for the path of others,
to walk in their steps,
I guess I'm afraid of making my own,
and to take the world,
because what would I do with it,
I don't even know what do with myself,
I couldn't tell you what I want,
I am afraid to know,
what if what I want,
is out of reach,
what if the world,
is not mine,
and if it isn't,
because it's probably not,
then what does it mean,
the land of opportunity,
but I can't find my own,
maybe I am afraid of looking,
that would make sense,
I went to school,
that's what they told me,
and now what?
the jobs aren't coming,
the phone isn't ringing,
the debt collectors are though,
my mom did though,
but I wouldn't loan her money,
it was for school,
I was afraid she wouldn't pay it back,
what does that make me,
don't tell me,
I continue my path,
wherever it takes me,
and where it doesn't,
I am not afraid of that,
but I am of failure,
and it lurks in the depths,
waiting for me.
I belonged in the twenties,
In the lost generation,
Taking the *******,
To put up for decoration,
In my flat down in Paris.
Where I could write under the shade,
And hope not to perish.
I could gamble and lose,
Or get drunk just for kicks
And then tie a noose,
To lie under bricks.
Yes it is sad to be a writer,
Even sadder without buyers.
It is never brighter,
If surrounded by liars.
I belonged in 1920.
Where being lost was okay.
But its been many,
Times since those days.
Just three teens without a place.
Ipod touch without a case.
Ipod touch without an owner.
Two stoners and a loner.
Music is the drive.
Keeping us fed an alive.
Shoes is the motivation.
Giving ya'll this information.
I guess money is the ambition.
For this little coalition.
For this little band of kids.
Fly shoes, clothes and lids.
Or a band of brothers separated.
That have always been underestimated,
and hated for the wrong reasons.
Moving houses like changing seasons.
Being judged for parenal decisions.
Mean mugs and unexplained suspicions.
Making our beds to lie in.
Thats something i dont believe in.
I see that no one believes in the crew.
So **** him, her, and you.
Excuse the profanity.
Contain my insanity.
Bottled up like soda pop.
Writer, engineer, and a cop.
Or three bums with no hopes.
Snipers without scopes.
The future of this generation.
Elation, procastination, inflation.
When does this road end and then start.
Begins, falters, then grows apart.
Just three teens in the garage.
Without money fame or an entourage.
Without nothing but ourselves.
Telling them to go **** themselves.
We're just young, broke, and faded.
Waiting to tell mom "I made it."
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