Anger, sadness, fear,
All blend together perfectly.
It becomes hard to bear,
The life laid out in front
of them.
  Scary what the mind,
Can give a character to when
Confronting the darkest parts of
your soul.
  You breed in flesh and blood.
A mere thought becomes
a face of a person who
Has a story to tell.
The grief from the painter,
Makes it easy to sell.

i. smile. smile like you are dying, breathing your last breath, like the irony of your pathetic life is the funniest thing in the whole **** world. smile like you're crazy, like you're on a high that doesn't end, a high that you almost wish would. smile like you love the hurt.

ii. put your hands anywhere but your face. wave them in the air, touch another person's skin, run them through your hair. throw your shoulders back, open your mouth and don't you dare wipe your eyes. don't touch the spot on your forehead, don't rub your nose; pretend you are confident in yourself, for once.

iii. walk like you aren't bleeding. walk like there is no glass beneath you, like the knife in your back is a flower blooming. walk like you are moving mountains, like you are causing earthquakes and hurricanes. walk like you are more than something.

the glass is half empty
my mind is too full
negativity is all that tempts me
with its downward pull

with broken feathers
i fall from the sky
when it's always cloudy weather
hope is sure to die

once i was lost
broken and dying
now i can be found
fearlessly flying

I'm a saint of the vapor
that's my God-given nature
I'm only here for a season
with my heart, pen, and paper

When I was younger, I used to think I was going to be a Star.
Under a spotlight where everyone knew my name...
I was five.

Now, I want shadows and to be as far away as possible.
Hidden and far from consequence,
And even further from myself.
Where my name is not a name,
But just another word without any true meaning.

When I was younger, I used to think I was going to be a Star.
Now, I want to disappear.

I should have jumped overboard when I had the chance.

There was a time...
The first rhyme
You ever read to me
That time when I,
Once unappreciative,
But that night...
Fell in love with it.
You recited your hurt like art,
A delicate voice,
But with trembling heart.

During those early days of early love.
I always wanted to read along as you read aloud.

And I would've died to be the page you'd slaved upon.
Tears, blood, passion unrivaled like a daring dawn
That fights the night till the day is gone.
Perhaps it was to feel connected to you,
But I began to write my stories too.
I threaded them together painstakingly,
Usually in the lonesome limbos I felt achingly,
Anxiously,
And it took so long to share myself with you.

Did you know you were the first to ever see them?
You always thought I was beautiful.

Once again, you encouraged the fire free.
And this isn't the only sea
You've taught me to sail.
Now I place my work here
With the sheer raw emotion I so dearly make clear.
It is one of the few things I've made mine.
I never said I had talent, but at least I can rhyme!
And now?

Now I write for me.

What am I doing?
I'm so glad you asked
Waiting for an author to write a perfect book
Waiting for an artist to paint the perfect canvas

Watching the stars for a moment
Hoping something will collapse
I guess I'm just painfully, desperately waiting
For something miraculous to happen

Everything stops.
Rain stops falling like
a two-year-old’s tantrum tears,
and rocks stop skipping when
inertia gives in to gravity.
Clocks stop ticking when the
gears start to rust,
and hearts stop beating, like
a melody too tired to play.
Just as “I love you” stops buzzing like
insects in my head,
and you stop caring whether or not
we see each other that day.
Eventually, our time here will stop, too.
And looking back,
maybe you’ll wish
that I never stopped and that
you never gave yourself
the chance to.

I was going to write him a poem
but the only word I could think of was
'stay'


And that's all I wrote.

She changes her mind like the weather.
One moment shes a flower blooming in May but with the flip of a switch
shes a cold January blizzard.

Its already December.
Shes disappointed with the lack of snow this year,
as her hearts been stuck in a dull winter.
With wide blue eyes full of fear
she's waiting for death to kiss her.
Spring flowers have been long dead,
Now shes eager for the return of death.
Maybe he took the wrong turn?
He seems to be running late.
For now she's making snow angels out of wilted petals,
patiently awaiting her fate.

I look out and see the city
All the shining lights
The cars coming and going
The people living
And think
Wow.
I live in a big world

Moments are like scoops of ice cream
One minute they are there and solid
The next, they begin to melt and mix
Until you can’t remember the taste
All that you know is that you had
A scoop or two
Of ice cream