As each drop falls,
A thousand eyes cry.

As howling winds blow,
A thousand hearts are frozen over.

As piercing bolts strike,
I know that hate has taken all my love.

Maybe one day this storm will blow over,
Maybe one day I'll see light again.
But can a storm end,
When it is all you know?
Can clouds part,
If you don't want to see through?

It takes more than one day,
To change a heart.
The warmth of the sun needs time,
time to thaw the depths of my soul.
It takes longer than I have,
to rewrite my never ending story.

As each drop falls,
My anger is washed away.

As howling winds blow,
It rips away the mask I hide behind.

As piercing bolts strike,
I feel an energy within.


Is it enough to change me?

Maybe.

Is it enough to save me?

No.

But it is enough to keep me going,
Long enough to try again.

Interviewer: Douglas Simpkins, who are you? We don't understand you..the world seems to mis read you..can you tell us in a few words, maybe? Who is Douglas Simpkins?

(Heart beats)
(The sound of writing)

Dear Everyone,

Time has passed. I maybe overthinking this but I can't find my brains top latch
(So my thoughts are out)
You ask "what's that about?"

Let me explain..

I said things, broke things
Never thought I'd become inslaved..
To the monster who's beating inside me
To the ignorance placed in my grave
I done messed up, never confessed up, talk to god now, so maybe I'm blessed up?
But we cool and talk about when I was in school
How I created so many lies, blamed it on a high..
Stabbed so many backs that nobody walked with a spine.
Walk a mile in my shoes? nobody wanted my 9s
Figured Id grow outta my fears and self overtime..
Something happened,
And I gradually found death
I spoke to him as he would glare at me with darkness spewing from his breath
Manipulation at its best
As he grabbed a hold of my chest
Told me "only the good die young"
Put his hand on my pecks and pushed me back to this mess.

(Then what?)

I tried to follow purity,
The constant fight with this monster inside of me!
He wants anger! I just want maturity.
A sense of security.
Maybe that's why I'm so locked down
She thinks I'm being stubborn
But she don't know, I'm just starting to open up and share all about my past now.
****..and I gotta be honest,
I want you to be the one that I endure the longest,
Who accepts me at me at my weakest, supports me at my strongest.

(Let her now kid)

Hiding the truth in these subliminal notes,
Ask myself
If you like her why don't you go after what you desire the most?
Probably because I was a felon in loves convictions
I believe she deserves to enjoy life without pain and loves restrictions.

(Again man!?)

Yeah, I also needed time to break down. Weak knees, lord please, help me feel the force of the ground. The words of the angels and only some can hear the sound.
Ask yourself if you needed help, who the F!ck would be around?
I was stranded in the water and you just watched in an attempt to let me drown!
I survived!
Look at me rise! from all your f@cking let downs!

(Take it easy man)

But I tend to constantly escape, to a world, a beautiful place
Where I can't be judged, I can finally be alone and mediate in my vital space
A mind that represents the ocean, a heart that's the beating sun, a soul that is the sand, and a life that is all I want to become.

(That's beautiful)

Because we all have a story
Not one makes less sense.
I took a gun to misery, blasted the ****t outta it
Walked away and left that ***** for dead.
This is me. I can't make this up for your amusement
My words are the bullets, excuse me as I reload my weaPEN.

(Doug, calm down!)

Chill man, I told you I'm grown now and have full control.
I just speak with alotta passion and that don't go away even as you get old.
This my story and they wouldn't believe me if it wasn't properly told
I was a beast, a loose bullett that could **** a person with one shot..stare em down and spit a venom so cold.
But I apologize for it all and taking ya down this road...

(Hands shaking)

I prospered from myself and learned to hold my own.
Stick with me now and please embrace my change. Help me write my story and turn a new page.
Goals can be made, I never heard there ever had to be a certain age.
Giving you my all now and hope ya will accept my best
But still look back once in a while...
So that I'll never forget.

(Oh my god)

Also, had to go back to the lab, reconnect and draw up some new plans
And by the way, you can't know who Doug is...when it's really Bland.
Amen.

(Stopped writing)

Interviewer: I have no words. Thank you.

Keep it safe
in familiar territory.
Nothing non sequitur.
Nothing out of place.
Don't go sailing off into outer space.
Stick to topics that relate.
(Ignore how everything is connected to everything else -
not everyone thinks that way.)

Nothing out of left field.
You've got to save some face.
There's a reputation (somewhere, somehow) to maintain.
Be polite, pleasant, and plain.
Leave the madness in your brain.
Hide your heart;
keep it tucked away,
and above all else,
don't go digging up those corpses from their grave.

"Wonderful weather we're having.
Isn't it a lovely day?"

There's so much more to life.
That can't be all there is to say . . .

She is a tress of hair out of place,
combed in slow sweeps from my forehead.
I thought her an enigma to perchance unravel
by the press of well-paired lips
or by a mind besotted with moon glow
and Grenache wine;
one wicked with wisdom.

Saccharine words stirred into woody coffee,
I, Whitman, imagine her
the chill of Robert Frost
clung like sugar grains to my Leaves of Grass.

Almandine eyes of the nine Mousai
revved up by unbridled inventiveness…
I twinge too much to hold it inside,
she triumphs beyond the rim of her vessel,
so our ache and exultation
steal past the musing sentinel of apprehension;
and leap from once dormant imagination
into spirit shadows and splendid motifs.

She is a stranger to all,
but to those whom she whispers as lover.
We, two strangers of sun and moon,
curl nubile into night
to take our nuptials at dawn.

One hundred million miles and
one earth between us;
now bound as one, we pull the tides
into an unexpected tempest in my heart;
a tender act of indiscretion
undoing a tame, near tepid, bearing.

Thus muse and artist
feast upon the provender of providence
and all delectable in between them.

I can feel it, my heart turning blue.
Inspiration comes and the words flow.
Not without tears, not without pain.
I see it taking shape, on the blank paper, in front of me.
What I feel exactly, turning into words.
It is beautiful, it is horrible,
These words mirror my heart.
I have to get it, before it escapes.
I must ****** it from the æther
Before it's gone forever
And does the poem come out,
I bear it, a painful birth for both it and me
And so it comes out
Through my eyes with tears.