Everything I say gets drowned out by cheap perfume and cigarettes.
I heard there once was a time when the only things labeled, were jars.
Now everything is defined by another.
An endless circle of cans' and can'ts'
It's so tiring.
Everything I aim for is shooting me down like a bird.
I heard we all have pre-made holes, never able to be made full.
Now everything is in our minds.
On our minds.
An endless rant of holy waters or red wines.
It's so tiring.
Everything I see, I've seen so much.
Seeing day by day.
I heard the same sounds, and they don't matter anymore.
Now everything is so repetitive
An endless dispute between caring and slumber.
It's so tiring
Everything has become a bore
Almost full off boredom.
I heard such things that have driven the emotions out of me.
Now I'm pulling out the string in the seams.
An endless unraveling of sanity.
It's so...tiring.

I'm not dreaming, I see it clearly.  
It's the haunting of a beautiful ghost.  
Without wings, but a clear, bright, white  
Sadly her story is misdiagnosed.    
No one knows how she died, or when, where, and why.  
  We only know what we imagined
But this never makes the good, girl, ghost cry.  
  She lives for us to love and care,  
no matter how sharp the thorns get.  
She wants us to know our weaknesses,  
she hopes we never forget.  
She's a legend no one knows,  
but we feel her pain,  
We, together, know her heart  
She can't live again.  
A beauty to bright the darkest path,  
  A life with ups and downs.
A tragedy more cruel than Romeo and Juliet.
   When the balance of life drowns.
The death of her was the death of me.
The pain,
    I felt it too,
A true dream that's heard when an angel sings.
only the biggest heart can see
  The most beautiful thing in the world,
        The Angel Without Wings.

Anything for a dollar.
Anything for a dime.
If you need to live,
nothings a waste of time.
What a shame,
the bible says so,
and so it is true,
money as a life sentence;
work is required,
or you're a body with no value.

If I live am I materialistic because life is material?
  If I die am I stupid because I gave up before I got started?
   If I haunt in-between life and death am I still forgotten?
  If I cry will you mend my body back together so I can give the answer to everyone else?
  If everyone else was tone-dead would you sing to me?
If everyone else had two left feet would you dance for me?
If everyone else was blind would you call me beautiful?
If everyone else was lost would we be lost together?
If everyone else was dreaming would I be in your dream?
Well, I say yes to everything, because I'm only half-hearted without you.

On a day of bright and blue, stood a girl not more than two.
The girl was poor, and you could tell that she was living a life so unwell.
Those who saw her just would stare.
Though, I believe they were all scared.
Her hair, so tangled, it'd eat a monkey whole,
yet she was really kind at soul
She wanted toys and friends to share, she always wished to have nice hair.
If only they knew her mournful pain.
They all just assumed she was insane.
She blocked my light and so I knew, if anything she was quite the view.
When our eyes met she quickly blushed,
her face like cherries, completely flushed.
She begged for money and we chatted everyday,
though I never noticed as she wasted away.
It didn't happen right on stage, it happened later in mid-age.
Though if she lives on then we would be
a very happy family.
Her laugh would resound my very soul.
Her tears, her smile, really took a toll.
When I follow her she'd be so proud,
though I choose to wait until I'm allowed
to hold her,
hug her,
take her in.
Warm her,
and touch her tender skin.
All it takes is patience and proof she should live on,
after all, from the time we met I could tell she was so strong.
No longer would she be the stray outcast,
her ***** hands and hair in the past,
I would change everything,
but only *if it last

Something different burrows in my skin,
tells me I am kin, but I am not- but I am.
Something different swirls atop my head and feels so close as I am led, but so far- but I am.
Something different tugs and tells from different mouths who to be and what to do but I do what I do and- I am.
Something different shoots fire across the sky and gas across the streets as they fight or they flee and I see that- I am.
Something different is the 'gangs' against gangs with silver tongues and lined gold pockets, shedding dignity and love to live and- I am.
Something different is learning what I don't know and understanding what I didn't experience because I may not look it, I may not always feel it- but I know it.
I am.

I am milk in a coffee, but the milk isn't me.
My experience isn't pure coffee bean or soy vegan extra foam.
I am a latté.
Stirred with flavor and flow so I know as I grow I am what I am and-
I am me.

Something different is in my bones and brains and story.
Not black, not white. Not day or night.
I am the between.
I am the grey.
I am something different-
and that's okay.

Can you help me friend?
I have a problem.
I'd love to tell you,
but that'd solve them.
See my heart goes boom,
and falls to the pits real quick.
But I found my eyes staring.
Did you know your eyelashes are thick?
Well anyway..
I fell in to a crater then,
lost in peachy...peach skin.
I know this is a little vague,
still I hope you fix my day.
I've been at lose of what to say,
so I wrote this poem hesitantly.
I'm sorry if this means goodbye,
If you can still be my friend, please try.
I hope you make my day right now,
I won't tell you the problem,
because if anyone can still solve it,
you know how.

It tears the border,
like an army of sunken ships and color in the blank seas
It tears the heart,
like a bullet rushing to the finish line but always paused in motion.
It tears the life,
for g-d knows what life truly is.
It tears the thoughts,
for cracked vases do shatter.
Beneath the cold and rough hands,
of broken and battered.
It is skilled.
It tears everything.
Shatters them completely,
until dust is left in each place.
Would 'obliterate' be a good choice of word?
Perhaps 'traumatize',
since that is what happens when 'it' is all over.
And what brings this?
Life.
Life must come,
only to take.
One more is one less.
Leaving the effortless life-taking to be the simplest choice.
It is skilled.
It has you believing ropes and knives are friends.
Knives numb the pain.
So do pain-killers.
As does the stinging of a ringing in your head,
from what you thought would be a simple escape to Neverland.
Ropes bring emotional and physical pain.
Then the walls have holes,
and the scars burn in the rain.
They say,
"Don't do it!
There's a better way!"
Yet they never seem to say,
"It's a illusion that takes you farther from where you wanted to be,
and it gets complicated."
It is skilled.
It tears the little hairs from your head.
It tears the children sleeping in bed.
It tears the words you can't unsay.
It tears the people,
who never seem to stay.
It tears a hole in your gut.
It tears a penny in an empty cup.
It tears until you don't look up.
It tears like a river, moving quick.
It tears and stabs, as it is slick.
It is skilled.
It should be feared.
Living on the brink of "where am I?"
And "whose body am I in?"
There you wonder if everything you've done is a sin.
Alas you don't expect to be forgiven.
In your mind,
you've already sinned,
so you figure you may as well give in.

Pale as snow,
and eyes so blue,
and not quite yet mine.
Not a lover,
but a dancer.
With his own kind of mind.

Complicated personality,
but yet such simple taste.
Drawing me in,
so I'm chasing my heart,
and leaving no mark of space.

Swift witted,
slow texter.
Only chatty eye-to-eye.
Fights on whether I understand him.
He's that 'something' kind of guy.

When did the doves begin to fade,
how did the meaning of love get so strayed,
from love at first site, to love of the french,
when did the tongue save the young *****.
How did love become forbbiden and fun,
When was the talking and laughing soon done.
If true love were a rose, it would slowly turn blue.
How did children of eight find so many soul mates.
While we love romance movies, this is not love.
Love is submitting for the better of who you love.
Love is sour, Love is sweet.
Love is cruel, Love is kind.
Love is not something everyone will find.
Love is home without home.
Love is dream before dream.
Love is not just a choice or a blank feeling.
I hope there's a day when life again sees that love has a more clear and joyful meaning.

I saw light turn to darkness in the blink of an eye,
and taking a decade, I saw darkness turn to light.
I asked people, thinking they'd question themselves, "Why"
but they all respond, "That's just life until you die."*

The times have changed, and so have we,
when is the last progressive speech that changed the way we all see?
The ways are different, our hearts are done,
so many obstacles suddenly running just isn't fun.
So I'll take my time,
and stare at reality,
a ghostly friend
in an ocean of solitude,
thought provoking problems,
not breathless, but I cannot breathe words to what I see.
Wreck the facade we all need,
break down the smiles but don't make them bleed.
Take the pain off and leave it there,
and if their alone
even if it's hard work
be there.
Nothing happens in a day,
or another,
or a month,
but if you start a chain it will one day come back.
Keep the right turn,
and don't turn your back.
A message for the mass,
because I keep my word.
I don't turn my back on people,
because I know what it like to be unheard.

I bit into your personality,
but you were the bitter kind.
A Sun by day,
A close Moon by night.
Watching over my shoulder,
like a cat on prowl for a fight.
I did not mind the Stars intrusion into our simple affairs,
but when you make a movie with me,
I do not need their stares.
I have not the time-
nor the most sympathetic of cares.
Truth be told your white not gold.
You reflect your inner roach.
I haven't got a dime of love,
for a lover who needs a loving-coach.
So "****" be the word of the day,
as Count Dracula may say,
Your major brain's deep illness must soon cease,
and then I hope we find sweet peace

I don't want to die.
I won't die.
I don't want to disappear.
I've already been there.
Just having a strong conflict inside,
because I don't want to exist here.