When you're afraid
you lose out.
You'll miss opportunities you could have had.
When you're angry
you'll ruin all opportunity set in front of you.
Anger leads to spite
and spite crushes all that lies in front of it.
When you're depressed
you'll just stop
or you'll want to.
Depression and sadness
lead to a path that ends where it began.
But hope.
Hope is our most dangerous of all emotions.
It comes from nothing.
We as human beings
will create hope anywhere
at anytime.
And
while to some this may seem powerful
I can't help but find it a flaw.
There is nothing worse in this world
not apathy
not rage
not terror
than being left without that spark you created.
There is nothing worse
than finding your hopes to be false.

Life never
turns out how you'd like.
It never steers you where you'd think it would
where you hoped it would.
Life constantly hands you a left
when you wanted a right.
Gives you a hand full of ****
when the other guy
gets a royal flush.
I've now come to know
that it's just inevitable.
Expect nothing.
Hope nothing.
Life will never give you
what you think you need.
It never gives you what you ask for.

Suffering,
Like light rain,
Loud as thunder,
Alone like wind about the face.
I know it
As an empty bed,
Made, but not slept in;
An unplanted garden
Left empty on the plate.
Don't tell anyone
How you feel,
How we suffer
The agony alone.
There's an occasional text
To remind one of lonliness,
Especially around twelve o'clock.

Where?
Where does misery end
and
happiness begin?
I'm now certain
the line does not reside
at the bottom of a bottle.
I've finished many
to find nothing but an empty vessel.
I've chain smoked my way
through a thousand packs
to find myself still wanting.
I've loved.
I've hated.
And still I have to ask
where?
Where is the line one crosses
into happiness?
Into peace.

She said there are no men
There are no women
Only people
The rose lips were petals that
Moved in the sun bleached wind

No I said
There must be a separation

Yes , your separation I can see now
Is complete

So I see the after Christmas trees
Lying in the alleys
In January

She said there are no men
There are no women
Only trees pretending
To be people
Shedding ***** needles
In the alleys
Lying face down
Cold and covered in frost

Their separation
Now complete
No longer men
No longer women
They've become
Forgotten people

Maybe if I write a poem about her
she'll finally listen.

(reads through own poems)

Oh, ****, nevermind...
                                                  ..­.I tried that already...

I stepped down into the creekbed
from atop the gravel path leading off into the woods.
and found myself at peace.

It was brief,
but for a moment I couldn't feel her presence
even though she was right behind me.

The shallow water slapped my ankles
and I stood fixing my pants as I scanned my new horizons,
noticing her clear reflection on the water.

Alas, as I turned to offer her a smile
I saw her look down and drop her hands,
putting her phone back into her pocket.

At the time I thought she was disinterested.
Just checking facebook.
Or texting her real friends.

Yet I was glorified whence I discovered she was just taking a picture.

Taking a picture of me.

Me standing in the water,
me scanning my horizons,
and me forgetting all about her.

If I threw up, would you judge me from the contents of my stomach. Or would you lend a helping hand?

Would you tenderly strip the filthy clothes from my back, or judge me for the lack there of?

Had I broken down and scored hate deep into my flesh, would you bandage all the blood, or judge me for the healed ones?

Help me, help you, help me, help you, help me....help you

Cars are coffins for selfish alcoholics