And droplets of water morbidly spoke to one another before off the cloudy ledge they went.
(sighs)
if only they allowed for a slight angle in their trajectory upon committing suicide .
Who wants to hear feeble bodies splatter and break on impact against a window?
Frankly, (yawns) I find it rude.

"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for." - John Keating, Dead Poets Society (1989)

*As a child I loved you Mork, as an adult you taught me the fine line between laughter and despair.

The sun rays invade the hall
Swathing the floor with warmth
Artifacts of yesteryear look grand
The stained glasses add to the aura
Reminiscing the magnificence
Resounding voices of commands
So many at the beck and call
Slightest whisper was authority
Twilight descended on the dynasty
Sun rays reminding the past
All faces but remains in portraits
Years ago, the tales that transpired
Writ all over the walls and artifacts
Glorious past lit up by morning rays

The wise
Follows wisdom
A silent path

It's the silence that always gets you.
The laughter is a drug and there is no worse a addict than the comedian
Behind the laughter is the insecure person you never see .

It's the empty rooms the miles between gigs it  always comes to that next fix.
Those few seconds when I can  be  everything I'm not the escape is the best release there has ever been.

And as you leave it behind the ego deflates and the isolation sets in were all children in tattered shells called adults .
So fragile the rock that seldom does embrace the sea .

Were all ****** up in are own separate ways.
Behind the laugh at times is the worst place you may ever realize you want to be.

I have this really bad habit of not getting angry.
I don't allow myself to.
I shut down all human emotions.
Like when a friend treats me like a backup plan, a just-in-case friend,
I just shut down.
I begin yelling at myself in the mirror, imagining that it's my friend I'm looking at and not me and really if they were here there'd be no problem,
but before I get done with the first sentence,
I stop.
Breathe.
Feel nothing again.
Maybe it's because I think so little of myself.
Even expressing negative reactions toward a friend makes me less of a person and a super ****** friend.
Maybe, I've always lined up with my friend's favorite person in believing
"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."
Because if they try,
I get back at them by not feeling at all.