Nobody Knows
Nobody knows what tomorrow will bring,
will there be sunshine, will birds sing.
Is today your last day,
if it is, what will they say.
Were you good, were you bad,
were you happy, were you sad.
Will people come and mourn,
or will they wish,
you were never born.
Is it dark, or is it light,
did you try with all your might.
Is there heaven, is there hell,
whom will toll your last bell.
Is there something,
you would change,
was there things,
you left estrange.
Is there life after death,
will you haunt,
who took your last breath.
For these questions,
that nobody knows,
we'll find out,
in the end,
I will suppose.

Love In Rhyme
loving your hair
loving your stare
loving your eyes
loving between your thighs
making you sweat
making you wet
making you beg
making you play
with my third leg
you're my farting queen
you're my miss mean
you're my angel wing
you're my everything
loving your voice
loving my choice
making you bad
making me glad
you're my *****
I'm your itch
loving your smile
loving my style
making you mine
making me feel fine
you're my one and only
I'm your no longer lonely
we're perfect in every way
what else is left to say

Mason substaining an undisclosed injury
concussion against pittsburg
less time to think
Mason gets hit
Stunned
head buzzing
comeback produced
he wanted so bad since he was a kid
he wanted to play in the stanly cup playoffs
concussion

I am falling in love
not into him, nor with anyone else.

But with how he can hide
your meanings
in a couple of left-aligned words.

But with his thoughts, his ideas
written on paper
in his awful hand-writing.

But with the songs he made me listen to,
they didn’t hurt my ears,
something else was hurt.

But with how he say my name,
like it’s his.
(Why does he do that? How?)

And to all his art,
especially the written ones.
His words can open doors to worlds
I didn’t know existed.

But I am not in love. I may be
falling for him.

On Drugs
Stop, drop and roll,
stripper dancing on a pole,
missing the toilet bowl,
having no self-control.
Drinking morning coffee,
inside hotel lobby,
seconds that are sloppy,
that's my favorite hobby.
Being super drunk,
more than a skunk,
***** has shrunk,
****** rock is called punk.
Smoking last cigarette,
withdrawal is a threat,
I still prefer a cassette,
will always be in debt.
Eating eggs with some ham,
with my good friend Sam,
will never eat a yam,
but will snort a gram.
This is a big mistake,
putting **** in my cake,
on your head is a snake,
it's time for a break.
Can't stop the giggle,
deep ******* a pickle,
boy it sure does tickle,
mystery wrapped in a riddle.
Shot ****** in the park,
dozing off in the dark,
my arm has a giant mark,
needle bites like a shark.
Smoked me some killer crack,
teeth rotting and turning black,
I cut myself no slack,
smoked **** and had a heart attack.
Now I'm as dead as a door nail,
my parents, I sure did fail,
can you believe I graduated Yale,
death sure does beats jail.

you used to hum the songs in my head
and only those songs remember us now.

ask for more?!
   ask for more???
have you lost your mind, man?
i mean really,
   ask for more! (said with a chuckle)

asking is admitting
asking is revealing
asking is believing
asking is expecting
asking is...
   asking.

nothing is better.
nothing is nothing.
well.
  nothing is nothing for awhile
nothing is something after too much nothing
   surely, nothing is better than asking

can i infer?
i will infer.
i will make gestures.

i will not be so dumb to act as if there were nothing
    but not so bold as to be asking for something
   i will infer
     i'll will things with my mind
i will desperately wish things
   quietly...
      silently, even?
that seems noble and perfectly normal
  mind reading
     inferring
  making ridiculous gestures
struggling
and talking to oneself
is surely
a saner and wiser path.

ask for more!
ha!
madman!