Somedays I wake up,
and I pray to whatever is above me,
whether it be God or something else beyond my comprenesion,
isn't there to wake me up.

Somedays, I lay there,
In my bed,
surrounded by the warm layers of fabric that seem to hold me together,
and wish that they would just curl tighter around me,
and constrict me closer into myself,
and pray that they can gently convince my lungs to stop working,
so I can just not wake up.

Somedays, I wonder,
Just gazing around me,
If i can just stop the clock, and stay right where I am,
safe and sound comfortable in myself,
away from all of the anxiety I feel as it would
rise and fall in my chest and bury itself with the confides of my stomache,
and all the other nitches that it can find,
and I dream of not waking up

Somedays, I win.
Somedays, I lose.

I usually lose.

And I find myself uncurling from my happy prison of warmth,
and I feel my feet on the cold hardwood floors,
sighing as I run my finger thrugh my ***** hair,
wondering, not praying
how I ever was able to wake up.

Dusted off a yellow scrap
From the depth of time,
A line scribbled,
Each letter dipped in raw blood,
That's when I was mad.
Infatuation, they call it,
Feelings that pass of
When maturity beheads emotions,
Foolishness of youth
Flies away on wings of calculations!
After caressing the parchment,
I put it back to its own time,
Because it doesn't belong to now,
The first flutter of heart,
A flimsy fragile impractical thing,
A wound I still carry,
Falling and failing in first love!

One time I saw a boy,
with a bright smile,
walking down aisle four.

He reached out to me,
and said hello,
as I reached for a cantaloupe.

His mother talked to me,
said he was an angel,
was always nice to every stranger.

That boy,
he made me smile,
as he ran down the aisle.

A few year pass,
and I'm at a cafe,
wasting my life away.

You hear about hate,
and how strong it can be.
It's something I don't believe in.

But hate found that boy,
and tore him right down.
Saw his face in the Sunday paper.

They heckled him to death,
till he could no longer take it,
thought his life would be better if it was taken.

Cause when life is a weight on your shoulders and you're ready to break,
you think about giving in.
And when life is a burden and you feel like a mistake,
it's easier to quit rather than living it.

One time I saw a boy,
with a bright smile,
walking down aisle four.

1680

Sometimes with the Heart
Seldom with the Soul
Scarcer once with the Might
Few—love at all.

Don't come round here flirtin'
If you haven't got the game
If you can't deliver
I don't want to know your name

Sending drinks and cutesy smiles
Don't go too far round here
You'd better send at least two shots
And at least a jug of beer

You'd better bring your "A" game buddy
Cause sometimes it gets  ******
Don't leave your "A" game on the shelf
Cause you'll go home all by yourself

You'd better give as well as get
Now you're in the south
Our cougars here aren't like those up north
Our girls ...they give good mouth

They've heard it all a million times
Don't come with a cheap line
They don't drink things with flowers in
And they don't drink cheap boxed wine

You'd better bring your "A" game buddy
Cause sometimes it gets ******
Don't leave your "A" game on the shelf
Cause you'll go home all by yourself

They're barracudas in this bar
They've got teeth, and they will use 'em
So, buddy you'd best be on your game
Or you won't go home a twosome

Our women here get treated special
And son, they're mighty proud
Look at someone elses woman
And they get mighty loud


You'd better bring your "A" game buddy
Cause sometimes it gets  ******
Don't leave your "A" game on the shelf
Cause you'll go home all by yourself

Soulless,
We quenched our dreams with thirst;

bought the heavens,
Waving a country of radio love

As fee,

United under one Internet
Two Chocolate paper ******* announcements
And $6 New York Halal meat.

The mortal man always drinks his sea--
So ask your doctor about Nixon
And lift the verbs off your skirt
For Nemo
who replaced Icarus
And now twerks at synods
With ******* oven oil glued
To his left fin;

The same one God used to bet Satan over the soul of man.