I bring a lot to the table,
a choice of three.
But everything I do just falls flat.
I could call it karma,
but I don't think it works
like that anymore.
And you make it a point
to have eye contact.
Was it to hurt me?
Was it to show just what
kind of monster lives
in that soul?
I might be a joke,
but the biggest one I believed
was the capacity of you to care.
One minute laughing with
an old friend,
the next was just sweat.
Why would I care?
Just listening to the hustle
and bustle of everyday
life passing me by from the
other side of the bathroom door,
suffocating my life with a hand
over my shallow existence.
Can never let go,
not ever since an ex of an ex
helped me realize just how
I flow.

Red crimson sparkles
On the shattered glass
Dashed on hot summer pavement

You never asked for this,
You never meant to hurt so bad
And you're looking back and forth,
Side to side
There isn't much left to go

You've broken too many hearts and
Too many promises
And the crimson,
It's dripping from your sleeve

Steel gleams with His light
And maybe one day
Your eyes will wash away this blood
Because he made a promise
And he's the only friend you'll ever want

it's a wonder
how little
you can mean to
someone,
but they still
remember
e v e r y t h i n g

I'll put this all aside,
Write like it's you reading it
Time has a funny way to abide
So I hope you don't just sit
And watch it pass by

I have different dreams now
And the fear has been added on
I have a different strength now,
One that lacks in every way
But it doesn't matter cause
You found the strongest one for the day!
And all my dreams, they involve you
All my fear is still being forgotten too

He likes the idea of art,
maybe even dabbles in some guitar.
Even has a voice of gold,
at least that's what she told.
Just another treasure
these ears never got to behold.
He likes them petite and tiny,
carbon copy of the things never
to be found behind the eyes
he couldn't find shiny.
So why so nevers playing with a roach?
Was that all some kind of show?
But he wasn't listed off by the drama coach,
too soft for a tough edge.
Why show art your hands make
when you could just sit it in your lap,
having the best of a laugh
while sitting on a ledge,
chains choke and a useless
heart broke?

He likes to contemplate,
sitting in a computer chair.
His eyes are focused when he stares,
nothing in particular there.
He filled life with wonder just by the way he cared,
always a part of me even if
he can't feel anything.
He was the best and I was his kryptonite,
but I was always there every single night.
We spent months doing what kid's like us do,
I was his special little b o o.
I know there is nothing but dead embers,
but I hope he remembers
the good and the bad,
and the way he never made me feel fat.
Walking down this road alone,
I hope he understands that I
will laugh whenever I hear a toad.

Sunken,
pulsing black and blue.
It resides under
weak bones that ache
to be seen through
paper thin skin.
It has it's moments.
Blossoms beautiful flower's
into the ones it sees the pain it feels.
It has it's roots still there,
the young one you knew before.
The before it treated
every guy with the same make and model,
the way it treated you.
It's scarred and grotesque from
the way it won't trust anyone,
from the way it made you feel.
Is it worth to say the tears
you almost shed left
open, fleshy wounds on it?

I see the yellows and the reds,
is green still your favorite?
Blues shine brightly around it.
Could you have made it withstand time?
Would you have imagined the arm wrapped around it?
Sitting comfortably together,
would you have loved
the sound of my laugh,
seeping from around my hand,
echoing off the walls?
The walls with all the colors shinning on.

Turquoise in a set of four,
a catch halfway closing the door.
They have seen this life lived,
the aftermath of lies wish were never told,
and the life desperately seeked that was long ago sold
to the demons unwillingly kept in minds streets.
They don't want anymore.

New faces, new places and
new things.
No paint could cover the grudges formed with words made of sickly thorns.
They haunt 'ever presently should go,
the three ghosts that each hold
stories in the turquoise that used to be known.

Fading in and out of reality,
past has already passed the best of infinite.
Sunken to new low,
drowning in this currents flow.
Self hate, self medicate to
make the inevitable come slow.

They beacon with their call,
dont buy into it.
You're better than that.





(Or maybe 'that' is 'them'.)

The first poem I had ever written
hangs in a frame in the den.
My father shows it off proudly,
I just think it's lousy.
Did you read it?
It wasn't for you.
I was a junior,
he filled my life with humor.
Could it have been about you?
Would I still roll my eyes
and constantly ask my dad why
he has to show it around?
Now I write mostly about you
and this constant feeling
of heartbreak that I go through.
They say life isn't fair.
Looking back at your stare,
I can now only agree.

And when we get there,
After I follow you of course,
Maybe I'll cut you in half
with the past and the present,
Such great force.
Or maybe I'll just let you believe
that what you did,
makes you
better than me.

The wind picks up,
the roof can give way.
In this bed I'll stay,
daydreaming my life away.

The rain will pour down,
but I will continue to lay.
I will continue to watch
every memory fade.

Like a vacuum of a godly design,
I watch the moments embedded in my mind
float to the surface of a great divine.
Next are the things I wished to have done differently,
making dying not something akin to finally.

Childhood memories of my mother's
golden hair tickling my face,
the way my grandmother filled me with faith.
I have so much to cherish,
so much to lose.
I have so much to perish,
so much I never got to choose.

The wind picks up,
tears flow above.
At the untimely moment of death,
I can't help but find so much to still love.

At the moment alone
in this house made of old stone.
And if I die,
I'll take every broken bone.
It can take everything.
Take everything until
it's all gone.

It's day one
Excluding New Years Eve
Because hey,
It's been a hell of a ******* year

And there's no pieces left to piece
Just the resounding of
No one cares anymore
Replaced and forgotten
Remainder of a ******* notebook
That has zero substantial meaning
To who I am today

Except for you
And you make it hard
To let it go

It's you and I know
It's branded into my soul
That I was a careless *******
Because

*******

Look at you and it
Doesn't even
Matter

Because look at me

Remember me?

Yeah,

I don't either

And I'm doing horrible as ever
But my comebacks are clever
To fit my personality
And you can think whatever of me
Or you don't
I am fat and worthless
But I am a hotmess
Of potential
Just need some inspiration
From someone that seeks desire
In imperfect tramas

i'd be lying if i said
you make me speechless
the truth is you make my
tongue so weak it forgets
what language to speak in

he looks so good
sweat dripping
like water on
honeydew.

i want
to lick it
off and
devour him
from within.

i want
to be the stuff
that makes up
his dreams.

i want
to be the one
that makes him
roll his eyes back
and scream.

he'd be daddy
and i'd be
his bad baby.

or just maybe
i'd settle for
a candlelight
date.

or something stupid
like going fishing,
he'd hook the bate.

chewing on my lip
without looking up,
"whatever it is
you want to do,
i wouldn't mind
doing it with you"
I would whisper
to the point he
couldn't hear
me hardly.

would he be
the first in a while
to touch my mind
and know my soul
before my body?

and who knows
at the end of the night
maybe a peck
on the cheek.

with him,
would life still
seem to be
so bleak?

You'd think I wouldn't care,
It's been so long since I wrote it
But the loose strands of hair in this water
Says something completely different otherwise

Water drips from the tips
Of these fingers that wrote it,
That betrayed so many

The droplets creat a maze between
The hair on my legs until
They return back to their home

You wait to see what *******
I write about now
I wonder who would dramatically
Reveal their face in the neon glow
Of convenience store lights

You're a part of a circle
So it's not like you care
You want to live out my old work,
This isn't poetry I'm writing now
This is my new journal

From my fingertips
To your eyes
Free of charge

You wanna know what I would
Write in that same book all these years later?


I wonder what it would feel like
To rest my head on my knees in this
Lukewarm bathwater and feel
The skin

S t r e t c h i n g

over my ribs as I try to think
Of one good reason to still be alive


But I don't do that.
I don't have to.
I wash away the possibilities of you,
The regrets and mistakes,
The white cars and mean words

I wash them away until
I can finally think of them
And not
Feel
Like
Dying

To fill the mouth
with thousands of seas
only to be met with more thirst.
To have the world
fall onto your brain,
filled with knowledge of the unknown.
To lay awake
reminiscing of all the
things you took for granted,
while they sleep peacefully.
To wobder when
being fully dressed before
presenting yourself in front of a mirror
will no longer be a necessity.
To thinking
you know so much but
knowing so little.
To beg like
the begger you mistook
them for.
To be all alone
and only wanting them,
no one to blame but yourself.
To cry out,
only met with silent,
cold, uncaring.
To spend lifetimes
wanting something that
never wants you.

Your mood swings toward me
Are drastically unproportined that even I
Can't keep up with them
But I'm headstrong, I know how this goes
Every person I meet is an Anne Frank
And I am drowning beside ******
Only one can be saved

I don't know.
Maybe it's because this liquid courage
Strengthens my backbone just enough
To think easily of how those headlights seem
To be on the right side of the road but really,
They're just barely over the yellow,
Just enough so that the bones in my nose and forehead
Disintegrate into the tinniest pieces,
Slicing through my brain

Liquid courage helps spill my guts,
Not my blood

And I know what you're thinking
That this is a bigger joke than even myself,
That it's disgusting and maybe pathetic
But it's actually just entirely sad

Because there's no use for miscalculations,
There's no worry of the outcome
When you feel like life is not worth living
And the fact stretch marks don't even come close as to why
You're not even halfway good enough
For boy's like that

But the daydreams,
The longing of a hand on your thigh
While he's driving you to his favorite place
Or the first kiss you share,
Holding you every night

It makes the dull lit flame in you,
That you have no idea how or why is still there,
Spark and grow into this wildfire within your chest,
Tightening and warming it as you breath.

And that's exactly what you do.

You breath, you smile,
You imagine

Because there, in your imagination,
A boy like him would never hurt you
A boy like him would care

This is poetry,
It's me writing what
I truly feel inside,
What I feel when
I am reminded of a time

And I have experienced
So many times since then
And I have experienced
So many times that have
Nothing to do with this

That last one reminded, it knocked
The hell out of me in a way
That is undeniable
I wish I could say
I'm sorry to him
Not for how it ended
But because it was never him

I remember thinking
At the beginning that
He would be a momentary filler
That it would last a month,
Maybe two months
And that it was really because
I was just waiting for you

And along the way,
He made me forget because
I let myself forget everything
And he made me feel loved
And he made me feel wanted
And I did love him then and I did want him then
And he made me a horrible
Disfigured form of who I was
Because I chose to let him and
Myself become that

It wasn't real and it wasn't fake
I did love him, he was a part of
My growing life and I wish
I could tell him that
Im sorry for being such a
Horrible humain being,
Just ******* out everything
Because I needed to feel whole
And it's because...
I wasn't whole, I wasn't really anything
Because I left who I was,
I left everything back there,
I left it with you

And it's inexcusable what I did
And how I hurt people
All along the way,
It was my very own form
Of a thick wall, it wasn't who
I truly am
None of this is
The lying, the drugs,
The endless suffering
I have to let go of that part,
That wall isn't who I am anymore

And even though you moved on,
You may not even believe
Anything I say in this,
I can feel the carefree and innocence that I was before
I eventually met you and
The joyful, brave, courageous person
You once made me after I met you

And if I never see you again,
If I never talk to you or hear from you again,
I do love you
I love you in the simplest of ways
And I love you in the most agonizingly difficult for the brain to comprehend ways
I love who you made me and I hate who I let myself become
But I love how you and myself reminded me
Of everything I used to be
And I take this love that I have for you and I take this relearning to love love for myself
And I'm becoming who I was but turning it into
Who I am with the who I used to be
And I can only ever thank you and me for who I will be

And I wish you could see this journey,
I wish you could experience the final,
The new and improved
And in a way you will because I'm taking you everywhere I go
And it will be met with every ghost and regret I have ever went through and made,
Probably more than once will they be met,
But regardless of what happens,
I will walk out of it and continue,
With you inside of me

I'm sorry if I let you down,
And if that's the reason you will never be actually around
I'm sorry I can't take back what I did and the things I said
But if we somehow meet again along this way
I swear I hope you're happy and free and even when im
Bitter and angry at you or myself or the world,
I will always be here for you and I swear I will never let myself
Forget you in any way possible

You completed me in a way that I could never understand
You made me feel a way I had never felt before
You made me a better version of myself,
Sure I still had doubt and self esteem problems,
But you made me strong and brave and fierce and happy and loving and determined and youthful and an endless kind of happy and love
That follows you everywhere you go even when
You can't see it or if you forget it and no longer
Can you feel it in or around you

Even though I'm so freaking down right now
And I cry and feel angry and hurt and confused
Because I still have doubts and self esteem problems
And trust issues and so many more issues,
I can feel it again and you know what?
It's the best feeling I've had in so long that I don't honestly know
How to contain it
It's burning inside me and it's wanting to be set free to spread through
Every vein and muscle and inch of my body

And I love it,
I love this feeling and I feel like it's a feeling that loves me too
And it's foreign but remembered and that makes me love it even more
And I'm starting to love myself again slowly and I know it takes time and
I hate how im still so impatient with everything and how
I envy those with patience because that's a part of who they are and
It's not a part of me but it may eventually be because who knows what the future holds

And I hope your present is bright and fruitful and
Somehow everyday something happens and you find
Even more of a reason to beam so brightly
And everyday after that is bigger and better and warmer
Because I love you like I have never loved anyone because there was never supposed to be anyone but you

And if the possibility of someone else in the future arouses,
If everything is really too late,
I will never let them change me unless it's positive
They can add onto what I and yourself helped put into me
And you will still never go away,
This love for you will never go away like it never really did,
Just fogged and pushed away
But it isn't anymore, it never will be again

Because I enjoy this love,
It doesn't feel weighed down and suppressed with the liability of demands and expectations
It's pure and whole and giving and peaceful
It's a love that is loved

He looks like the type
To mock religion
For the soul purpose of getting under your skin,
Chasing his dream from what I remember you telling me
While I expect nothing at this point in life
And am still let down by everything,
Mainly myself obviously
Maybe with my ability
To predict makeshift prophecy's
I could move to California,
Become the modern day Charles Manson
Minus the murdering,
I cry over almost hitting an animal in the road
And the followers?
Akin to Helen Keller,
The inability to realize I am physically nothing
To be obsessed over and they don't comprehend
The complete ******* I spew from my mouth
About connections and ideas.
Even with the followers,
Your stamped-over question mark existence
Would still be boiling water in my vains,
Insects in my muscles,
A riddle in my head,
Confusion in my heart
Does it excite you to be everything you despised about school?
Does it still bring satisfaction to know
You have the ability to turn tables better than anyone
And years later still have me on my toes
With no solid proof of who you are?