Baby's breath
is my favorite
flower
because they are subtle
and remind me of
your
serene sense of humor.

The face of a sorrowful man
can't compare to the
tear bottles of whiskey
spent on stale bread.

I don't believe that such a deed is allowed in human fate.
A made up rhyme cannot fathom the truth as I can you.
No matter the wondrous colors that shine through on a daily basis,
no matter the birds singing in the
autumn leaves,
there is no sun
there is no hope
The birds are singing, but they are
corpses in spring mulch.

Tomorrow is another day,
Yet today is still so long
Perhaps I'll sacrifice and pray
Or write another song
But songs and poems make no difference
To whether the earth stay blue or green
The challenge is to feel it
In your heart and soul and dream
The neverending wonder
Is if we can make a change
As a whole as a single
My thoughts in disarray
The world is too far gone
To be rescued from its cell
Although some may be drawn to help the cause
It already fell
Some of us want peace
Some of us want love
Constantly fighting against the hate
And begging to above
Those who worry about their death
And what will happen to them then
When they take their last breath
What good have they been?
Worry now my young friends
There is a place that needs
Our attention should go to straightening the bend
And watering the roaring sea
There will soon be no afterlife
If we continue here
What has been done for ages since
We may soon disappear
What matters most is our life
And how we live it up
And now our souls are filled with strife
We need to fill our cups
A thing we look to
that may not even exsist
When a beautiful creation here we brew
In need of persist
I dream of peace
I dream of love and harmony
The day Our earth will be built back again
United piece by piece
Tomorrow is another day
And listen closely my child
Though we may have to pay
It will be worth it in the while
The world will soon be
Back to how it once was
Peaceful and free
And once again it will be ours
Just for you and me

i haven't been able to get you off my mind.
not that that's different than any other day,
but i miss you
and i hope you're ok.
sometimes i can feel your pain run through me slightly.
like a wave, sparked by your tears.
and i picture you crying, alone in the world, scared, longing for something for someone,
and that's when i feel it.
i would give anything to make it stop.
to take it away and inflect it on myself.
but then, if we are so connected, and if you do love me as i love you, then you wouldn't be able to escape the pain either.
when you love someone you feel their pain they are going through something you can't save them from
and that kills you inside.
i know there's not much i can do.
and there sure isn't anything i can say.
but, i try to do what you did with me:
hug me and tell me it's all going to be ok.
i didn't believe you. i still don't.
but, your arms around my back felt nice.

The color of wilted daisies is a dark shade of regrets
Take me back to my wild years
when I always had big hair and seemingly small hands
each finger has a heartbeat you know
I swear every extremity has a pulse
Pieces put together
that's what it is
a puzzle gone wrong

Maybe one day I'll make finger sandwiches
for classy luncheons
in a pagoda in my backyard.
We all will be jolly
and have balloon laughs
as we sip our aged merlot.
  And my young children will waltz in
  with their curtsies and bows and then
  go off again to be with their nanny.
And I will be occupied
with the things in my pocket
so I won't know what the dark is anymore.

                                                       ­                I'd rather live in the dark though.
                                                         ­                   In a raunchy studio apartment
                                                       ­                          with a semi-attractive but
                                                             ­                  the most beautiful woman
                                                           ­                                who is educated
                                                        ­                   and still knows how to color.
                                                           My children will understand what it means
                                                           ­              to be alive and I'll let them decide
                                                          ­                               if they appreciate it or not.
                                                                ­   We will feed the ducks every Sunday.
                                                                ­    I want to be among spirits not bodies.

Splurging on ****** tales is a specialty of mine.
I heard that we are all our own Gods and we all are our own Heroes.
This is a privilege we sometimes overlook,
but I still dream of bigger words.
I know it well, but I am more of a stranger than I was yesterday.
I have made an agreement with my head to never get lost again,
because I think many of us are detached.
And in a world where we are all connected at the hip-
this discomforts me.
I have nothing to lose except everything.
My soul is old and has much to teach me
and I think that is the meaning of life.

If I could I would tell you all my secrets
about how I long to kiss the stars
Space is almost as infinite as love
eternity is a brave thing to breathe
There is no such thing as secrets
unless you can keep them from yourself
and oh how I long to kiss you

Take me on your daisy train
Spin me fast and hard so I don't
remember who I am or why I
keep singing
Simon and Garfunkel
over and over
again,
let me remind you I am familiar
with the way moss clings
to weeping willows
I am familiar with the dusk of dawn
and yet I am still drawn to you

And when the end draws near
I am lost
We never prepare for this sort of thing
because we don't have the time
for time
when it comes to quickly.

Life is brief.
Souls are forever.
They don't get along well.

I see the moments I love flash before me in vintage photographs
Polaroids of past pains past pleasures
And I long to get a grip of myself
But the teared memories won't stop
and the time is slipping through
again

I want to tell you all my secrets
so that you know that I am a damaged person
and that I understand how cruel swords can be on pale skin.
So that you know that I can feel the pain you have felt,
and that I am a survivor like you.
I want you to know just how much I've been through and I want you to feel sorry.
I realize this sounds bad,
but
I'm lonely
and I think we can be ****** up souls together

and learn how to make it all right

And the worst part is
you don't even care
I guess I should have
known that from the
start. But one likes
to believe they are
loved in such a sad
and lonely world.
Call me a dreamer,
but I always hoped
that I would be saved.
I always prayed that
one day you may sing
me to sleep instead of
scream in my ear.
I guess feelings can
be interpreted like
musical notes. And you
are tone deaf.

fear strikes the heavens sturdy gait at the first mention of silence.
we live in a town of crook-eyed opposites,
a crinkle-cut reminder of which song belongs to who.
in the winding trails of the moon i see the face of a woman
destined to be clear
of all fate had to offer.
but, i wish i knew none the less.

I'm not really sure what to say to you to let you know that there is more
You are a hard person to convince
stuck in a mind turbulence that throws you overboard and practically drowns you in thought
Don't worry, I am too.
However, you are the one thing that breaks the tide, and I take a liking to that.

I am stuck in this whirlpool of euphenisms.
Everything is more than it's allotted value.
Imbalanced by coincidences and lost chances.
I can't chew my food anymore because I have no gums.
Skin is excess.
So are bones.
There is an art to being nonexistent.
Dissatisfaction is suffering
and to free myself
is to not desire no longer
to the point where there is no
want for life's ticking.

maybe one day
25 years from now
when my mind isn't so dull
and my trees aren't so bare
and my throat isn't so numb
I'll conjure up enough words
free from disfluency and stutter
that capture moments
like the ******* model 20.
Efflorescence or
Chatoyance or
Gossamer
will coin it all,
And I'll write them on parched paper
with solid gold ink and
seal it
so the words never escape me again.
But until then, let's just go with love.

I hate the way they hold the steering wheel.
As if it was the most casual gesture in the world.
As if they could do it with their eyes closed.
As if they were the ones driving the cab.
I'm sick of being passenger
and being naked under these safety belt restraints.
I'm ******* and no one seems to care
because we could never know the rules of the road like they do.

I can still feel each place you've ever touched me
because you left bittersweet bruises that can't be erased.

I know white-out is your best friend
and you tend to buy too many pens,
but that's ok for someone who understands
the danger of lead poisoning.

An involved grace of thought
cannot blend the right thoughts
of kissbones at the right -
Time is so very crucial to
the womb of your basket.
And I keep telling you
"I'll bring you bread.
  I'll bring you loaves and loaves."
And you smile in caught headlights.
But you forgot to rewind the VHS
You forgot to, and you returned the rental anyway.

If I were a tree
I would never let my leaves blow in the wind
Out of fear that I will never grow any again

Greet the sun-kissed smile
and amicably recognize that her eyes change color
in the shadows of night and day.

Fool me once;
I know in days time
we will entwist as yearning cannot's always do.

Your gums are uneven,
but I think this is what makes you
the portrait of perfection.

If I could paint,
I would paint you
Like an angelic sun with a celestial birth of freedom.

You speak to me at night when the fan's on too high
and I'm too low and sunken to resist
the chill in my bones.

Get your act together
What are going to do about the science test today?
You’re gonna fail.
Stop thinking that.
Discipline.
I need discipline.
You need help.
Shut up.
Yeah, like that’s even possible.
Your purse has makeup all over it.
So?
It’s ruined.
There’s no Billy Joel song that makes sense now.
This isn’t normal.
Maybe it is.
You’re not.
It’s the little sugar tablets.
They’re making you crazy.
But, if it’s them am I crazy still?
Yes.
Oh.
That *****.
Your life *****.
Hurry up and type.
Shut up.
No.
Please.
Please stop.
I don’t know why this is…
Just shut up.
Help.

And when I play Candyland I still feel you next to me
singing "Danny's Song" faintly
under your breath.
And in that moment I remember when we went to
San Francisco and you kept
all your money with your passport in a pouch
inside your bra And you thought you were
genius, even though
we lived there three years and
never go out of state.

the girl that lives inside my eyelids
is tapping on my brain
pacing around my thoughts
spilling hot tea over and over
again

i am on a ship
sailing far away
to a place completely different of where we are today
where nothing is forbidden or taken advantage
where you and i are we
and there's nothing that stops the flying arrow or entangled souls
evil and hate wont matter anymore because we are free
adventure and life is the only thing left beyond our love
and there shall always be the wonder if well make it to the next morning
thriving off the little of which we have
but its all we need
though they say the climb is the best part of the win for tis where you hold the dearest memories
i still want to get there now
so i can see your face and kiss your soft pale lips
and you can stroke my hair and whisper sweet words in my ear
holding me forever and never letting me fall again
promising to always be there to catch me
we can dance in the sun like silly gypsy children
not caring of who sees
and we can lace our fingers together
we can watch the stars light up the night sky
so i can see your face and kiss your soft pale lips
and you can stroke my hair and whisper sweet words in my ear
holding me forever and never letting me fall again
promising to always be there to catch me
we can dance in the sun like silly gypsy children
not caring of who sees
and we can lace our fingers together
we can watch the stars light up the night sky
the moon shine and gleam over our eyes
and the night shall project shadows of our souls holding each other until daybreak
so we can create the dearest memories
this ship is bland and white and scary
nothing like the achievement it was made out to be
at times i am mad
crazy for i am all alone
no one can hear me except you
why dont you answer my cries?
perhaps you are busy crying as well
but, most of the time i am thinking
of what may be
of what could happen if i am not careful
of what will happen to this dream
of us
i am on a ship
sailing far away
to a place completely different of where we are today
where nothing is forbidden or taken advantage
where you and i are we
come with me my darling babe
and we shall sail together
and bask in the morning light
and climb the breaking mountains
and pick the withered flowers
and sing old songs of broken records
and fall overboard
come with me my darling
and we shall purchase these tickets to nowhere together

I remember taking the twenty out of the drawer so effortlessly.
It didn't bother me
that it was the money
my grandmother gave me
to put in the bank
for college.

If I could, I would describe to you
the hopes I have for life
Not just my own life,
that stretches and shortens like a
worn out rubber band,
but also yours,
where I put every ounce of my positive energy
my hope, my light, is you.
But, neither of our lives are worthy
of any rhymes or words in a poem
I'm not writing about me and I'm not writing about you,
I'm writing about us,
because together we are a song to sing.

I hate how I can remember every little detail. That makes me obsessive…doesn’t it? That’s one thing I don’t understand about our society; we’re always trying to be normal. We want…confidence for example. We want confidence and if we don’t have any we automatically have selfhate problems, but if we have it we become obsessed. Does anyone here really know the true definition of obsessed? Because I would really like to know, really. Alright, then answer me this, why is it always negatively understood? Is it all that bad that I know the exact moment when she is going to fix the undone bow on her left shoe because I can see how it has been eating her up inside for the last five minutes? But, she would never in a million years stop her speech to us to fix the undone bow on her left shoe. Is it all that bad that I know that she has been wearing those shoes for the past thirteen days and the bow came undone on the third? I know that she has a freckle right on her right jawline even though it’s small and not that noticeable at all. But, I noticed it. That makes me a freak, doesn’t it? And in addition to that, I am completely aware of her breath and the amount of time it takes for her to breathe in from her great, pretty nose and breathe out once again. I am completely aware of the way she always picks at her medium-length oval squared nails when she talks. I am aware that she wears two rings on her right hand, one on her *******, one on her ring. I know that she swears quite frequent actually, but catches herself every now and then replacing the cuss with a letter. You know something, I may be obsessed. I may be a freak and I may be crazy. But, no one else in this world has the privilege of knowing this woman or appreciating her as I do. Because no one ever took the time to notice the undone bow on her left shoe.

Most of the time I feel I was not meant to be human.
Human's are definite; there's a word for them.
I don't think there's a word for me.
I don't think I'm describable or said.
Although, age is just a number,
And no one has written me yet.

And by this flickering candle.
I imagine you.
Your soft lips resting against the black satin sheets.
An angel.
I see you.
Even in the darkest of the dark bitter corners of my soul
You emerge.
It takes every fiber in my being to stop myself
to stop the longing for me to draw you closer to my heart
But, you are so peaceful.
And how could I disturb such a gentle rest?
So,
For now I guess I'll just have to ignite these old candles
that continue to flicker more and more as the days go on
But, I will light them
Every day
Until, instead, I have you.

I took this with me on my journey to the top of the world.
I thought I needed something
sweet to remind me of our summers
when you still had your long hair and still liked to
climb trees.

I remember how afraid I was
that I'd fall or trip
on hidden roots
only meant to throw off
the nocturnal rodents.

But, you always thought my thinking was silly.

We picked up rocks that were particularly
dull and *****. Ordinary miracles
hold a special meaning in carved hearts.

I craved roasted turkey and cranberry sauce.
The kind my grandmother used to make on Saturday evenings.
I wanted to go home.
But I realized, the path I was on only lead to you.

Why they ask. why.
out of all things. why.
does it really help you.
do you realize what you're doing.
who you're hurting.
what you're holding.
why.
why.
why.
do you think if i knew.
if i knew the answer to
why.
i would be doing what im doing.
i would hurt like im hurting.
i would hold what im holding.
this isnt a choice.
why
cant
people
understand
that
why
why
why

come close to me and feel my breath
against the ice of your heart
i will melt you
i will make you feel again

I have decided to create a mixtape for you
I have seen this many times in hopeless romances,
and I do feel that it truly is the action that will best show you my love
The cassette is in my car on repeat
but none of the songs fit right

The crisp nature of her breath
reminds me very much
of closet kisses
on cold winter days.
There's laundry to be done
but
I'd rather drink expired milk.

sometimes my eyes turn green in the sunlight
unfortunately
i get that gene from him
fortunately
if there is no mirror, we don't exist

I love how your smile lights up the whole room
and how your voice gets chipper in excitement
I love the way your walk jumps when your in a good mood
and I love that look of frustration when you aren't
I love how your eyes get big and your lips purse when you joke
I love your jokes
I love how they always are funny even when you're not trying to be
I love your high pitched sneeze and how I always have this longing to hug you after
I love how you blink rapidly and stand tall...even though you're about 5' 3"
I love how your hugs make me feel at home even when I am so very lost
I love how you always seem so strong and so put together even when you act silly, but sometimes when I look over at you just sitting there I can see how innocent you are and how much you may have hurt
and I have a longing to walk over to you and hold your hand
I have that longing quite often actually

Since when did lighting our lungs on fire and vomiting up our youth become fun.
When did cigarettes and *** become a carnal desire
and **** and ******* a symbol of pure lust.
How is grinding on some sweaty unshaved guy *****.
When did fake ids become the one thing we have on our Christmas list
memorizing the identity of another so we can lose ourselves in stale beer and cheap *****.
When did ***** songs about ******* become the theme song of passionate love.

When did losing yourself become the game of fun.

I have been there
I have been lost
but unlike the rest of adolescent adults,
I do not desire it.

Everyone wants to grow up too fast.
act too old for their own souls.
be provocative and disgusting to show that you know what it all means
to show that you can do it too.
Good for them.