When the stars dont shine

I'll know you're dead

When the grass in the prairies are yellow

I'll know you're dead

When the city lights dont catch my attention anymore

I'll know you're dead

When I dont see anymore blessings

I'll know you're dead

When the sun is the brightest thing I see in sight

I'll know you're dead because you're my light to my dark and cloudy days

When a guitars sound makes me sad everytime I hear it

I'll know you're dead

When I dont have a reason to wake up to

I'll know you're dead

When the night comes and there's no one to say "Goodnight I love you" to

I'll know you're dead

When I write you these poems
And read them to you

Dont be afraid

Because I love you and mean everything in them

You're alive, and God keeps blessing me everyday you're alive

Don't be afraid of anything, because I love you

You're alive

The night isn't so dark after all, and the dark isn't so scary after all

The sun isn't so bright after all

You're alive

if you think too much you wont get **** done.

“Dear Lord, I know I am the angel you most regret.
Forgive me for my misunderstood intentions.
Forgive me for the drugs I take in just to be right beneath your feet.
Forgive me for the sins I commit without regretting them.
Forgive me if I’m not a strong enough soldier to defend your word when unbelievers bash on your greatness.
Forgive me.”


**stands up and wipes the dirt off his prickly knees

when i became a menace to myself,
i found myself voluntarily doing the impossible
and the only possible action i could do is breathe and hum along to songs,
rhythmic patterns that build me and straighten my knees up
my eyes were looking down at the fractures on the earth, looking at my fingers stick out the dry yellow dead grass
my degradation was thought to be six feet below
i’m 5’6 and my fingers sticking out were reaching towards a tower of magic and happy prisons
dreams of sceneries, full of laughter and reassurance
full of trust and rich environments
and not even a trickle above a gram of *******, can make you seem this close to Gods feet
and you’ll share playlists to the ones who want to fly without wings off of buildings
and re-up for their sake
you’ll see the variant in the sky you cried to for years
and arrogate your state of emotion
you’ll be gone

I read once that sleep helps the brain regulate the metabolism. I never paid much attention to informational possible life changing books; I guess that’s why I have the lungs of an 80 year old nicotine addict. It’s 1/16/14, 6:56 pm. My mother used to tell me that whatever bad habits I did, would affect my future greatly, I guess that’s why I can’t last two laps on the track without breathing heavily. I guess that’s why I’m afraid to approach people face to face because I’m scared my tobacco scented breathe will push them away. When I was growing up I wasn’t always aware of problem solving methods, so I wouldn’t over think and wouldn’t care about it, now I do, things were better back then. I should stop smoking cigarettes, it’s affecting my running.

It is now 5/18/14, I still run like I’m a 5 year old uncontrollable child

I called your number about a few minutes ago, and I left you a voicemail you'll never hear
Spoken words that'll never reach your ears
Listening to them wont change a thing so I said things I'll feel about you for awhile even though you won't care
My voice sounded weak, I was sitting on the ledge of trying to forget
Even though I'll never let myself go from that ledge, I'd sure want to
But these days, I can't even if I tried
Even if I suffered from a condition of forgetting things, I wouldn't be able to

Unsureness really gets to me I admit

Its 4:00 pm, and I have nothing much to say today. sorry.

Don't call me a poet, because I'm nothing but an untitled crippled feeling
don't call me a poet, because I'm nothing but a person who smokes cigarettes to pass time
Don't call me a poet, because I'm nothing but a person who has notebooks full of past suicidal entries
Don't call me a poet, because I'm nothing but a person who wonders if faith should really be put on the shoulders of a sense I can't see
Don't call me a poet, because I'm nothing but a aqueduct of black and white emotions
Don't call me a poet, because I hate writing and remembering things that have affected me, but I don't know how else to vent so catch me spilling blood on paper as a form of expression
Don't call me a poet, because I'm nothing but a person who hasn't made a dollar of a passion he doesn't even think he's good at

I can't face the truth even if I had time for it, honestly

Oh me, faceless trains remind me how foolish I can be, I crave useless years to come for some reason, I question why things happen for a reason sometimes, but I've rose from what I'm feeling from under the umbrella; scared..
I've rose, and everything I'm about to remember these days, can go **** itself.