**** it.
           **** myself.
Why do I miss you?
       Why do I do this to myself?
It's like I'm addicted to the pain it brings.
       To my heart, my mind.
                 When it makes my body ache.
I don't want you back.
   At least not like that.
          But it'd be nice to talk to you.
I'm beyond confused
        trying to figure out living without you
And when I shed a tear
   it's because things have become less clear
And to know you won't ever be near
         Really tears me apart, my dear.

What if? What if I die? will anyone cry? will you feel sad? or will you say I was bad? will you feel my pain? or will you assume I was insane?

I just wonder all the time

Every night, I come to the same place and wait until the sky catches up with my mood.

my mother's tongue says i write too many untitled poems

i am not bloodthirsty like it.
i wish not to **** my creations before they bloom in the mind of any who come upon them.

Your eyes are like the moon, I could look into them the whole night and never stop smiling. Your smile is like the light, blinding and beautiful and amazing to see every time, your hands are like a soft toy, once holding, I will never want to let go, the feel of your kiss is like heaven has opened to me and sent me an angel of love. Your soul is like a fire, burns brightly through any darkness, your heart is like a drum, every time I hear your heart beat, I want to dance to the beat. If this is a dream, I never want it to end cause if perfection is non existent, you are the closet I've ever seen

The sun is coming
up and I'm still wearing wings
shaped like broken hearts

Here's to me.
Here's to keeping up all night reading a good book.
To doodling your professor's face in classes.
To waking up late on weekdays.
To getting all tired after a volleyball game.
To listening to piano music when it's raining.
To getting your shoes all soaked up...when it's raining.
To crying...when it's raining.
To watching fireflies at night.
To listening to crickets...at night.
To watching the sunset while being nostalgic.
To singing out of tune in the bathroom.
To wasting some precious time while on the toilet bowl just thinking.
To eating too much when you know you shouldn't.
To painting while being in just your underwear.
To turning your headphones to the highest volume when your mom's shouting from the kitchen.
To eating midnight snacks 3 times every night.
To crying over a good movie.
To hating yourself because of wanting something you know you can't get.
To loving yourself because you know you're still you no matter how much tears you've wasted.
To spending all your money for food and books and  bookmarks and pencils and pens and paints and paintbrushes and...food.
To going out with friends everyday or night.
To not wanting to go home because you've got so much more to talk about.
To thinking how much you hate thinking about dying.
To hating Peter Pan because you know he never gets old.
To hating Wendy because she chose to leave Neverland.
To trying to get over the fear of death.
To hoping you'll never grow old and die.
To dying right now...

Another tale about good old country boys

Just another tiny village pub
And I was hot and thirsty after a long hike
One small table and one vacant chair
So I walked over and sat down beer in hand
Opposite me sat an unkempt old man
Greasy hair hanging lank, stubble on his chin
And man did he stink
Stale sweat and ***** and unmentionable things
I couldn't help myself, said don't you ever bath
He looked at me with beady eyes
Then he began to laugh
When was the last time you was sick boy
He said to me
I said just a week ago when I had the flu
He grinned at me, showed blackened teeth
Said the answers plain to see
You shower or bath every day to keep your body clean
Now me boy never a day ill in my life
And I rarely take a bath well about one every
Six months or so
So boy the answers very clear at least it is to me
Every time you take a shower
You wash away your natural eemunity