Writing in ink brings security.
Because my mistakes can never be erased.

A last minute worker on a mission.
Being a busy bee.
Talking a game too big for his ego.
Leading into a massive contradiction.
Wondering, what is the role of society?
Telling you to be everything you can be.
So you make up tall tales to excite.
But only left with excruciating anxiety.
A man that had it all verbally .
But nothing to show for his empty words.

He contemplates his next move.
Knowing that might even lead to procrastination.
"It always does," he says.
"But does it have to?" Asks his conscience.
Dumbfounded now, because he understands the right answers.
Coming from the back of his mind.
Creeping through.
So his work will get done.
And get him out of this bind.
"Thank you," he thinks.
"You're welcome," replies his conscience.
"Anytime."'

It must be this third cup
of coffee that has me on
edge. But not to confuse
anxiety for indigestion.
I'm sick to my ******* stomach.

Maybe you could be a little sweeter?

I said, maybe you could pass the sweetener.

I'm not one to stir the ***,
but I need something fresh.
This is stale, and the grinds
taste like pennies.
My spit is red.

The best part of waking up,
is having a *** to **** in,
to have a glass half full,
but who is the fool?

The fool is the man,
that runs out of coffee filters,
and uses toilet paper,
instead.

I drink my coffee black.
It's an absolute.
Why mix cream?
When I don't believe,
everything is so black,
and white.

What I do take,
makes tomorrow.
Goodbyes, do not happen,
until the next day.
Closed eyes.
Goodbyes.
Until next times.
Why sleep,
only to wake in analysis.
Red eyes; because sleep is
for death.
When your arms go numb,
you find release.
Dark circles.
Light moans.
Sleep deprivation.
Self deprecation.
REALationships.
A man stuck in the clouds,
because walking on solid ground,
will eventually become worn;
cracks form
and spread,
and that is time.
Time makes no mistake.
Time shows the etch lines,
sketched in a face.
The rings on a log.
The ***** jewel.
Words that still resonate.

I'm a grown child.
Twenty-five, in a little while.
A quarter century.
I believe, we are all children,
at this age.
At thirty.
Forty.

We seek fulfillment.
And, I suppose,
when we have children,
it will implement this unknown,
Intensity.
We live for intensity.
We suffer by convenience.

Remember, having a child,
does not make you grown.
Simply seen, is child with child.
The biggest responsibility,
in life, is life.

Where are you without knowledge?
What are you able to pass on?
An idividual mark is small.
A blip on the radar.
Insignificant,
when you're a grown
child.

People can see into the future.
Their future.
One with others.
One with others gone.

Time.
Is.
Man-made.
Happiness.
Is.
A.
Choice.

The bad day.
The awkward situation.
The birthday.
The ride home.
The next day.

Heart and mind decide.
Who we let into our world.
And what we read,
and who we are,
allows us to be intimate,
we excel by far.

What does that mean?
You're acting funny.
I'm not in the mood.
Are you ******* serious?
I've had enough!

In any close relationship,
fights will happen.
They always happen.
Start to finish.
Friendships seemed diminished.

I'm sorry.
Me too.
My fault.
No mine.
Friends?
Friends.

Every relationship we hold.
With men and women.
Define us.
And when you have friends,
it is your decision to be apart,
of their lives.
It takes nothing but heart.
So fear never strives.

Happiness.
Is.
A.
Choice.

It was the drugs.
I said through clenched teeth,
as pressure on extremity,
exposed vein, in vain.
Left me pondering false immunity.

There is romance that goes along with destruction.
The needle gleams in the candle light,
the brown powder starts to bubble,
euphoria will make all right;
mixed around, it swirls.
Stronger than a cup of coffee,
weaker than a peaceful sleep.
Chemicals prolong internal pain.
Tears produced from withdrawal weep.

Fallacies of ambition spread.
Others see you, as eyes shut.
You're always awake.
And you'll make your point,
make no mistake.
As body meets grave.
As ground envelops granite stake.

How much did he take?
This can't be real, this must be fake!

How much did he take?
This must be fake.