you are in my house
and it will eat you
because you would be dead

i am busy
too busy
for this nonsense

tempting
but i must decline

My friend, put down your weapon.
It is out of your control, she isn't here anymore.
She moved on after you left, don't you see?
There is no need to wage war on yourself.

Please put down the gun.
Do not blame her for moving on, you left.
It is not the fault of the one she left with-
in fact, this has nothing to do with her.

No, this has to do with you, and you alone.
Do not write wish lists wishing suffering to anyone,
it does no one any good whatsoever.

Take care of yourself, put down the knife.
You are a victim of circumstance,
do not become the criminal.

You are always in my head
some kind of permanent residency
I hope it's comfy.

I guess you must like it there
because you sleep there
and you seem quite content.

You seem to have cleared out everything else that was in there
to make more room for yourself
because you are the only one up there.

You have a way of running me
through my head
because everything I do I have you in mind.


I think I should really stop
writing all these ******* poems
about you.

Why are you running?
Here, you say. You need to leave here.

What are you running from?
Things, things that you need to put behind you.

What do you mean?*
Your past, you say. You need it to go away.

I am your past.
Am I your past?
Don't run from me.
Run with me.

I haven't written you a poem in a while

I'm on a track
and I can't stop,
not even once.
Help me, if you can.
But you can't.
I'm stuck;
this is so difficult.
I can't even breathe,
or focus on
anything
or anyone.
This is getting painful.
To be
or not to be?
My mind is on a track,
and it will not slow down.
Help me right now please.
It is over.
I can breathe again.

Today, I wrote a poem, and it rhymed.
And for a few minutes, I felt like I'd be okay.

Have you ever stopped
to realize,
she really doesn't care about you?
Never once.
She doesn't treat you like you matter,
any more than the next guy.
You're just someone,
maybe even no one.

Have you ever stopped
to weep,
to lay everything down,
in a vast pool of tears?
The salty sin whose presence makes proud men cower in shame.
They bring us together, as one.
All of us, under the same fall of rain.

Have you ever stopped
to think,
who would care?
If you were gone, who would take the time to see?
The ways to go, they haunt you.
And none take their time to recognize,
though you think of death,
you may already be dead.

Have you ever stopped
to smell,
to breathe in the dawn of a new day,
and smell the beauty of the flowers?
Young child,
you aren't alone.
Together, we can smell.
We will smell the flowers and live.
Together.

he isnt even worth a poem

I break my back for you
but you don't say hello.

I haven't slept in months
but you can't remember my name.

I love you with my entire being
but you don't even notice.

I wait for the day I can stop writing these ******* poems
but that will be the day you start caring.

Your eyes are moons,
lighting the dark skies of my mind.

Their grey tint whispers through the trees,
into the deep forests of my heart.

Moons that hide away through clouds of agony,
clouds holding back rain.

They still shine even though the sun is out,
and to me, they will always shine.

Look at the stars:
how they fall.
The way they hit
the pavement.

The stars are falling,
and we must catch them,
you and I.
We must catch them with
our tongues.

The stars are falling,
and we're covered.
Covered in stars.
We dance,
together in the stars.