My words have always been reserved for the people that mean the most to me.

I've burnt my bridge,
I've delved my dives
I broke my word
I died so many times.

I hoped you'd see
I thought you'd think
I wrought my self
I scared myself.

There's no need
thesis fed
broken found
thoughtfulness made bound.

I'm scared to care for others
I'm aware of fair play
at least I thought about your heart
But we were better off from finish to start.

You do realize, you haven't had the hardest life. Steve Bushime and Leonard Nemoy can out weigh family crisis. especially car crash's and morality aside.
You were endowed with more opportunity than most around.
After all,
we were taught to walk in your shadows.
yes
you were in that category.
Because we were considered the faulty programing of your adopted sister.
So our only opportunity was to adapt from the predecessors our grandparents Aspired us to
CH to DA
TR to JA
CO to carbon dioxide.
If you were worried about making an impact. trust me. you only fell like a shooting star.
the crater is nothing.
With your lessons
I want to do what D did.
But I wont, because of two reasons






if you_cared = true
{
we wouldnt be where we are
}

Hunting without friends, is meager and meaningless.
Dire is the contract in my heart, fearless and seamless.
Internal is my engine infernal is my heart.
I'll tear away at the skin of this mask to reveal what hides behind it.
I'll tear up at the thought of us cheering at a year well done.
I am only human made thought.
brought not gods eyes but the lack of made in someone's thought.
Discussing idea's without friends is thoughtless.
Pyre is the thought that comes to mindfulness.
Hands curled up on shoulders too cold to consider.
The match box flickers only once more

I could bare a thousand screams, A thousand wounds, scars and burns.

I could **** a thousand men for a moment in the eyes of god.

What I wouldn't do just to carve a crevice out of the world

Just to show the mark of a mad man craving truth.

Put a knife straight to gods eye if it meant the blood I shed made one less person cry.

I've beg for forgiveness and broken every bond looking for an out.

I've come again trading my soul for a chance for others to hear my shout.

You'll be ok.

I think, for a matter of fact.
I feel, I project, I confide, and of all things I hope.

With that in my mind, I reflect and coincide with these aspects so covalent.

But what about what I reject?
The matter of the individual is the gradual unequivocal repression and growth of that individual

It is required for the soul

Nothing is required.

Nothing is required beyond what existence requires.
"good" or "bad"

And just as people exist so too does existence.
We demand so much and request so much.

Existence can only provide what we provide for existence.

This is my semblance to actuality, not minimalism.

I reject what could be, for a future that's beyond me.

Do you remember D?
He was awesome.
I can't say I knew him.
All I can say is I wish I was there.
And an artist can romanticize the end
As much as a child cries about being born.
D,
Was about everything in-between.
A laugh for the sake of a laugh.
He was divinity on earth encased in the flesh of a comedian before his time.
He was the moment I realized my myopic lens was shifted in a non righteous view.
Why?
He showed my that when I look at the bright side.
The shadows never compare to the landscape.
He always kicked my *** at magic.
He was a lesson and gift.
The coolest guy I knew.
My biggest regret is knowing I didn't have to make time.
I was the idiot who didn't listen to the man, who knew we always have time.

In a moment
without  rational momentum
you declared,
you didn't care
and that's fair
but in regards to actuality
and physicality.
I'm sorry I've been damaged
Rearranged  to fit implementation than rationality.
I'm sorry i'm not ******
I'm sorry i'm not wanting
I'm sorry for being me.
I'm sorry for me.
I'm sorry for being me and you having to deal with it.
In perspective.
I only acted as you demanded
As I was reprimanded for my performance I saw a moment to repent.


I don't care to.

Remembering the death of yourself is as important as your birthday.
Do not forget the moments you spent devouring yourself for the contentment of others.
In remembrance, give memory to the times you've destroyed yourself for others.
what is more than you?
the others who've devoured themselves for you.
We've all got a cost; whether it's our plasma, body or emotions.
With this notion in mind, keeping in mind,
we ourselves are for sale.
Every transaction is not without gain and undoubtly with loss.
uncourtly as it may be. we find value in our transactions.
when we partake in putting weights on scales who's value only exists based on realities distorted by histories written by victors who don't care nor dare trace scars at two a.m.  and say.
...
...
...
I love you.
Because eight letter sentences don't make happy endings. actions speak louder than words so what the hell are we saying? who are we portraying  when we betray ourselves thinking eight letters can build a castle.

Memento mori  to the being who dies every day.

This is reality
It's not without burden and its not without wounds.
But the burden of living gives way to boons so flavorful and delightful.
I might die every day
Just to live once.

I don't have any more words to say.
I don't have anything wise enough to teach you something new.
I look back at the last three years and I consider what that looks like.
Is it merely two strangers that have savagely danced around our egg shells?
Merely two poker players with an understanding of each other who have no reason to hold face.
Was I merely just a tinder date you got too attached to or am I someone you recognize when you fall back on good times?
Am I merely a convenience like your disastrous inheritance.
Am I a grace and relief like your disastrous inheritance.
Either way I am the one that is disastrously here.
My value is that of a red ball to a dog who desires a single ball.
But,
forgets about it every time its thrown.
That was cold.
But you have been too.

it appears to be a sickness of the soul
in truth,
it is human to be a fool.
I hope to cultivate something that grows beyond me.
I hope to see something that towers me.
like an intensity enticed by agony but it's weight lifted of its immensity on the value of its words and the promise that continuously grows.

My dreams are enshrouded in a silk of death and destruction erupting into a curtain fire that blocks off a room of its single entry.
When awake I stand as sentry, bags on my eyes heavier than my body.

And those dreams that bare no nightmare.
All I can see is open skies and full seas.
untouched forests and no one else.
I just take in the moment and stare.
I brush my hands along the bark of every tree.
I take the time to reconcile with my self.

I've written love letters, suicide notes, inspirational essays, stories,
and most of all I've written poems.

Even so the feelings come and go.
and that's what I do,
I just go.
You see Taoism has taught me some things.
Go with the flow.
I am most useful when my mind is clear.
The things I hope to keep become my fear.
so I let it go.

I let it go,
Not like rocks in a river only to be dredged up by passing currents
But like the words I've committed to parchment
that happiness and sadness are life's concurrence

If given the chance;
Should we not be better than our parents?
These people who live like the earth is theirs;
Like tyrants.

Patricide beneath us,
Grace taught from our disgrace
Peace made from grief,
Strength bonded through the clench in our teeth.

I thought us a different breed,
As childish as it may be to hear or read,

But I thought us different
A bloodline of heroes forgotten to times passing.
People who's sole reason was to bring out the soul in others.
That honor was doing the right thing when no one else was watching.

I know god has pried his eyes away when we needed him most.
But should we be so willing to do the same and give way to suffering and pain and just raise a glass and toast?

It was a child's dreams,
Borrowed from books on our grandmothers shelves with loose seams.
A book about us,

That we would rise above our parents and be the things they couldn't.
That we could stop history from going to the future where it shouldn't.

I thought we were different
but maybe you're right,
life is indifferent.

Little known is the thought we throw to the side.
inside insidiously we tried
to hide the being with the wish I hope to confide.

Let alone the disillusioned idea of property or love owned by the self.
let alone the thoughts we've left canned on the shelf.
Like a man with no remorse I open those cans with a thought in mind.

I hope I can find your love inside of at least one, with empathy of my task in kind

A wise man once said,
"To write poetry is to capture a moment."

To tell you how I felt,
was to show you my intent.

To me,
you are Brunhild.
I wish to be Sigurd.
You are Artemis,
I wish to be your faithful hound.

You are my queen,
I only wish to see you crowned.

You receive pros,
I empty my cup.

You crinkle your toes,
I can feel my heart erupt.

You are scared of who you are,
I am brave because I know your potential.

You are beautiful like a star
I would kneel to you, I deem quintessential

But alas,
My beloved lass,
I am not essential.

You told me if you'd buy me a flower, you'd rather grow me a rose bush and send it to every other man you can think of. but i'd be on the end of that list. at least i'd be on the end of that list. all i've ever been is at the end of a list. It hurt more than when we kissed. let alone when i felt your hands on my wrist.

When I asked you what I should do. you told me...
"Yeah, I guess it would make sense to end it now."
I could feel a crippling cold in my lungs mid summer
my heart is no stranger to a strangers lack of care.
It's just a summer ******.

At least when left alone, let alone the thought of being lonely, I never consider taking my own life before its meant to be taken from me.

At least when I talk to you, you remind me like your reliquary for lost tears, you tear through me unraveling my armor to all my inner most fears.

Giving myself a gift of agony inside of antagonizing images of my self.
Ambition and bravery give way to craven humility. disguising howls towards the moon as laughter laughed to soon. I dug my grave today just to give prayer to the future,

I piece myself back together with my words like a surgeon who's done this a thousand times.

He who is practiced in the way of emotion suture

His hands never getting steadier operating on the child inside him with his rhymes.

It never gets any easier
it only gets worse.
After all,
how can you do your job,
when you run out of thread
and there's a thundering in your head.

When you've got twenty-five to thirty for life to become death.
You kind of want to be in control of your last breath

Through moments with silent trepidation
One another was filled with accusation
The wren flew with the prestigious
The rat scurried with the gregarious

She was filled with torment and fear that she fought to quell with flesh complacent, bodies in motion, always feeling indecent.

He was bound by his wrath and fear, swallowing pride just so others could get near, trying not to lose control, always trying to steer.

little known to these two indigenous creatures of my heart
that they both formed at my elementary start.

The rat as my inner love, the wren as my auxiliary love.
A beautiful tight rope of masochistic devilry

There is beauty in resolved emotions.
Storms quelled and waters without motion.

There is beauty in unresolved conflict.
the matter of misunderstanding because of instinct.

I have dined on cadavers of my broken memories.
I have whined at the intrusiveness of tragedy

My dignity denied and pulverized pride has left me thirsting inside.

Left to my own design I twist and turn into an image more stern.

In turn I can feel my match stick burn
I yearn.
I burn.
But i carry myself inside of nesting dolls that falls at the sight of you.

I can only wish you feel this way too.

Sometimes the most simplistic poems are beautiful.

I eat apples because i'm sad, and I like coke too much;

My gums hurt when I bite into the skin of it.
Reminding me that sometimes, the Pleasures of the things that are simple,
are sublimely painful.
like apples, coke in mouthfuls.
It hurts because my gums bleed from chemical burns of stimulates that are lacking opalescence experiances
Jacking my sails  that left me high and dry.
in all odible sensible seriousness,
I'm ready to cry,
hopeing by the end
that I beg
like the children forced to manufacture it,
Hopeing to die.

But I beckon for that pain
Not out of self destructive gain.
But out of recognition for what i've lost.
The identity of the man drowning in Desolate porcelein desserts and tossed into oceans named after the many emotions i'm swayed by.
Sadness leaves me floating,
Anxiety leaves me floundering, Depression has me drowning.
Not a matter of difference but for the sake of juxtaposition.
When Thoughtfulness is chosen.
Happiness lets me see my position.
Then Confidence puts my gears in motion.
Because i've seen bouys floating,
men in yahts gloating,
Survivers floating,
Kids in rags
Not clothing
But like a light house
Your smile
Glowing

I can't think right now because my teeth hurt. From eating apples and likeing coke too much.
But at least I feel alive

In the eye of the maelstrom I found myself. As the torrent of pain surrounded me from all sides. I began to rip torrents into tradewinds and I rode on that agony to new seas. my memory is clouded by the fog, but i search for familiar seas.

I took the core of my suffering out with a pen; with shakey hands I cut with my own words.
gusts of air left my lungs.
I danced for strangers to watch my blood fall. I medicated with carnival tickets and white girls to ease out of winter into spring. I relished in working till my bones bruised, and I still felt empty from it all. because it's empty and lonely in the eye of the storm. I realized that the wind that blows through my hair is apart of me. it is me. That every wave that dares knock me topside. is just someone i've grown to hate. and as my hate grows, the waves grow higher, and as I'm consumed with wrath, the wind blows harder. but i know now. through all the pain and torment. that I am the storm. and if I make it to land, reckoning is upon it. but if i'm to sink to the bottom of the sea I hope no one is hurt for it.

Let's throw ourselves against a wall just to watch ourselves crumble.
In the name of love...
What a wonderful way to self destruct...

When im sitting in the back of your car
And more than god wants to create I want to look into the rear view just to see your eyes.
But I can't look,
because what if I look and your eyes and they aren't looking at mine,
on top of that,
what if you aren't looking at me, because right now I need your attention,
I crave it like blood.
but I obstain like kryptonite.
just the sight of you not keeping me in your sights,
Alone,
In the car with you.
That fills me with an insignificance as insignificant as the star you passed on when you made a wish;
And I can't risk to feel that.
So I obstain from that,
out of preservation

A love letter to pittsburghs river.

im sorry my love, I may not see you tonight, but know I think of you often. not always fondly. But you are never a want, I know what I need. Your cold water to numb my scars. your tongue deep inside my mouth, dareing me to gasp for breath. Your arms wrapping me completely, into a beautiful dream, i'll never have to wake from. slowly like a blanket being thrown onto the sleeper, you cover and engulf me.

Pragmatic is the virtue of diligence. Always active in the common comedy, let alone the discipline desired to do what's destined to unfold before this paragon. His jaw is angled from clenching his teeth in anticipation, her breath steadily drawing in the heavy air around her. Eyes dilating in excitement. All because diligence reaps what is sows

drawtext(the cold dark)
I'm glitching.
there are parts of me where the code runs but nothing prints.
why cant I remember what I wrote.
Overlap,
Unknown variables,
variable emotions.love undefined
variable emotions.trust undefined
variable thoughts.doyoucare undefined
variable thoughts.selfworth does not exist could not be launched


scrthoughts.thecold_dark
if Object(self) = true,
{{
I feel like a faulty copy ripped from someone else's script.
I have a function that lets me scream.
But it wont start.
I have a function that lets me dream.
But it wont start.
My cpu has gone cold while the processor over heats.
I don't know how to get past this last line of code.
I don't know how this code to line get past.
past know to I don't get how..
...
I fear its killing me.
}
if alone  =  true
repeat
}

I'm lost in a sea of my own troubles.
My family's picture grows blurry.
I lost my sense of direction.
its gone so soon like ashes in a flurry. my troubles are quadratic the weight it doubles. This life's enigmatic, the pressure it bubbles. Lost at sea without a paddle. A good god, godless, ripped from the saddle. I don't know why i put so much stock in make believe. Gee maybe i don't know, hopefully it'll be a dream That'll be conceived. Possibly ill received, because greatness is disbelieved, rarely achieved, grandma's dreams cleaved, All the children are ******* grieving. Deceiving our selves, packing the shelves, we're leaving.
Stop.
I have to find my bearing.
Stop.
The waters are cool. The wind is blowing softly.
Right now, just hold her hand.
Listen to the wind.

Welcome back. the tent is raised.
our town is razed,
our eyes go unfazed
Unable to escape a dream come true
Unable to expect to be left with so few.
A calculated loss, given attrition
given munition, and a lack of nutrition.
It wasn't war that we asked for, we just wanted peace.
It wasn't you that we die for, the dignity belongs to ourselves.
When you play that melody on your piano,
In your private home,
Remember me.

Twisted bone towers thirty feet high.
Etched with every promise and every word the doctors said to you. Resonating with the residual chemo left inside.
You collapse.
All those words,
All of those people building you up,
All of it just to watch you fall.

As I looked into the face of a young boy.
I could see the explosion inside his pupils,
Almost as bright as the grin that pierced his closed smile.
It was all too apparent.
He had an idea.

nothing more than a child with a pencil
a mere morsel in an ocean of literature
not something to pay a bill
something I learned before I was mature
my words work wonderful swan songs that serenade simply bite by bite  slowly swallowing you body and soul. That my words make youforget that a poem is more than a string of words tied to a cannonball meant to make an impact. in fact is a cannon ball will explode somewhere behind the broken memories and hiding demons. That the "miracles" that flow from my mind is nothing but insidious illusions that are shrouded in deeper meanings. When in reality I just want to scream because I've been given all the pieces but I don't have the key.

my hair was harvested with the fall
my skull was frozen with the winter
my body was buried with the spring
I sprouted in the summer

In the midst of my depression, I have noticed omens of my past lives.
the moments left behind in old houses, My habits layed out and discarded on my bed. I've grown estranged to their music and the lyrics that parch my tongue like bread.

The same with people, Not a moment goes by and the image of her grows blurrier. Not a moment goes by and my image grows weaker. and all the while I seek no cure so I must be all the wiser

Living up to the name shouldn't be hard
That the melancholy that ails me is just fortunes card

I'm just merely a prolonged chord on deaths strings.
or maybe a bird caged who wants to spread his wings.
Truly though,
I must be a velveteen rabbit
Burnt among the playthings

How come when I am nearer to sleep
That my eyes should close, not even a peep
I only hope then, that my eyes do not open

Ripped in two pieces at one place
At another time it could've been different
Now that the embers float in the air
Now that I know whats left standing
With the trees beginning to sprout
I'll survive