You make me feel
   Low
  Depressed @ times
  Have me thinking like oh I'll never be good enough
    Not only for you but for any one else I
     Encounter
    Worthless of my existence
    We used to be close for a while
      Even kinda promised me oh
      Make you day
            MORE
                              Often,,,,,
              Now we barely talk...
              Don't wanna tell me what flushed down the drain
     My heart has been cut & can't be fixed wounds
          Wish it was bandaged already  
        How can u be sooo cruel
        Like your pouring salt in them
    I can't stop thinking about what I've done
          This month's supposed to be romantic
         I have a little bit of rage too cause of this
        When your eyes have met mine
         The connection is weird
         I can't take
                        it
            When you had called for her name
            My heart had sunken  a few feet to my stomach
            Your voice when you use her name
            Want that sound in tune of MY name
             Asking what's up but not to me...
              I was in the room before her too
                   Maybe her appearance attracted you
              But tell u this
                                 I'm don't got the appearance  
                         Much but I got heart of gold...

Sun shining on the white shells
Of pearls cradled in mid-day warm
Sands will not excuse herself

For making them sparkle hot
Under her invisible hands.
Snow landing on the faces of

The battleground fallen
Rests as easily as on the forehead
Of a fever ridden child now soothed.

Tides rise and withdraw, rains
Drench even the drowning.
This is why you must feel the pain

You do. Finish this bad day.
Meet tomorrow
Older.

If you were a poem
I could write you easily
If you were a poem
I would not have nightmares about you
If you were a poem
I would not be sweating
If you were a poem
I would not be fretting
If you were a poem
I would not have rough draft after rough draft
piling up at my feet
If you were a poem
I could finally get some good sleep
If you were a poem
I could keep my sanity within reach
I could lie lazily at a beach, if only in my imagination
If you were a poem
The problem is that you are not a poem
If only you were a poem instead of  being an
Essay

The black man stalks my dreams again.
With his oil spill eyes
And venomous smile
He speaks in tounges
And bent up promises.

He jokes, Call me Cain.
Adam Judas Satan Jesus
Gabriel ******* Whale.
I call him the Whale
For he has swallowed me whole.

He is the flood
and I am swept away debris.
He calls me Seven
(That *******)
One for every sin I've mastered.

In the darkness of night, or by the light of day
Waiting for hours with nothing to say
When wonder turns worry and knowledge to doubt
The truth becomes lies and silence to shout
The louder the cry the more muffled the plea
Lost miles away from where we should be
Open and honest and ugly and raw
Without wasting time with the hem and the haw
Memories fight oversights hidden by masks
Begging a thought is a torturous task
Still waiting for a hint or a clue or a sign
That the strength of a heart beats the power of mind

It rolls in slow like the fog
Helpless to stop it from stealing
Stealing every emotion you're feeling
'Til you're a bump on a log

Colorful, vivid trails of motion
Consuming visual acuity
Leaching verbal perspucuity
Making reality a useless notion

Wringing  beauty from stagnation
Colorizing gray cement
Brick by brick it paints lament
Into farcical animation

Taking over fantasy
Cartoon smiles and laughing fits
All the fruit without the pits
Beautifying all you see

I miss you baby
I want to be next to you right now
I don't care about all the dumb **** that happened between us, I just want to hold you in my arms.

I hear a song on the radio, and think of you.
I see a great view and feel the empty space where you should be standing next to me.
I think of something funny or **** or weird or dark and I want to call or text but I know you will not answer.

I cry often, lately.

It didn't need to end.
We did some crazy **** but it didn't have to end.

So close...

She likes an archaeologist
cos he does it in the dirt

and the older she gets
the more he likes to flirt

She likes the way he smells
in a faded work shirt

hard and lean
but not mean
just a little bit assertive

He still let's her roll
her own cigarettes

and handles her gently
like a gold statuette

while they dance
with the shadows
down low

you know.

I wished that I am the lies themselves so you can adore me as much as you adore them ....