He found it in a box of things of days gone by
Took it out and loved it though it was old and missing an eye
He took it to his bedroom and tucked it into bed
He gave it his favorite pillow to rest its weary head
When I tucked him and saw my oldest childhood friend
I was torn inside of memories of days that had to end
I took it from its resting place and hugged it to my heart
Tattered and ragged I tried my best to fix its broken parts
A new eye and some sutures, fixing all its wounds of old
I tucked it back inside the sheets so it wouldn't feel the cold
When he awakened in the morn, he came running in to me
Holding up the teddy bear who was fixed miraculously
I told him that it was my very best buddy when I was a child
And asked if I could hold it once, for just a little while
I told him how his eye was lost thanks to a neighbors dog
And how I dragged him through the woods chasing hopping frogs
And then he said how he was fixed all like magic overnight
And I said that's because he found a friend to hold him tight
So now he has my bestest bud from seeming eons past
And he was healed in loving arms of a new friend meant to last

She's so beautiful,
I'm speechless,
So, I'll write
About her.

What if I was born out of soft *** cries and blooming flowers?
If I was born from the tears of the people in the falling towers?
If I was made by the gods or nature and trees,
If I was made out of spite to bring my father to his knees.

If I was made out of fluorescent lights and ambient sounds,
If I fell from the sky onto unholy grounds,
What if I ****** it up real bad and they sent me from hell,
And I was born with no memory of it and no secrets to tell.

Or I was just born from my mothers womb,
Boring but probably true,
She took all her love and gave me my youth.
But I don't quite remember so I'll have to make things up,
Of how I was made and born here,
How I became bad luck.

How ****** it is,* is all
I ever hear about
Things.

So polish the ****.
Put make-up on the
Pig.

On every piece of space-junk
There is a thin film of
Astronaut's

Business,
They tell me.
So look past it.

We're all
Partly
Soil;  

There's crap in everything.
Focus on what isn't.
The Devil's in the

Details, so I suppose
God is in the
Rest.

Show me a sunset.
And don't point
Out

The
Dying
Light.

Or the lack of
Poetry on
A blank

Page. The paper had
Nothing to do with
It,

Nor the night skies with how
The sun came
And

Ruined
It
All.

If we were more like ourselves
How long could we keep up this act?
Dodging each other,
Only saying meaningless "Hellos"
And questions,
Never pausing to stop and actually
Think,
Feel,
Take the time to know someone,
Who they truly are,
Deep down,
And then
Pause.

So they know that they aren't the only one there.

the heat freezes
bearings seize heating up
until frozen
un-movable
against all
the wrong gets
un-bearable
then I shut down
go off far
away where gravity
and hopelessness
and physics
where energy is
no more hot.
Stop it all.
freeze time,
suspend gravity.
float back,
eventually?
cool down,
back to
Earth.