changed my shoes//
thinkin I could find a better//
s o u l .

no one said it was easy
you create the path
spread the base on
it’s foundation
you lay the map

it’s the grapes of wrath
life got a ghastly grasp
seasoned in your present
like your soul is wrapped

i pack the first for last
i muled some dimes and sacks
intricate in so much evil like
they like their snacks

i’m sober now
so that’s all in the past
but i slaved for many years
i broke its back

sedated lids
sealed like permanent naps
but awake with rage
anxiety pulsating heart attacks

snaps for the poetry that
kept me from going mad
claps for the music
that kept me from crying over dad

i work and slave just
to pay the tax
i try to keep one face on
so i can ditch the mask

i haven’t written in a while
i thought i lost my raps
but i guess some things
in life just always last

I did not feel
full
not in the way
one feels after a

hearty meal.

as it settles
inside the stomach

except I did not
want to get rid of it.

I had only had
half of it-

though two halves
make a whole,

I thought there are
one million ways to

purge the soul.

gravity is ******* me in
days or years
I don't know how long it's been
I am collapsing

inside of an abyss
swallowed by darkness
hollow sounds and black holes

the center cannot hold.

"I love you to death,"
he said.



"I love you for life,"
she replied.

I once wanted so
badly to die.

I once saw the world
with clouded eyes
a shrouded disguise
of pain and apathy

yet now things have
been looking up
my outlook on life
is improving

used to using a
fine language of suicide
confined to the
walls of my brain

I was contained
and chained
to the insane

but I broke it.
reversed the cycle
and routine

now it seems
as though
things are brighter

I made a conscious
decision after
living and learning
digesting lessons

from my conscience.

for once I have
a clear vision.

for a time it felt
like swimming
with eyes open.
so I closed em.

then lifted those
lids to find
the world looking
so different

a pure prism of
hope and such a
lifted perception.

now I have the motivation
and drive to strive everyday
to live to be alive.

it's such a sense
of euphoria
manifesting itself
inside,

I hold it and
keep it.
it's my best kept secret,

of an everlasting
eternal sunshine.

you ever studied constellations?
because speaking of,
there are more stars in this universe
that words ever spoken by mankind.

the size of astronomical numbers in a
true sense, IS the word itself
there are infinite ways to express this

equate the gravity of dropping one/ness verbalizing stanzas & sentences while deriving the universal mass of the human language.

I come with the whole truth
the truth and nothing but

the trials of a fighter
tribulations of a dealer
middle ground of good and bad
with no gray area

the truth is the truth
and truth is what it is
I knew when I pursued you
that I would probably
lose you

and who knew
but what else than to try
I come with the truth the truth and
nothing but

just drug stuff
lightin up in the basement
lighter fluid is the basis
all types of worry brew

I fell for you
looking into the looking glass
and your reflection just stares back
you can't hide

the good times
the truth is the truth
and the truth is what it is

and the truth is I hope you'll
return one day
but in your prison state
you might as well not be here at all
we were bound to fall

and that's the truth
and the truth is all

"do you believe in God?"
I asked her.
"No. I am not religious."

"I believe in the universe."
I said.

"I believe
in believing."
she replied.

and when she
said this she
looked up to
the sky

but we were inside-
so this would be
the ceiling..

..and waved her
arms about
so beautifully
like a thousand
pieces of fluttering
paper in the air.

"whatever makes you
look up."
"I guess."
"or believe- in your case."
I managed to utter back.

"you have to believe."
she said to me.
"whether it's God, or the universe,
or yourself; believe in something."

"what if you believe
in nothing?"
I asked.

"well that's simple."
"nothing is still
something."

"so that's something
to believe in."

not many people like you
because you’re the type to
crawl
not in the literal sense
but in how long it
took to overcome withdrawal

see a lot of people have it
figured out
everyone’s sized you up
they want to seize you
trap you
inside a tiny plastic cup

some people like the way you look
others are afraid
beauty in your many behaviors
many faces
many legs

it’s incredible how intricate
you weave and toil lies
sinful in the way you look
all masked with butterflies

you have this thing you do
you spin them in all directions
then wrap them tightly
as a product of perfection

stressing over
pulling all the lines in time
since no one hates a spider more
than one they cannot find

I didn't want to fall in love with
postage stamps
to put yourself onto paper like that
seems inaccurate.

but while I'm lonely, crying; I wanted to turn to you because you were never there to turn to
but I couldn't turn to you because you were never there.

And by there I mean here, with me, where you should have been.

I didn't want to fall in love with train tickets, holding my piece of glossy paper like the lotto.
I just won the opportunity to see you.

to lie with you in bed
be held
share a cigarette
attempt to contain the laughter.

See, when I step off that platform
and our eyes meet
I am flooded with excitement for it's Christmas and my birthday
all at once.

I am going to try, to care for you from a distance.
especially when those vast 70 miles seem to eat away

see I'll be checking the mailbox everyday, saving every paycheck to see you next.
I will wait learn to acclimate
I will learn to adjust.

And perhaps fall in love with the 70 miles that separate us.

thanks for being here.
today you are born again.
today you are alive.

struggling through
another day,
another
decade.

-it does get better
I
promise.

and I can't say I love you
because I don't.
but someone out there
does.

even if it's mom, or dad,
or a distant relative.

if you feel like giving up again,
please don't.
if you're thinking about ending it all;

tonight
or possibly tomorrow
hang in there just a little
longer

even with
palms sweaty,
arms aching,
callused skin...

pick yourself up.
no- not a weapon
or a razor
or comfort food- those cookies

sitting on the kitchen counter.

you don't need em'
I
promise.

get up and look at yourself.
yeah. in the mirror.

and repeat aloud, "I love myself."
repeat this until you believe.
promise
me.

if you are happy-
truly happy,
not with all the material *******
but truly happy with yourself-

with your virtues and values,
I applaud you.

but you deserve a standing ovation
either way.
for showing up for life.
you made it-
thank yourself for being alive.

whatever you do,
don't go back
to what

b   r   o   k   e

               you.

the verbal conversation is low
but they’ll like it better
if you type it

increase the vibe
with a new visual
to hype it
so i can project something digital

be sure to add a filter
and then take a selfie
for my thousands of “friends”
so they can harness my insecurities

credit my edits
to internet ideologies
but can a website
give you an apology

block you
from society
or let you join their
group on one strict policy

take out the truth
stake straight fake fallacies
un truth the truth
renew the news

fit the mold
for for their categories
tweet the twisted facts

so now
can someone
please follow me.

there is
something

about holding
hands

two palms whispering
secrets

held as

one

singing,

I f e e l.
I f e e l.

I feel for
you.

I. myself

I don't see any sense in books or talk therapy
for self help.
place em all in a box
place em with the throwaways on that
bottom shelf
and I ask myself whats it worth?
kneel to the darkness of the moon
and cry out in prayer to the earth.

where am I? Because I miss knowing that first person. So I pray and plea for an "I love you."
from me...

II. you

I don't see you often or talk to you much.
and if there is such thing as a loss of sense it would be touch.
because in many senses I have lost all five.
without you, I find it have to stay awake or stay alive.
it's survival of the weakest, a testament to how helpless I am-

To The Things I Have Lost.