A soul full of soot and sin,
A room of people not used to the climate they're in,
A group of thieves wanting to pursue a night of petty crimes,
further cloaking their city in grime.
No one realizes it,
I play my part and do my bit,
While the world just lays back and sits,
While missing out on the greatest of it.
The canyons they won't scale,
The lakes they won't swim in,
****** into a life of conformity and "fitting in"

im not saying i need you but
my headaches get worse when you're not around and the creases in my chapped lips taste slightly bloodier than the cracks of my knuckles and my nails are rugged and angled from my crooked teeth gnawing at the chipped cerulean paint
and i know i always say cerulean wrong because i was never taught how to
and i know i'm clingy and i might love wrong but please forgive me

i was never taught how to

I remember the way you shook, you quivered,
You soaked every word up that my mouth did deliver.
You told me I was beautiful, for a second a believed you,
Only for you to pull me closer, using my body to relieve you.
Our tongues entwined, our bodies twisting,
I whisper I Love You,
I receive nothing more than shushing.
You took my weakness, made it your pleasure,
Your deepest parts becoming my ultimate endeavor.
You told me to trust in you, when only I should have lusted you,
For after I delivered my desires,
you made me feel ugly, vain, sick, and twisted.
And now I have so many pains, they cannot be listed.
I write my poetry, as you see the pain in my eyes,
You know you're the cause, don't act as if it's a surprise
But when you do this, all of this, and don't have the guts to even sit near me in a room full of friends,
No one has the right to tell me when my pain should end.

When the cold people come out, come out from their earthy graves,
They creep to your windows, and slip under your doors.

When the cold people come inside, come inside to reach into your whole,
They flood your mind, and rush your soul.

The cold people come into your memories, make scenes seem more sinister than they are,
They make you lash out, leaving to others only fresh scars.

The cold people cause you to leave,
when you shouldn't,
when you usually wouldn't,
pushing you to drastic measure you thought you couldn't.

The cold people are the memories of you, the body of me you buried in your yard.
The pictures we burned, the lesson you never learned.

They only come for me, they will not set me free. But I know you refuse to face yourself, so I hope you're happy, so ignorantly free.

If Death was my best friend,
would I go through life unnerving and unafraid?
Would I read through the book of my life, feeling no fear to turn each page?
I would roam where the unwary stumble across the bones of the lost,
fighting for my freedom at any age and at any cost.
I would face my enemies and speak the truth, even if knowing it would lead to my demise
Flank my adversaries and catch them by surprise!
But alas, Death is the friend of no man,
He'll grip you in his icy grasp, regardless of dreams or plans,
He is no respecter of age, youth or elder
Wether you are lost in the storm or already to shelter.
But still I shall not be afraid.
I shall go through the story of life and not only turn, but rewrite every page
For this is my story, for me to rise up and accept my glory,
Wether it be fame, shame or neither
I'll live my life on my terms,
No longer distracted through your intoxicating memory,
No longer wishing to breathe you in like ether

I sat in the field of broken homes,
watched the sun shine bright, down where nothing roams
I heard the sharp violins cut through the blades of grass,
bass rising from the ground, sounds of only the lower brass
I laid back my body, and threw forward my mind
to rest where the drugs know my name, but they know I don't mind
Reading this, they'd probably say I'm sad,
But only I know the true meaning,and I would say, I've been had

He looked up from the pavement that stretched for thousands of miles,
Only to see buildings climb light years into the heavens.
Looking ahead he saw the beauty that had escaped the comprehension of man for millennia, captured entirely in the space of her frame and the glint of her eyes.
He walked forward, heart and hand open.
She met him on the ground that moved beneath them, yet their steps were solid.
She took his heart and gave it life,
Seen to her as mere heartbeats,
But to him, it was
          Bliss.