We started out nothing
And as nothing we shall end

Kind of hurts
to feel as if you will never truly

have a best friend

Unless you're still with the one you come to know and both feel close
or somehow grew close to each other
Or grew up with one another

Watching people who just met on the spot become close
then just when you think it's going to happen to you
It doesn't
Instead someone else smoothly makes their way in
and take the person

Both laughing , talking
Next thing you know

......you're forgotten......

than you have this void
This certain spot in your heart
That you can't seem to fill

no matter how hard you try

So you forget about it
Until you feel close to someone again
then realize and watch how close that person really is with another
Then you're just standing there

with this gut crushing feeling

that you're never to find someone like that

There she was just
walking down the street,
high heels on dam how
big are those girls feet,
she gave me a smile I gave
one back, she said how are
you but I was staring at her
rack.

She asked for my number
I asked her if she wanted
to come back, a coffee a smile
we were soon to be in the sack.

She groped my rope, I fondled
her **** back, what a lovely bra
hiding such a nice rack, I licked
them, bit them played with the
puppies, god I love her rack.

She moved down, I wasn't expecting
that, she licked it like a lolly, to the
back of her throat, wow I'm in
heaven I cant wait to get in the
sack.

She finished me off with a smile
and a lick, the best head I've had
never has anyone done those things
which they **** my rope back.

She moved my head, I was like I,m
up for that, but didn't expect so much
hair, then in-between a meat and two
veg, what the **** is up with that.

I never ran so fast with my boxers around
my knees, I got ****** off by woman, man
what the hell is up with that.

confused I am she had such a lovely rack,
give head like a goddess, but a pretty man
woman no way on earth would I give in
to that.

sometimes my parents will ask me
"are you really going down that road again"
with such disdain and bitterness
and it just makes me so angry
because they do not realize that depression
is not a road one chooses to go down
and it is not a road one can easily exit
it is an unpaved road riddled with cracks and potholes
with no street signs or stoplights to guide us safely home
and to accuse someone of willingly taking that road?
well, that is how some of us end up there in the first place
-

Living  life wondering, do I matter? Did he actually care? The time the effort the love the patience the stress the heartache the pain. All for you and still nothing. Nothing, nothing at all. Not once but twice and I've been nothing but nice. Lying there broken, like a broken vase waiting patiently to be put back together. But afraid to be broken once again.

I am the third pair of hands when only two are needed,
The second set of ears when the first is otherwise occupied.
I am the follower in conversation,
The chimer-in of small, unimportant thoughts.
I give good advice that is rarely taken,
But never say "I told you so."
I am the one in the background, seldom noticed
*But I am always there

Silence like the inhale
before the exhale
of the ex-pianist
who lost his arm
saving his quadrant
from a land mine.

A moment of silence
for the men and women
who gave their lives
for a country of ingrates
who never offer any words of hope
or even a silent smile.

The silence of a mother
brushing her daughters raven-like hair back behind her ear.
A mother who had to beg for one last moment
to memorize every freckle and curve
as well as every pore and eyelash.
The silence of a final embrace.

A smile, quietly plastered on
to hide the screaming youth.
The silence before nervous laughter
swallowing back shallow sobs.

The silence of a wolf stalking its prey
before a bullet enters its brain from behind.
And the silence of the pups
watching from a distance.
Then the clamor of the gunmen
ecstatic with their catch,
falling silent only seconds before
the tortured howling and cries
from the orphaned beasts
surround their sub-conscience
for the rest of their lives.

I am the bird, but crow.
Blessed with black, i know.

I belong to the pageant of birds
Which are called by many words.

I do sing my own lay;
I also welcome the day.

I fly; i rejoice in the breeze.
I play; i leap in the trees.

I take delight in spring.
I like snow, falling.

Alas! I am not hailed at the door.
They shoo me away to soar.

I am cursed; i am much hated,
For i am black, so ill-fated.