I used to live here;
in endless contemplation.
Struggling to put into words some profound beauty,
Some ancient wisdom passed down through many lives lived unbeknownst to me.

To be honest I never even sat down to think about my “poems.”

I never stopped to read them before I shared,
a half thought turned to ten lines or a massive revelation turned to two.
I wanted to be a wordsmith and give everything I said a sense of grandeur.

Even now I’m typing without intention;
Without a scheme.
I almost never know what to say...
Regardless of the word *****.
Still wishing I sounded good on paper.

I used to live here;
in endless contemplation.
A bottomless pit of self regression, reflection, redemption

I used to live here;
I still do but I used to as well.

I always thought that I would be somebody,
until I felt like a nobody.

I always thought I’d be somewhere else,
until I started to feel stuck.

I always wished that I’d love someone,
this one I can say is true.

And now no matter where I found myself or who I was then,

I’ll always feel whole with you.

I don’t see myself in the boy too eager to please the others around him.

I don’t see myself in the teen who had been lost to the existential angst of a youthful mind.

Much too fast,
much too fast,
you have so much life to live.  

I now see myself in the mirror and only have faith in my actions.

Not too appeal to you but harness my worth and to finally follow my dreams.

I now see myself in the man I’d begin to be.

I now see myself as happy.

I have a question.

When does the line get drawn?
As in the imaginary law set by society’s hunger for what success is to each individual.

Where does that line get drawn?
Because it seemed like 16, when my mom first said;

“Son, you have to start thinking of your future.”
And so we browsed the colleges.

Regardless there was still much time.

I thought the line had been drawn.
I’m 19,
I’ve now finished a year in college.
Sound recording technology.

I love music but they tell me to pick something realistic.
Something with a better “predicted growth rate”
Something with 401ks and paid holidays.
They begin to draw a line for me...

I’m 23,
I’ve dropped out of college.
I’ve made some music.
I even got some things done.

I still wonder where the line gets drawn,
though I know now better than ever...

I hold the pencil that draws the line.

So...

I drew a smiley face.

Is it not ironic,
                       as children wishing to be grown

Once we’ve racked some age up,
                          we don’t want to be old.

Refraining from writing a lot,
          Afraid of what I’ll say

Not because of what you think,
           It’s the things in the back of my brain.

Things I don’t give a lot of attention,
             Unless I stop a moment to reflect.

Staying away from writing a lot,
          A moment just to breathe.

You like to be mad at me.
I’m often annoyed with you.

But as long as I live I swear on my life I’ll always be in love with you.

I think that I am really over you.
Mostly because your name tasted like sin for about the past five years.
Meaning it felt terrible to say.

Really quite truely over you.
Mostly because the last time I ever saw you, you asked to have *** one least time.
I never thought that was selfish, in retrospect I was just vulnerable.

I really think that I’m quite over you.
Your face never really looked the same.
Your voice has faded from the hidden crevices of my concious and I don’t think about you much.

This thought had just crossed my mind.
Now I’m feeling kind of free.

Please do me a favor.

Find yourself.
Then find yourself again.

I feel like I understand your pain and the feel of loss.
I understand the crying out and wishes to be gone.
I even understand the way it’s been years since the situation happened and,
Somehow even then when you’ve grown you still blame yourself for the madness.

But,
Find yourself
Please find yourself again.

The things that make you smile
Like making things worth while.
Your hobbies, your friends and family and all the in between.

Please find yourself.
Then find your self again.

Read again when you find the need.

I wish I could write a happy poem because it seems there’s not enough to go around.

I wish that I could paint a visual picture but my prowess does not afford it.

Wishing I could make you guys smile, they way some of you do to me.

But my forte is the dark shroud of unhappiness I find my calling in it.

My favorite artist once said he couldn’t write a song when he was happy.

Let’s just stick with that.

Sometimes I sit in silence.
I stare at my reflection and ask where the time went.

Sometimes I look different.
Like I’ve really realized how it’s all been spent.

Sometimes I sit in silence,
but no amount of serene atmosphere could calm this mind.

Sometimes I feel different though,
I told my self I’d give up forever ago.

But I guess I don’t have forever, so I’m glad that I didn’t.

I want you to like me, I do.
Just please don't talk to me,
I won't know what to say.

I want you to like me, I truly do.
But you're starting to make me uneasy.
I would much rather be home.  

I don't like you, I don't.
And uh, it's not exactly your fault.
I really just don't like people, which is why I never answer calls.

I wanted you to like me, I truly did.
Now though, I think I'm fine on my own.

I'm fast approaching death, but not telling anyone.
So I have intentions to leave a note on my front porch for my family.  
It was probably more for me,
so I know you'd have some peace of mind
and you don't go looking for me in the winter time.
Cause I loved when it was coldest and I had this place I went when I felt like I needed to get away right outside of the middle school near my best friends house.
I'm fast approaching death and you're not helping anymore.
Your smiles aren't  as sincere and my lack of motivation's made it clear that I don't need to be so "here".

Dear Beautiful,

I know sometimes you can't take it.
My lack of motivation to get a good nights rest.

I really only stay awake to see the rising sun hitting your face.
To watch your body.
I'd like to examine your freckles, where each mole on your body lies.

I'd like to etch out your beauty like mountains on a map.
I almost wish I was a painter.
What I really love is to watch you breath, sometimes I turn off our peddastle fan just to hear a little better.  

Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.

Somehow you always find the will, even in your slumber, to catch my hands like roaming butterflies and hold them.

I only want to bask in the moment.
That's why I'm always last to bed.
I only want to make sure your image is imprinted in my brain.

Like stained glass.
A portrait in oranges and yellows
Browns and blacks.
Reds and blues.
I want you to know you'll look this beautiful forever.

Dear Beautiful,

I know sometimes I must really be annoying but,
I'm only trying to breath you in.

Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.

Sometimes I think of death,
how sometimes it's far fetched to think none less than that
it's an ease set to put me to rest.
I'm not saying this life isn't beautiful,
or more over that I'd love to see my family at the funeral.
Oh but if those brake pads gave
and that big eighteen wheeler swayed, hit and swerved me off the side into a twisted metal grave;
Well I had given what I'd got but in the end it's tough to say that sometimes I think that life is better off that way.
Not for me but for those I care for.
Ripped and torn by thinking I know exactly what I live for.
I don't and that's a scary thing.
Something that could shake me wide awake at night while having dreams.
Sometimes I think of death,
friendly by the way it swept and kept me safe.
I was begging to leave but decided to stay.
Now my mind is blank.

I'm growing out my hair.
Not because I'm really in love with the whole hooligan look.
More so because I feel as though it keeps me just a
liiiiittle bit closer to my youth.
Because I do not at all mind when people call me crazy,
with my wild thick hair.
I am crazy.
I'm probably crazy because I still want to keep
the child in me sheltered in my mind, my heart.
I always want to dream and I always want to play video games
and if theres a five year old in the room,
I'm up for pretending with you.
(So long as I'm not playing my video games)
I'm growing out my hair.
Not because I want my girlfriend to tell me she likes it or something,
but because I always wanted to when I was a kid.

Love her, for she has loved you unconditionally.
Pick up your phone, pick up your phone, pick up your phone.
She's calling, just to hear your voice.
So tell her you love her.
Tell her you miss her.
She's the only woman you ever needed.
Tell you're mom she's perfect, show her you know best.
And tell your mom she's worth it, every second that you've spent.

I'm a joker, I joke so often.
I joke so often life became funny from inside this coffin.
Life became a joke, trivial in its pursuit to make better my perceived reality.
But that's all life is, your perceived reality.
Life is a joke and you can laugh and laugh, some might laugh with you and some against.
But don't forget the most important parts that lay inside this life
Love, family and friends.
Don't forget them.
This is not a joke.

My heart pours melodies,
each note a soft spoken I love you.
My eyes cast stars on your mountain side and in the night there was nothing more beautiful.
I get lost in these galaxies, i find myself now deeper than ever

Throw me a rope.
I'm
In
Too
Deep

I'm no adventurer, but I would climb your mountains.
I would explore your forests and swim your seas,
For the untouchable fruit has been grabbed by me.
I don't wish to claim everything and this is not my land but I'll be ****** if I don't take it in.
But maybe I'm ****, doomed and ******* anyways,
Maybe just maybe we do die alone and I won't be taking you with me but that's none of my concern.
When curiosity had beckoned I answered it's call and now I'm stuck just waiting for my fall.
From your mountains.
With love.

I can see you through smoke.
      I see you in dreams.
I'll see you when I croak.
      I don't breathe around you it's hard.
And my eyes burn like blunts in the closet
     My heart bursts on my sleeve.

But I'm being honest!
     Sometimes I wish you hadn't.

Please, just breathe.
When you're thinking too much and you know it's getting you down.
Please, breathe. Just breathe when you hear her name echo in your head one billion times.
Breathe even amidst the blaring silence that brings you to tears.
For God's sake just breathe.

Poems and words, this art form is so beautiful.
It can provoke a few emotions with the slightest of ease.
Nouns and verbs to catch every glance you've taken and turn it into a movie.
Because she's not just reading her book, no.
She silently sifts through pages, seamlessly occupied for ages and in the same spot she sat for hours. In her same faded oversized shirt, with a cigarette.
What worth she has and she doesn't know. She's reading into another story but hers is all I care about.
But poems can do that to you!
Yes! Cause when I say I love her, I don't just mean that I love her. I mean the sun shines brighter for her, I mean that tides are pulled by her emotions cause she is the sun and the moon and the earth and the water. I mean to say that not only does my heart revolve around hers like the relationship between two planets, but I live for her. Eat, breath and die for her.
I mean that poetry isn't just beautiful because words sound nice, I mean poetry is beautiful because you make it beautiful.
Little pieces of you laid out into text for the world to see. Now that's beautiful.

Drunken thoughts on the back porch, make me think a lot about the times or back when everything made sense.
Past tense, I was just young kid trying to find an identity.
I ran through phases, ran through friends that help me see the ways then
High school came around, I was a dumb kid.
Arrogant, hell sent left to be the harbinger of my own bad news.
I couldn't blame it on the rest, the peer pressure, fear that makes me think whether I had lost my way.
But then again I don't know what that means.
I don't know what to do.
And I'm starting just to think like you.
All money. Green. C.R.E.A.M all around me.
But I don't feel the hype and man I guess that you could down me for just being real. I'll let you know about just how I feel.
So when you see my head down you never have to wonder what the deal is.
It's just me, oh my, myself and I would like to offer you another slice to bite from my own flesh because right now really nothing sounds better than death.

If I could I reach into the deepest parts of my mind I would say;
The world is a beautiful place and I am no longer afraid to die.
Because you know what as many times as I can count I've smiled when I smelt fresh cut grass.
I laugh when I see my friends make an ugly face from the sunlight magnifying off my water glass.
Or how people help people
And even though we're all lethal we proceed to keep it faithful, keep regal.
Before this epiphany, the world held nothing in its hands to intrigue me.
It was cold.
And I was cold.
Sometimes I think I'm moving back to my bitter ways.
But hey the world is a beautiful place and I am no longer afraid to die.
And when that happens I'll probably fly or maybe just be food for the flies.

If you were to ask me what memories stained the crevice of my brain most I'd simply reply; Car rides.
There was always this calm, serene feeling that came with the tires pushing off concrete.
The ac blasts a cold breeze and on the radio we play music
"When I saw you looking like I'd never thought, so what's it gonna cost to be gone"
And when I saw you, looking like you haven't a care in the world, I smiled.
Because your comfort meant more than anything.
And that's why I watched you, every day, every night and between car rides.
These were the moments I feel I got to observe you and listen in on the things you said with your body.
With your smile.
Your eyes.
And the way your hand never left mine.
Ask me once more what memories stain the crevice of my brain most and I'll simply reply; Car rides.

Honestly, just don't go to sleep.
Don't get around to having your dreams or getting your hopes up or making it seem like maybe for once it's all gonna go your way.
May your eyes remain open because reality isn't kind.  
Not to the deaf and not to the blind.
Honestly, just lie awake.
Because you'll have time to wish you hadn't wasted time on sleeping before.
As if the memories of you don't already seem like bad dreams or being alone isn't always as bad as it seems
So I won't sleep tonight or tomorrow nor the next day.
I'm going to remain awake.

I don't think I'm happy but who the **** cares.
Many a times I play pretend and laugh with friends but I know deep down I'm just shriveling up.
Sometimes I think about killing myself, I don't believe I'll do it. I'm not strong enough for even that I guess. But I do think about it,
oh do I think about it.
And then I think what life would be like if I just laid down and didn't get up.
Oh do I think about it.
Sometimes and always.
Hallways seem longer, days get shorter and ever breath I take doth not make me stronger just closer to where I feel like I should be at this point.
Dead. Or just gone maybe. Alone.
These poems used to serve me a purpose; to release but now I'm just seeing me
And I don't like to look in the mirror.
Thats where I look to see something I fear, holding on but near insanity I'm digging into a rut.
Please don't listen to me.

I've missed you.
I'm sure you can gather that I've been a mess.
I've missed the way your voice gracefully flows from your soft pink lips.
Days passed slowly when I sat alone.
I didn't want my friends, my family, school or much of anything.
I'd miss the way that those songs I listened to used to make me smile.
After while I would only cringe.
I'd miss the way that those songs I sang, I only sang to you.
I missed when we would walk into a room we'd get a compliment or too.
Mainly, I've missed you and every little thing you do.
From the way you lose your temper in the morning easily, to the way that you can't hold sentence while I'm holding your weary head minutes before the clock strikes three.
I may have a faulty camera in my mind but I can still feel the memories.
I don't know why I'm writing this.

Every breath brings back your scent, it's like you left a piece of yourself in my passenger seat.
You sprayed yourself with the perfume you had just bought, I watched as I could see the tiny glistening drops float past your cheek into the sun.
I remember saying something about how you would always run, making me chase you. The memories it brought back were ones I'm quiet fond of.
You always do this thing where you sprint forward and look back with a big smile hoping to find me inches, nay, centimeters behind you.
I would wrap my arms around your waist and drag you down to the floor, lay my lips on your cheek and we would laugh.
Only for a moment though, cause we realized we were in love every time.
We had to look in each other's eyes and say it. Shout it. Write it on the walls of a million buildings.
Nights pass very slowly when I'm with you, but it's funny cause we also **** a ton of time.
I always loved killing time.
But time learned the art of defense and now it's killing me.
You were away for more time than I can count.
I missed the way we were.
I forgot the last time I was living in love, scribbling notes on napkins, driving home from practice, lighting our cigarettes with matches.  
Sometimes it's hard to be in love with the girl of your dreams.

It wasn't till eyes met that I could make that bet
Bet you get your heart broken
Bet you would regret to regress to test your younger self to guess what comes next.
I'd bet that you didn't even know it was happening yet.
And I'd bet you thought of me once or twice, thrice to be precise.
I'd bet then when he said he loved you, you saw it rolling off my lips.
I bet you heard my voice.
I bet you met my eyes.