On being ask why I waste my time writing poetry.*

A poet lives three times:
once remembering,
once writing,
once being read.

Three lives unfolding
the genetic code
of the soul.

Not such easy
lives to create,
but they produce
a map of memory
that vindicates
your existence
and may lead strangers
to small, keen joys
they never imagined.

Modest delights
keep hearts alive.

  ~mce

The colors all internalized in me
Are killing me inside
The red of fire in my veins
Keeping me alive
The blue of cold inside my heart
Chilling every bone
The black hidden deep in my chest
The color of my merciless soul
The yellow-brown of my bile
That burns and stings my flesh
But none of these painful colors
Have been able to **** me yet

decides to grace you with her presence,
run.

She's got roses in her hair
And mud over her heels
Sun  kissed  skin shines
As she dances in the meadow

Her laughter  sings
Throughout the cornfield
The breeze  twirling her
In a ballroom; like a lover

Eccentric is what she seems
But really she's a girl
A girl who is free
To spend her days frolicking
In nature's  *company

You met me at a very strange time
In my life
When I didn't want to be saved
When all I wanted
Was to be buried alive
And I don't know how
But
You made me want to save myself
And that's how
I knew
You were dangerous

I can literally feel the sadness in my bones.
My heart ******* aches and I'm losing control.
This **** has been killing me so it's time to let go.
Sit back and listen because this story is mine,
Its utter madness but now you'll know why I never trust guys.
I don't think God is real, never have, never will.
They say he loves all his children but don't you see how he breaks them?
I'm not just some atheist because I know this for sure.
Not once has God answered, he's just sent the devil to my door.
You would think the devil isn't human,
But he's as real as me and you.
He doesn't have horns but his favorite colors are black and blue.
Monsters don't hide under beds,
They walk into your room and restrain you under covers.
He pulls back the blanket and I'm staring into the eyes of my own brother.
God smiles, not cries,
As the devil he created shoves the wrong
Definition of love between my thighs.
I can't even call him a fallen angel
Because he never even made it to heaven.
Although he probably felt like it while he ***** me when I was 11.
Naked and scared, I prayed to god but he wasn't there.
I asked God why he dammed me to hell
I never got an answer but maybe I'm the angel that fell.
God said **** it, so I did too.
Years later, Impulsive desicions made me look like a fool.
These demons play hard and knock me to the floor.
But every night I crawled back fiending for more.
I started locking my door because
His empty eyes were burning through my skin.
All "God" has taught me is good hearts never win.
He creates bad men because he's obsessed with sin.
He sends lost souls to my door because
I'm so empty and desperate I let them in.
God did teach me one lesson back when I was 11.
"Close your eyes and think of a song,
you have no reason to feel so wronged,
Stop fighting the devil, accept the ****.
When someone actually wants you,  learn to appreciate."
The words stuck in my head for 7 years
Now I've got a new demon who whispers in my ear.
Drink a bottle, pop a pill, smoke ****, make yourself bleed.
"As long as you have drugs it's all you'll ever need"
Day after day, fighting to get clean
But the devils always watching and never lets go
I've never met a fallen angel so mean and so cold.
We fear his grasp but no ones ever prayed for his soul.
Why not pray for the one who needs it the most?
Because God gives up on all lost souls.
He did it to me, everybody knows.
He'll put you in battle, you'll die for sure.
There's gun shots in my head, so gimme some pills to fight this war.
Make the pain numb, learn to **** like a *****.
It seems like an endless battle but that's what the drugs are for.
So my advice to you is to never open that door
It's not worth it, I'm sure.
So when you hear a knock, go hide in your room.
God only sends men to break and bruise.
It's all about power and dope,
A ****** ******* nose.
They only hit you where the marks don't show.
In 97' God stopped caring about others,
So if you open that door
you might be staring into the eyes of your own brother.

And take it from me,
You'll never recover.

Suffering
is the landscape
of life.

Hope is
the sustenance
of life.

To avoid suffering
is to avoid life.

Love yourself.

Love other's
even though
they don't
deserve it.

Be gentle
with yourself,
even when utterly
fatigued and
victimized.

Make you life
a poem that
you create
and hold it
close to your
heart.

The best
you can do
is all you can do.

  ~mce