Through the walls, in the streets.
Contrasting forces in anger will meet.
Differing ideals will turn into action,
Only one will remain as a faction.

It wasn't a slit through my wrist,
not a gunshot on my mouth,
not a rope wrapped around my neck,
it was not an overdose.

It was the thoughts running through my head,
the words that cannot escape,
the anxiety, the pain, the hatred
it was over.

I love her.
No not ******* worldly,
But softly, purely , celestially.
Obsessively?
Not necessarily, just completely,
selfishly and I'm sorry.
I love her unconditionally, some say unconventionally.
But they don't understand me.
Yes...I love her.
Most spiritually, asexually, platonically and wholly.
I love her, truly, honestly, musically and poetically...
She doesn't have to love me.

In a midwinter night’s dream
  i found myself lost again,   
  or was it even this year ?
  It may even go back farther
  than yesterdays out of reach,  
  older than an ancient pyramid stone
 
Before the rebirth of past life deposits,
  unborn orphaned motherless sediment,
  flotsam of the ages adrift,
  unknown for more than a thousand years

... waiting for so long to see beyond the bounds

High atop a slippery edge-cliff
  i clung  ―            
Searching for a deeper understanding
  of who i am;

Roosting like a starving bird of prey
  with a broken wing
  born alone ... holding on
  With a fear in his eyes
that only i could comprehend
  
  Staring way down deep in the pith,       
into an internal pitch black abyss,
  just begging to see beyond ―
  Mindful it's so hard looking
  into the eye of a storm

Intimately parsing the recurrent source
  of reigning pain
Where the perpetual fog of isolation dwells;
an inversion,     preventing dispersion
  of the nimbus  cold  and  dark

In the darkness, there bides a suffocating
  emptiness,  
  A swelling silence what loudly knells,
  leeching through a perennial ache

An abating voice within hollers unheard,
  invisible as a bitter cold wind howling
  relentlessly through the hollow pang;
  Echoing the subsiding say
(squeezed out) ... of an orphaned soul
  deep beneath the light

Awakening to realize  ―  once i was alive
  and
i could feel me holding on to you



//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

It is the midnight
of another year
That stole so much
from so many
And tore like rabid dogs
At our skin
And will leave us bleeding
On the asphalt
As the earth completes its race
Around the sun,
But this year I learned
What it means to be a fighter
Sweat dribbling in my eyes
Muscles screaming from the effort
Even when I have fallen to my knees
I am still here
I am a fighter because of this year
A warrior
And as the sun rises on the first dawn
Of the new year
I will raise my fists and widen my stance
I am ready.

once you buy a fresh pair, the black is vivid and strong and the toe cap is still perfectly intact, no scuff to be found

but after time, chucks wear thin and your favourite pair gets tossed and replaced with a replica that is never as good as the first.

it’s confusing you see, because if you loved something so dearly, a few scuffs from memories and love wouldn’t be such a problem, if anything you’d hold onto those worn up chucks as a reminder that love will wear things down, but the wear and tear is the most beautiful thing because it means you’re settling.

but i guess you don’t like things that are old, which must be why you treated me the same as your old chuck taylor’s.

Poetry
to me
is taking
my pain
and making
it sing.

the term is spiral
but it's more a
plummet, a drop
on a rollercoaster

a downward spiral
sounds like a waterslide
all smooth splashes
bubbles of laughter

but it's more like
the cutoff when your
heart jumps out of the
hole in your stomach
just hold your
hands up and scream

when some get sad
you spiral slowly
things pile up and
they slip and slide

when i get sad it's
freefall but i guess
i'm used to
bumps on rides

but it's all in the
way we fall