I can hear your breathing next to me,
as the rain falls slowly upon the glass.

Every breath, as if you were fighting,
every flash, as if you were lighting
a path to bring me back to you.

I can hear the warmth of the winds
resonating through your body;

A song of innocent agony-
The anxiety of an unyielding soul.

Golden Autumn, sweet sorrows, forgotten;
Come flooding back to me as I'm only yours.

Mold my body viciously and
perfect me for your pleasure.

I am the heaven, the flesh, the earth,
I am yours.

Let the distance between us be some day diminished
for as my feelings grow stronger, my spirit can’t bear this burden forever.
I’ll offer up my heart to your hands and so hope they aren’t weak,
for if my heavy heart should fall, it may shatter as glass.
Let the sky above be our witness and the earth below be our guide,
until the day we meet each other’s embrace, let our souls be intertwined.

There’s this place on the internet,
where I can see the world from behind a screen.
I can meet people who like the same things I do
and they don’t judge me for liking them, at all.
It’s almost like it’s the ultimate culmination
of every anxiety-ridden
nerd,
artist,
or geek
in a single website.
But this place,
it takes away from the time
I should be using to get work done,
or be hanging out with my “real life” friends.
And people tend to get a bit upset about that.
But I’m perfectly content with wasting hours
upon hours there. Because when you log-in,
you do start to lose track of time in every sense,
but you also become inspired, and I think that
I’ve slowly become addicted to that place because
there are so many great ideas there. Now, the problem
is making time to actually try out some of those ideas.

In the third grade,
I was diagnosed with
Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder.
My teachers thought I was lazy and
my parents thought I was under stimulated.
I just thought I was having more fun doodling
and drawing than paying attention in class.
But the school suggested that I see a children’s psychiatrist,
so my parents took me to one in Wichita.
He prescribed me experimental pills and drugs,
but all they did was make me unstable and depressed.
My parents stopped giving me my medicine
and I went back to normal…
Well, aside from the fifty plus pounds I had
put on as a side effect of the drugs.

A poet walks into a bar and proceeds to discover life in the form of
cheap liquor,
clove cigars,
blues music,
passing glances,
hazy dreams,
and terrible dancing.

He then writes about love and loss,
waking in the morning only to wonder
why there are ink stains and sketches
in his journal.

What did you see in those birds that
made you want to travel the world?
Was it the way their wings let them
leave for wherever they wanted?
Because you did just that, you left
after school and traveled the world,
capturing the beauty of the wild in
still-framed glory, meeting the love
of your life, studying the kilns of the
artistic gods where silicon, chlorine,
sulfur, and iron ran red like the blood
in your veins and as hot as the passion
in your heart. You lived as a child of
the forges of the earth.

PAST
The lonely kid who didn’t have friends because of an overbearing mother
The rebellious teenager who wouldn’t go to church
The high school theater ****** who sloughed his grades for acting
The high school senior who graduated by some miracle
The gas station attendant who hated his job
PRESENT
The half-man mess of emotions trying to grow out of childhood
The last minute student who’s trying to trying to fix his mistakes
The unemployed wreck of a person trying to find his place
The love-stricken jack of all trades that can’t settle for imperfection
FUTURE (hopes)
The successful IT who just moved to the United Kingdom
The artist who can accept that his creations are beautiful
The writer who isn’t tortured by a lack of self worth and anxiety
The adventurous romantic who travels the world by his side
FUTURE (fear)
The bitter man who couldn’t let go of all of his pain and hurt
The old man who couldn’t learn to be a part of his own family
The man lying on the bed, neither dreaming nor thinking, just lost
The shell of a man who never tried and only failed himself in the end