You are a lantern
And I am but a moth,
Gazing in awe at your beauty and welcoming presence.
As if in a trance, I draw near
And bask in your warm light
Too enveloped in your grace
To notice the corpses littering the floor.
You burn my once-gorgeous wings until I can no longer fly,
You sear my retinas so all I can see is you,
And yet I can’t leave, too reliant on your heat.
And just like that, a switch is flipped.
Your light goes out.
And I am left alone with only the wreckage you brought me
And the knowledge
That it’s all my fault.

"Pretty girls don't smile!"
Those are the words of wisdom
fake soothsayers preached,
not thinking that she'd listen.
Alas... now she's cold as ice.

The soul hunters came for me the other day
but it was okay,
because I don't have what they want
anyway.

So much to do, so little time with you left..

an everlasting love
sometimes hidden
but always there.

Ideas swirl in my mind
Forming windstorms
That pick up scattered thoughts and words
and grow into tornadoes
that whirl across my mind.

They distract from life
From what's real
and what matters.

But when I sit down to write
They all flee in terror
And my pen hovers above the page
filled only with scribbled out phrases
and my own insecurities.

You ask me to open up,
But I don't understand.
Have I not let down my walls for you?
Have I not let you into the deepest parts
of my heart and soul,
entrusted you with the darkest part of my being,
by letting you read my poetry?

I love rock and roll
but the video killed the radio star
because no one lives forever!

Aching,
empty.
Restless
but not
in motion.
Words
blocked
like a
******'s dam.
Leaking through
the cracks
waiting for
the flood.

I search for my reflection
but it is here no longer.

Fractured light gleams off the walls
Reflecting off the Rolex strewn casually across his immaculate desk
Its platinum plating smirking at the watchers
From under the diamond rock.

He wanders through the halls
Stares at the struggles of those below him
Through the translucent walls.

Reaches out a hand
But can never touch the world
Obscured by the diamond windows
That are his prison.

Tilted, rounded walls make caricatures
Of lives, of livelihoods, of people
Like funhouse mirrors in the playground
Of life.

He winds his way through the streets
Of those outside his cell.
Staring through the milky panels
That bar him from his subjects.

Though he can never touch, never truly see
It is he who holds the power
above the watchers below.

"I love you" is what
I want to say, but instead
I just walk away..

I found you (you found me)
hands hidden
gloves to the edges of your sleeves (I wished I could see)
Box on the side of the road
three kittens inside (I wanted to join them)
One pocket for each crying mind
they were hidden.

Gloves callused, hands warm
you led me to your home (my home)
jacket off gloves on sleeves down
palms against your face
rain against your skin it’s rain it’s rain (I know)
but kittens hide in your pockets
so you wipe the water from your cheeks
and one by one you set them free (it’s warm)
Paws against face against gloves
fingers down their back
running through their hair (you ask them why they’re sad)

No response, except
purrs run hot against your cheeks (my smile is tattooed with your skin)
tails swish against your shirt
fur rumpled, eyes soft
so small against your chest (grow in circles with me)
Gloves off, kittens warm.

Paws against face against skin (they ask you why you’re sad)
it’s rain you say, it’s rain it’s rain it’s rain

(I kiss the tears away)

I locked my lips
And threw away the key
So why is it
That you still can't put your trust in me?

I'll always be there to cheer you up
even if the only way I can do that
is by bringing myself down.

I know that what goes up
must come down.

I just didn't think that our love
would decline so rapidly..

W3n uu sae y0u're goiingg iNsAN3
My 3y3s wiDeN in SuRPrrisee
how h@veE u hE1D 0ff fr0M b33!Ng C@Ughtt
1n th3 syCle of 1!nS@n1tee fOr s0 l0nGg
when the R3st of us
r alr3@tee s0o t@Ngl33d uP !N 1t?!

I wait for the inspiration to strike.
For the lightning bolt to hit me,
for that satisfying boom of thunder
to be the music in my enlightened mind.
But it doesn't come.

Day after day, I sit idly
and wait.
As other crackling lights fill the streets,
I am stationary as ever.
"It will arrive," I say, "When the time is right."
But it doesn't come.

Dawn turns to day, day turns to dusk.
Twilight seeps into the once bright sky
And I know
My time is coming to an end.

But still, inspiration evades my waiting mind.

And then, as the soft light of the stars flicker into view,
Something finally comes.
I stand up and look around, the profound realization lighting my fading sun.
There never was and will never be
a thunder god out there to help me.

Because I am Thor.
The inspirer,
the creator
of my own lightning strikes.

I smile, contented,
but still, I know
I will never create that shock of energy,
that blinding light
or world-changing view

For now,
it is too late.

Friends fall around us
Blood reflects the starry sky
Stain the ground with red

There’s a hole in my body that is your home.
Cushions in my lungs
Blankets in my brain
Kitchen in my heart.
The door is always open
Tables freshly dusted
Windows sparkly clean.
Please, come in.
Leave your ***** dishes in the sink
Put your feet up on the counter.
Scribble on the walls
And drape your clothes on every chair.
Please, mess me up inside.

“What is a poem?”
My English teacher asks,
then barely pauses before answering his own question.
Lists of rules and reasons
spill from his mouth,
so many that he’s cut off by the bell.

I refrain from raising my hand
and telling him that anything can be a poem
if you want it to be.

The painting on the wall,
the fleeting peace that comes
from looking at the moon,
the little boy whose hands are already rough
and calloused with use.

Nothing makes a poem
but our minds and thoughts and wishes
for “poem” is just a word
but what it gives us is ours to decide.

Maybe even this is a poem,
though my English teacher would disagree.

I wonder:
What are you hiding?
Because your eyes are so bright,
your smile so sincere,
your joy so prevalent.
How can it be real?

And if it is, what are the rest of us missing?

I had such a great thought
but its gone away now,
never to be heard from again.

Why do our badly hidden lies
always end in anger-driven goodbyes?

As I stare into the night,
the darkness caving in,
I notice a lonely speck of light
flickering dimly in the sky.
And quietly, I make a wish
and wipe my tears away.  
Everything suddenly seems
a little less dark, a little less loud,
because I know
you’re looking out your window
under the same sky,
wishing on the same star,
and everything’s going to be alright.

You're lost in the destruction, a defect of time.
Your life's been turned around, spun upside down and back again.
The very thread that defines you is coming undone,
your entire life gone in that very moment of loss.
You are alone.
Once so useful, you now are equivalent to trash,
tossed in the can
without a second glance.
The dirt on your back has become too much;
the loss of your partner overwhelming for all.
For, it is true, being a sock without a pair
is nothing less
than a travesty.