There is nothing I'd rather do
than to just stay here.
Bu my hand has been forced
Now I must disappear.

Vanishing into the ether
Gone before your heart will notice
There's no shade of my soul you haven't ravaged
But I must go, I must. I MUST.

4.20.20

Flames of deceit engulfed the vast fields of my heart.
Composed of slender dry blades of trust and love; that danced to that old song together like watching sea of hopeless romance.

The blazing fire grew hastily; greedily feeding.
Leaving no survivors.

All of my fields reduced to wisps of ash in a mere instant. The grains are no more and the harvest shall yield no food this season.

Fearing the worst, I prepare for the work ahead to replenish my crop. In good time, the new growth will sprout. If I am patient, if I tend with care, I will confidently provide an abundance of new produce.

Insurmountable quantity and resilient to the elements.

I say, sometimes the brushfire must be burned in order for new growth to take its place.
Remaining ever vigilant and keeping the inferno from ruining my fields again.

"It seems like you dodged a bullet," intuition tells me.
In an instant I am stunned at that thought.
My tongue swells; throat holding an unquenchable lump.
Inside I can feel my heart circling the drain.

This is the pill I cannot seem to swallow.
I am choking.

"She seems quite toxic," guidance implores.
That black vine growing, ensnaring my mind.
Hyperventilating, and my vision goes blurry.
Tears swell and I'm fighting them back.

This is the blind eye I am turning.
I am denying.

Pain cuts the deepest
through clarity of
the agonizing truth;
becoming an irritating splinter
unable to be pluck from tender skin.

Dodged a bullet? A bullet's only purpose is to ****, I thought to myself.

She is the bullet.
And the irony?
She is the only one
I would have taken a bullet for.

Flame of deceit engulfed and destroyed the vast fields of my heart.

Composed of slender dry blades of trust and love; that danced to that old song together like watching a sea of hopeless romance.

The blazing fire grew hastily.
Greedily feeding for its own agenda,
it leaves no trace of remorse.

All of my fields reduced to wisps of ash in a mere instant. The grains are no more and the harvest shall yield no food this season.

Fearing the worst, I prepare for the work ahead to replenish my crop. In good time, the new growth will sprout.

If I am patient, if I tend with care, I will confidently provide an abundance of new produce.
Insurmountable quantity and resilient to the enviable elements.

I say, sometimes the brushfire must be burned in order for new growth to take its place.

Remaining ever vigilant, I fend off the selfish inferno from ruining my fields again.

The devil has a silver tongue.
Oh, she has coated me in chrome.
Awake now and embrace the ache.

I met this girl; humble, beautiful, and compassionate.
Not ashamed, I'll admit that we matched up over the internet.
Our first meeting was shy, jittery as one would expect.
It ended on a sweet note, I leaned in for a good-night peck.

I'm seeing this girl, who appreciates my nerdy tendencies.
Her eyes light up sometimes, making me weak in the knees.
Scored a second date, brought her out on the town.
She let me hold her hand, knew I could make her my own.

I'm with this girl, she is the antithesis of myself.
Surprised we even click at all, but I'm not looking at anyone else.
A young woman truly inspired by history and books,
Me? I'm a gangly musician that cannot cook.

I'm dating this girl, the operative word I will now gladly say.
She wishes to be my girlfriend; asked me on that hot August day.
I want nothing more than a steady, loving, relationship.
but in the back of my mind I fear when I head for that ship...

I'm dating this girl-nay-woman, we have developed a regular trend;
three months later and driving to her place each weekend.
Here I am always checking my phone to see if there's a text,
A message from her, about how she's longing for ***.

I'm dating this woman, and there are three words I want to tell.
I should just keep my mouth shut, for this won't end well.
In our pillow talk, dazed in the middle of the night,
"I love you" she said, "it just all seems right."

I'm dating this woman, where I have shreds of doubt.
Do I tell her how I feel? Even when the end is coming about?
The three words I was afraid to say, I blurt out in agreement.
"What have I done?" I think, "You can't say that, even though you mean it."

My girlfriend and I, seem to be two peas in one pod.
We are both awkward in our ways, our interests are odd.
Birthday, funeral, weddings, Halloween, movies all in 19 weeks.
More and more each time I leave, endless tears fall down her tan cheeks.

My girlfriend and I, now proud to be her adoring boyfriend,
remind ourselves that our time is finite, so soon after it began.
My job is taking me across the sea, for six months at least.
Her mask of happiness is cracking, and my ignorance is cease.

I'm dating this girl, who cries probably more than I know.
She is anxious for me to leave, and it's really beginning to show.
I hate myself every waking moment for what I've done,
by mutilating a beautiful relationship right as it had begun.

I'm dating this girl and I don't want to hurt her anymore.
I cannot express how much I really love her, she's the one I adore.
Fantasies of dating, moving in, being a couple for years,
proposal, marriage, a pug, I have to fight off my tears.

I'm dating this girl, and the pain I've caused is heft.
Neither of us could go on, even with 6 weeks left.
I kissed her tears and sorrows goodbye, hoping for a future together.
Started my car, drove away, fearing one together might be never.

I dated this girl, and three weeks after it's gone,
I still want her back, but I can only have one.
The woman I love, or the job to start my career,
Please don't make me pick, I've waited an entire year.

I dated this girl, and no moment have I had an absent thought.
She's consumed my heart and my mind, like an illness I have caught.
I pray and hope that a new future for us might unfurl,
for when I'm gone all I'll be thinking of is this girl.

Friday the 13th.
Another teenager dead.
Typical, Jason.

My pants are throbbing,
gorgeous girls are all around.
Lots of yoga pants.

Ironic wardrobe.
He only drinks PBR.
The complete hipster.

"Press and hold to view"
I hope it's naughty..(touch screen.)
Quick, take a screen shot!

It's "Throw-Back-Thursday."
Share your pictures of days past.
No one gives a ****.

Asleep, mouth agape,
with that obnoxious snoring,
smothered by pillow.

Bike tires whirring.
Downhill, my speed uncontrolled.
Uh…bike malfunction.

There's a man in my mirror
he seems familiar.
but also a complete stranger.

Perhaps in the past
I knew him
and we were the best of friends
but I cannot recall.

I fear this man
for he has grown thin
and worn raw from prolonged exposure
to the elements of emotion.
There is no reflection of me in him.

I should avert my eyes from his
but I know he will still be there.
On the other side,
he is still waiting.

Yet I'm drawn by his gaze into mine
as if he is asking me "Well, what now, Daniel?"
What he means? That I have no clue.

His 1000-yard-stare
magnified from the
charcoal glasses
look back into mine.
Into me.
Right into me...

"It's just you and me now.
Traveling together.
Nobody sees you
like I do.
Nor you do I.
Each time you leave me
know I'm still inside.

We were apart for a while.
We've grown from one into two.
Now that you see me again,
remember that I love you."


His words are simple.
His conviction is true.

This man I fear,
is just a poor soul
wanting to be pain-free.
So, I love this man in return
for that man in my mirror,
is me.

Medicine induced hallucinations,
body quivering with ache,
and I'm hearing the sweet chime of bells
In this hour of pain my mind orchestrates.

The next drop from the IV,
helps even greater than the last,
a constant drumming in my head
a beat which was not meant for dance.

The others around me dressed in white
say I'm doing fine and that I should rest,
but when there's music pouring into the room
Sleep is what I must detest.

Can they not hear the wondrous sounds?
The vibrations that reflects my pain?
Those invisible waveforms move visibly
or have I just gone entirely insane?

There is no music, they tell me.
It must be a side-affect to the medication.
The ambiguous tune that rattles my brain,
is death knocking, it is by my orchestration.

But who is to say what I hear
is not real?
The tune in my head I wish to transcribe
but I'm weak,
and barely clinging to life.
So no one will hear this stirring melody.
This is the song I hear towards the end of my life.

In these last precious moments
laying in my seemingly sterile bed,
the tune haunts me 'till I shut my eyes.
but the tune is my comfort, I do not dread.

So take me with you, oh humble melody.
I welcome your amplitude with open ears
Let's take a listen to what you're telling me,
I dare you to move me to tears…..

The warm blanket of the strings comforts me,
the brass section: a foundation, a rock.
Oh, but hear the timpani? It taps to the beat of my near-ending biological clock.
The woodwinds, a sympathetic harmony that aides my despair.
Their aloofness like the machine by my side, filling me with air.

The main theme speaks to me directly, and I've been worn thin
but I swear the main line is "I've fought valiantly, but this battle I could not win."

I do not have to open my eyes to see,
that the director of this symphony is myself.
I've created this music on my death bed,
and it was not meant for anyone else.

When I close my eyes this final night,
take a somber breath and leave.
I'll have my tune in my head,
and nobody for me to grieve.

Goodbye to this world around me,
now the nurse come to medicate.
One last final wave of my arms.
This song I hear, mine alone, I orchestrate.

I'm sick of dating girls
in a constant internal struggle.
I just want a woman
one who knows how to cuddle.

I'm sick of dating girls
even though they entice me very well
I just want a woman
who won't put me through this hell.

I'm sick of dating girls
conceded, and emotionally immature.
I just want a woman


Ahem…Sorry.

Today I witnessed something spectacular.
What it means I'm not too sure,
It's not that clear.
The story will come in time.
I happened to meet my hero,
in a dream that's for sure.

Next I was gonna die
he was there and it made me cry.
But I was not ashamed
nor was I sad.
Glad he was there for me
almost like my dad.

My family at my side,
also Annie and my fiends Sam and Mike.
Into the room,
the four-person crew,
immediately I grew teary eyed.

Oh can it be?
Weezer is in here next to me?
But how did they know?
Who told them so?
They've come here to complete my life.

Laying sick in bed
tubes bulge from my arms
no hair covering my head
but I've never felt so alive before.

We created a song together
and now it's fading fast
I awake from the dream
and grab some paper fast.

Few notes linger in my head.
Lightly I whistle the the tune.
It's not quite close
but it will have to do.

I've awoken from the dream,
the melody is in my head
but words to me
are as heavy as lead.

What are you trying to prove?
Why are you so stubborn?
This hardened shell of yours is not normally you.

Just let me in,
I promise to help,
I know you ****** up
when you said "Welp,
I'm done here"

We were both in dance class,
all I did was stare at your ***,
while I plunked on the piano.

I was such a dweeb back then,
actually I still kind of am,
but I felt like I had no
chance with you.

But here I am today
with no women in my way
my roommates were still my wingmen.

Apparently you thought I was cute,
in your spandex you felt like a ******
and were to afraid to give me your number then.

Today is my final chance
to see if we can make this last
and let me take you out.

You look great in your summer dress
I'm in my Sunday best just so I
can find what you're all about.

Take a long drive to see the theater production
called "Your Life" in front of me.

I take it in letting my imagination float
and get wrapped in the reality of you and me.

The plot will thicken and the suspense grows
the desire will bring the ******, then resolution.

But by the time it leads to the final scene, I'm upset,
as there is no happy ending, just confusion.

So now I leave the stage with disapproval and hurt
thinking how I just wasted my time.

Unwilling to accept the fate of this show
I wish to re-write it with my own rhyme.

Spending hours upon hours pondering new ideas
of how to end this show perfectly

Rejecting every possible outcome I write
trying to elude the feeling of misery.

However, I can't give up or stop trying
this play must not go sulky.

I must keep on making endings
to complete the thespian in me.