So somebody asked
me to write about me
and I'm taken aback
by the difficulty

I'm an addict in a rehab
my life has been difficult
and often it stabbed
but I've repaired in the mental

I don't watch TV
and eat mostly green
I focus on the unseen
if you know what I mean

Do people eat broccoli on pizza?
Because it sounds delicious
one topping I like is spinach
and cheese like chester cheetah

Seems you can tell a lot about a person
by what type of foods they have aversions

Ah yes, on to Hockey!
the best of all sports
It's my fav so don't knock me
It's a religion of sorts

Speaking of religion
I feel it causes division
with so many revisions
to each their OWN decision

Some think I'm insane because
I think about the other thing
often wondering what I was
and who I am beyond my thinking

what's inside?
a fish? a duck? a bird of paradise? candy? lizards?
or something more exotic -
a dragon?
a platypus?
a firebird?
pterodactyl? sea serpent? roc?
maybe a village, or a girl, or a death, or all three?
eggs are wild cards. fate puts a baby [_] inside, and it claws its way out when gets impatient of sitting pretty. we are all basically eggs waiting to assume a shape and shake off a shell of past dreams and childhood nicknames.
yes they're delicate. so they can break apart when needed. so they can enclose themselves gently around a realm of potential, but it is a maze, not a prison. escape is the ultimate end. birth is the ultimate end.

they were my works of art
and you gave them away
you imagined them for me
but you gave them to mere passersby

you painted a world of
watercolour dreams
oils of glorious skies
nights drew in with charcoals

drawing abstract stars
and graffiti moons
that shone over our love of love
our waterfall of wondrous things

but now the paint has dried
it cracks and you give slithers of it
to every passing fancy that looks your way
to muses with Mona Lisa smiles

my works are gone
given out as sweet treats
honey for the flies
catching the artists eye

and I fade to black
charcoal underlines my eyes
and not even my abstract stars shine

"Dreams" he said, "I want you to write about your dreams"
I watched his expression full face, talk with his usual infectious vibrancy...
candle flickering, between belly laughs, raw unscripted stories, uncensored truth and the feeling of complete freedom to be human, his pouring over the brim life experiences..dripped from his fingertips as he spoke with his hands.
I'm Lucky. I thought. As I sat there, sinking into his words and gentle loving soul.
Just to simply know him, to hear of his adventures, heartbreaks, falls and climb to the top of life's list of goals and successes.
So I meditated on this writing assignment...for weeks.
I've written of Love, Loss, Heartache and Regrets.
But Dreams...I've yet to fall into ink drenching grains of paper and be completely free of the ever ticking time...to do just that... Dream.

here comes the 'cutter'?
where did compassion go?
are you ******* ******?
how can you just label a human soul?

you mock and you tease,
what used to be haircuts,
is now a 'help me' plea,
now I'm sick to my gut

have you ever used your brain?
you god ****** apes with ego trips,
for something other than self gain?
you've nothing but pride upon your lips...

An almost lover,
its time to say goodbye
the words have been said,
And the door has been closed
What could have been will
Consume me
But I can't let it in  
My darling,
why couldn't it be you
sometimes I think we're the same
The games excite us,
but that's not
enough anymore
This life is no game,
It's too precious to be wasted away
With these wasted words of hope
that you carry between your lips