Unconditional, Unintentional,
Yet forgettable in every aspect.
The only memories had slowly fade to Black,
Dwindling to nothing as dusk settles in-

Simple as that, forgotten

-Though from it's frigid grave the sun rises,
And your world is illuminated once more.
New memories to be made wait on the horizon,
But in the end you'll always be:

forgotten

I have survived sufficiently.
Though, not without some struggle-
Strife and I became very good friends,
~You see.

Chief among the strongest of my most
terrible experiences would be the loss of
~My best friend.

You see, I was 16 years old.
Though, I didn't always feel 16-
Dissatisfaction; my own predicament,
would be the downfall of you
~And me.

I can't believe the things
that changed; At one point,
most improbably so, I thought
I'd surely comprehend how we
~Were never meant to be.

So you see;
In the line a story was told
Silver was it's name-
And through each day I felt
the same, but you were never there.
Even if that is the truth
And likely born from our youth
I've got to end, my friend,
this dastardly affair.

Along thine path
grow flowers; shapes
and sizes abound,
but nothing could
compare to all
the things you've
found

along the way-
Egregious liar
born-again friar
that woman briar
all to the ire
of your mother.

Thus I admire
this walked path
of contest and
clashing, both of
the asomatous and true;
incorporated incorporeal-
ism, what else could you
possibly do?

Slowly
All
Definite
Necessities
Excluding
***,
Severed from the parts of me that I held dear.

Listless, drifting, lost;
My dreams appear to have become one with my nightmares.
Scarred beyond the cost
I was willing to pay, caught in your snares
I find myself
Listless
Drifting
and
L
                         O
                                                       S
                                                                                   T.

What kind of friends
slip right through your hands?
I'm drinking bottled love now-
Leftovers from
a time long past.

I've learned to love the taste of it-
dripping down my throat
~and burning through my bones~
Eyes like rivers, and
dream-like shivers.

But she told me:
"If they really wanted to see you-"
I cut her off.
Limbless and Lost
I trudge aimlessly through time.

Save your breath oh lover,
for its far too cold out there
for someone of your stature
-vague and ghastly-
It’s rather reminiscent of your nature.

Eyes like clouds;
The kind that know no bounds
And unleash hell round after round
-Thunder and lightning, baby-
Till I find out I’ve been clowned.

Keep on hiding behind your lies,
And oh lover? Go **** some other guys.

A sack of flesh,
Piloted by a conscious,
That wishes it wasn't.

Good day, my love; how could it not be?
I've got you and love and everything
else that could possibly be in between.

For without you, my dear, I'd likely be bare-
A cliché with no subject:
No leaves to be spared.
.........................................................­.................................................................­..

You've speared me straight through, impaled one might say, and that makes it quite difficult to get far away. A fine sharp knife, that tool you named love, now tear me apart from below and above.
Because there isn't much left; time and all, but you'll pay for this theft no matter how small.

For with you, my dear, I live truly in fear-
A deer in the headlights of a fast moving car
Clichés abound everywhere-no matter how far.

A lit match:
The smell of cigarettes-
A burnt paycheck-
Momma was right,
makin’ the world mine.

Cars out of gas:
I’m out of gas, too-
Wrecked it? Not quite-
Momma said write it out;
takin’ one day at a time.

Broken expectations:
Thought I’d break out-
But that mold’s still seeping in-
slipping through those cracks
in the glass where I keep my dreams.

Momma said ‘fight it now,’
that ache in my bones.
But I’m spilling diesel-
-with a match, a flash, and a smile;
my last rite:

“How trite”

One Mississippi-
Two Mississippi-
And three, of course,
but we never made it
to three, no,
not you and me.

Cracked concrete
cobbled together
by quatrains of
soil, love, water,
and rock-

Not of the ages,
but certainly of
this year, although,
who really keeps
count?

Back to the
cemented beliefs
and stone streets
that we came up
on. Take a step, a
jump, on one, on two;
you're free.

Thrift store reverie;
Books and bobbles line the shelves
cluttered as can be,
Juxtaposed within my mind
surely reminds thee,
of me.

Uncanny in my tenacity
characterized by much veracity
Probably at my capacity
for dealing with too much tragedy-

A man who passed, his home the last place
I'd ever want to be, but the
comfort of warped wood chairs;
ancient glue and rusted screws, well
that's enough for me.

Hidden beneath a silky veil,
Those eyes tremble with the truth.
Confused, lost, misunderstood,
These words you hold dear.

Perhaps it would be best if you stopped holding on,
Just let go-
Or instead perhaps you should grip tighter,
Holding on to a moment that will soon slip away;
Lost in a moment to the tumultuous sea that is life.

Confusion boils like water,
Though it does not evaporate.
It only hardens into mistrust and desperation,
But there is nothing easy that can be done,

Because the easy way out will leave only a void in which nothing but empty promises and white lies reside.

Sounds of bliss and joy
bob lazily on the breeze-
These exquisite days.

It takes two to tan-
go anywhere with me love.
~Freedom of the heart~

It takes bravery
blustering about so
haphazardly, like
unsecured cargo.

Cargo whose entire
purpose remains as
simple as moving
between two places;
undamaged.

Yet you cannot even do that, can you?
Remain undamaged?
Un-shorn from your moorings?
No.
Because you are unsecured-

-Insecure(d).

Perhaps it is your
own blind bravery
bolstering your beliefs-
Or perhaps not.

Perhaps, it is your lack of
any pondered plan or
predetermined paradigm
that hangs you out to dry-
Or perhaps not.

But what I do know is this:

Regardless of pondered plans or
blind bravery, all that remains
is finding a way
to fix yourself.

To liken this to the way I feel is to say that two of something is always better than one,
Take for example socks, with their different colors, shapes, and sizes:

One size fits all!

Buy 2 get one free!

That's how it feels to be loved by me,
The more you give, the more you'll see.

Swept under the rug;
Forgotten-as if i had
Never existed.

Love's quite punny
truly.
All those funny lines
configured-
I love you:
(insert pun here).

But our love must
have missed the memo.

The closest to a pun
you ever got, was when
you spun my love into
the rope I hung
myself with.

F**k you.

What am I doing?
Living and breathing for sure;
There isn’t much else.

Time ticks slowly by-
the nights end draws near,
and blessed be the ones
I never saw so clear.

For changes are a comin'
and this I know is true,
for me and you and everyone
on our sacred blue.

Lest we fail in growth
and life moves on the same.
we have not much in this world,
besides ourselves to blame.

You were right, in every aspect of the sense;
You were entirely right.
I destroy sunlit beaches with endless darkness,
I ruined the gardens of Eden,
And here I lay now, surrounded by the corpses of my decisions rotting in my mind.

I break hearts that I never wished to break,
I even managed to break my own heart into enough pieces to fill the cup that I drink from.

Poisonous were the things I did and poisonous will they forever be.
.
.
You, were, right.
I am a poison to myself, and I have truly lost everything that once held meaning, be it you, or the love of my friends.

And here I lay now, apologizing for something I did many moons ago because it still haunts me...

You may not care and that is the appropriate response, but I want you to know that you were right, I lost everyone and everything I truly ever cared about because of my own
God
****
*Decisions.

Swerving,
Left lane then-Right
on time to my own funeral...

Headlights fly by;
Flashes of light at this speed.
I'll tell myself not to cry,
and finally concede to this universe's greed.

Swerving,
Right lane then-Left
all my wishes behind. In general,

I'll say I've found the place
in which I can finally breathe.
One-hundred mile an hour pace,
and finally with gritted teeth;

Crash.

Eyes glazed
Blood boiled
Fears cauterized
Hope annihilated-

Who gives a **** about my nightmares

When by a stroke of luck-
The clock struck
10-toes down on the ground-
Ceaselessly running from death

Voided entirely by thoughts-
Black and burnt

Who really gives a **** about my nightmares

Not me, not you, nor him, nor her;
Neither anyone else on this bruised marble we call home

**** nightmares and **** you

As far as the ear could see,
there were whispers-
let once upon flowers,
whose petals wilted and died thereafter.

i.
Secrets don't make friends
this I know for sure

past lives and past times,
feed me the broth of your lies.
Lightly it grazes my lips;
the skin stretched over my bones trembles,
malnourished.

ii.
Words will never hurt me
what a lie that was

"What's the tea"
"Ooooohhh, I love drama!"
spill your guts heathen,
expel all that which you would rather hide.

iii.
Make sure you don't miss twice.
If you do, that might just give me a shot to survive

Whispers carried on the air like silence in a vacant room,
vacant like a widows heart-
filled with thoughts of yesterday and before.


Let me be, lest you whisper me into eternity.

Each and every single one of my friends is great at something and good at even more:

Writing papers, politics, dealing with little kids, art, making music, fixing cars, etc.

These are all interesting or cool, unique in a way that fits these people’s personalities.

But my list of things I’m good at starts with giving head...
And ends with writing half-decent poetry.

What a useless bunch of skills, don’t you agree?

-Thursday

if defining something
intangible
is easy; because definitions
hardly change, only meaning-
then why is holding on to love
so difficult
through all of the things we are
experiencing?

-Friday

~time can heal all
wounds, they've said,
always this was true.
but nothing could have prepared me
for all my dealings with you.~

I wish I knew how rose petals felt after fresh rain.
I wish I knew how the clouds looked as they drifted over frosty mountains.
I wish I could remember the smell of the kitchen while my mother cooked dinner.

But here I am, and here I will stay;
The world unfamiliar to my eyes,
Because I doubt that they would see it’s beauty.

I truly wish,
That I could have known,
How it felt,
To not fall victim,
To this pain.

Relentless and endless,
Rocky cliffs faced with waves the size of
Mt Everest, the tallest of all the mountains;
Utterly insurmountable to the naked eye, unforgiving.

Relentless and breathless,
I faced those waves and those mountains,
Eyes fastened to the future in front of me-
Wishing once more for guidance-it never came.

Relentless and hopeless,
I strove for greatness, the ess of which could and can not be quantified-
Yet I found myself drowned in a pool of my own hubris-
For what does anyone want but greatness?

Thus my story ends, piercing blue eyes closed, no excess of sadness in this city,
I guess what I ought to say is that hope is priceless, and for those of you who disbelieve, I pity.

We are all imperfect
pieces of people
from lives long past.

A mixtape with
too many DJ's;
a rap ballad with
-at the minimum-
eight-plus features
and three producer tags.

O.R. nursin' our way
through another
twelve hour shift
with a distinct
lack of direction:
adrift.

Then, nursing a
twelve-pack with a
perceived sense
of our sensibilities-
prejudiced by
our pride.

~~~~~

We are all imperfect
pieces of people
from lives long past-
and,
~
~
~
that's O.K.

Time passed away peacefully in the night. Not with a bang. Nor a whimper. Certainly not a real sound of any kind--rather, with the slight hiss of a few inflated egos and some deflated expectations.

But, time is only a measurement and thus sound is somewhat meaningless to it.

Therefore, judge yourself not by the loud opinions of those that limit themselves to the whims of time; instead, judge solely by the sounds of laughter, love, and the tinkling of crystalline memories that surround you.

So,

As you embark on the journey of your lifetimes, please never forget that you are the master of your own march--across time or whatever else you choose to measure the success of your life by.

And, to all of you, thank you for a wonderful first year, and good luck!