The value of a good name cannot be put onto a dollar or in the bank.
It is not something that is sold nor bought.
It cannot be seen nor held
Yet should be treated as a jewel.
It should be regarded as a prized physical possession.
And as all prized possessions, it can be stolen.
It is a fire kindled by the goodness of oneself and the purity of intention.
The fire once kindled; easy to preserve. Yet sadly, as all fires, can be extinguished.  
An arduous task to rekindle a strong fire. To redeem that of the past.
It can't be re-credited from ones own experience; not from their rewards.
It is rebuilt from the adversity; from the tribulation, heartache, and regret.
A good name is the reward of forgiveness and maturity.
The reward for understanding and suffering.
It is a reward from those whom admire.
From those you need.
From those you have loved.
And The ones you have hurt.

i saw her when I walked back.
when I couldn't have seen anything past the fog.
she took my hand and asked me to follow.
but i reluctantly took a different path.

not sure i knew where i was headed.
when i turned back she was gone.
her face faded to the back of my head.

I walked till my feet blistered.
till my legs burned and ached.
till they gave out and fell.
but she was there; to take my hand again.
and I recognized her.

she is that girl.
the one who haunts my sleep.
the one who brought me to my knees.
the girl who made me promise.

but it was all just a dream.

The illustrious city filled with smog creates fantasies that seem to fog. Or is it me that withholds the truth? From the battered wives to the troubled youths. But we always change the world we see with happy words that set us free from the pollution of our society.

      Hollywood calls out the fame that has taken power; differed from shame. We look away for fear of fault. We take the pain with grains of salt. To us helpless sinners to us depressed, we  use connotations to ease our rest. We put ourselves to moral test.

     Though, happy lives, they often lack the strength to keep the world intact for the corrupted place it seems to be that preaches good-will and democracy, yet fails in generosity. But we contorted the world we see with happy words that set us free from the sadness of our society.

To me,  elegance.
To you, they are pretentious.
But who gives a ****?

lay down to sleep.
drink warm milk & count the sheep.
mind is restless to the dreams that make your heart drop.
take a drink. smoke a blunt and see a shrink.
up all night thinking of ways to make the dreams stop.

sit out the day
got nothing else to say
pockets empty, fingers bleeding for some money
it's a shame
knowing life is not a game
dulled away from things you use to know were funny

cut up your knuckles, broke your
bones.
forget the good times; let her go.
pulse raises. heart beat pounds.
cold sweats and head aches to quiet sounds.

you break your neck and waste your breath to prove to them that you can be the best.
you hate yourself and change yourself
just so you could shine from all the rest.
but don't you think it's gone to far?
you act like this is all part of the test.
your not sure who you really are.
the scars they've left imprinted on your chest.
but it's what you wanted the whole time. just to hope they'd change their minds. to the response you wish to find.
'till nothing else seems clear.
suffocated with old fears.
you run away from trouble fast.
you never stay to face up to your flaws.
you never learned from what has passed.
you put your gaurd to keep you from their claws.
you're troubled, weak, and frightened now.
you'll never reach to make very far.
you never stopped to wonder how
you never seen how scared you really are.
but it's what you wanted the whole time. just to hope they'd change their minds. to the response you wish to find.
'till nothing else seems clear.
suffocated with old fears.

we danced on broken glass
and walked upon the sand.
you'd never let me pass
but I had different plans.

you waited at the light.
I couldn't stand the sight
and so you walked back home.
I didn't really know.

how can I leave?
you never did me wrong.
I bruise and bleed.
I write my silly song.

I take it day by day.
I know it wasn't right.
Just laughed it all away.
but kept me up at night.

I didn't want the truth.
i walked away from you
and left you all alone.
a couple years ago.

how can I leave?
you never did me wrong.
I bruise and bleed.
I've known it all along.
I know; I've seen.
I write my silly song.

Your love was the foggy, soot-filled landscape. The dawn overlooking the scene. The light piercing through the smog. The hot, smothering air with a dry powder texture that cakes my lungs. Infects me.
     Your love was desolate; with only the sound of your voice tethering it to the rest of the world. The sound of the fastidious, yet somewhat, saturnine emotion was enough to keep me interested. You are the background noise that emanates from a television in an empty room that keeps me company. Your love is the remains of a scrapyard, landfill, or the outskirts of a factory. It is busy yet barren. Occupied but lonely. Near but never there.
   Your love was a pile of dirt, trash, and soot. Your love did nothing but overlook the melancholy of me. As if it was the eyes of god, they judged the corruption and pollution of my greed and desire with not anger or hate, but instead, with regret and sadness. It was always watching; always judging. And I was cursed. Never able to look away.