fail to admit
you were getting sick
stains on your teeth
from cherry red lipstick
dirt in your nails
picking up sticks
to build a house from the ground
you buried your past self in
marks on your skin
purple and blue
bleed from within
so you look vibrant in hue
your insides burn
like cherry red lipstick
but don't get the same
looks or snippets
your insides are ugly
no matter their coat
please fix them first
before you start to gloat

clear blue
peeking through
negative space
landscape
evergreen
wall of trees
keeps me
driving East

What a day my life has been
Wash the sin then start again
Wakes of bliss and crests of pain
Alive through feeling, all the same

Memory drowned by trauma past
The sense of self could not outlast
Scouring my soul for virtues to recall
Who was I before I became nothing at all

I taste it in the air I breathe
Hints scattered throughout the seaside scene
Yet I remain in the confines of this cave
Alone with my echoes, no new sound made

One day, soon, I’ll listen for the wind
My one true chance to sail again
Until then, I’ll sink and wait
For tomorrow's tide to bring another day

As soon as I wake up,
I see everything I need to be
with such clarity.
But as I take that first step
into the quicksand
that is my existence,
I backtrack and forget.
I lose myself
in the midst of everyone else.
Melting into this world's desire;
extinguishing that unique fire
that I had lit
before I knew of sin
and strife.
Before I ever asked why.
But they say an unexamined life
isn't worth living,
so I'll just keep dreaming
of what I want to be
in hopes that one day
I'll fall asleep
as me.

The atlas to my life debunked
The ships upon my sea have sunk
Settled lives content to be
Yet alone I wander in search of me

What glories past the horizon lay
What compromises forced to make
Within this scope of birth and rest
Proceeding with a cautious step

If only that the wind would blow
And usher me where I need to go
Plagued by doubt and scattered song
If only with me I could belong

Another day,
Another dawn,
Another cause
lost
in the thought of the cost.
Hesitation based
on mistakes that were made
during days that do not pertain
to the present.
Yet here I sit,
so limited
by the idea
that I could make them again.
If only I could shelf
this insecurity of self
and find the hidden wealth
of my efforts.
I need to stop stammering
through the silence.
There's no chance of igniting this
Without a spark,
Without a start,
Without the art
of it all.
Better to fall
with my feet facing forward towards
the notion of something more
than to retreat into the known;
content to be alone
with what the shadows show.
Ignoring the potential of my soul
- That light, seeping in,
past the scope of my willful ignorance.

Wake up.
Breathe.
Try to get a grip
so that I can lift
the weight of this reality.
Thoughts on stream.
Moral compass buffering.
Spitting so there’s some shine;
so clean.
No need to wonder why,
accept that tainted gleam.
Seeing is believing,
and I’ve gone blind
trying to find the meaning behind
the reflection in your eyes.
Shattered mirror every time
I catch a glimpse of myself;
looking for anything else
to be
other than me.
One day these warring factions
might make peace or sense.
Straddling the fence
that divides nature vs will.
See, I don’t have to ****
to know that death resides
on the dark side of this strife,
but when it comes to life
I have the hardest time
determining what is right.
When there are infinite sides
to every person and story
I can’t help but worry.
In a perpetual state of anxiety,
as I fail but keep trying
to understand why
this drive - to know
consumes my soul.

I suppose if the arts had any real power
Michaelangelo's David could have healed my brother
Rimbaud could have saved Hiroshima
Monet could have painted the world in shades of peace
Desiderata could have protected me
But this is the real world
And where poetry once grew comes the art of fabrication
Dali's obras are no longer enough to make me forget
Moonlight Sonata never warned me of this hurt
The waltz never healed a broken family

I suppose if the arts had any real power
Beethoven wouldn't have gone deaf
Van Gogh would have been happy
Hemingway would have loved better
And Ginsberg wouldn't have been afraid to love

Yet here they all are
When the only light I see is on hundred year old canvas
When the only solace I have is a dead man's words
When the only thing that keeps my heart thundering
Is the promise of a Boticelli ending in Picasso figures
All colors, beauty, light and metaphors
The promise of a Renaissance gleaming in the ashes of prose

This is the real world
I suppose if the arts had any real power
It would heal more than just my heart
It would build me a new Garden of Eden
And I'd pave a way to nirvana
So the world could join hands
And start anew

But it's saved me for now
That is enough.

I can see you from my 11th floor window, but you can not see me. As you reach this 4 way light you take off your vibrant red hat and stop. As If you're not sure whether to go left, right or straight. You ponder for 9 seconds and go left. What has your day brought you, that you come to a corner so late in the night, and don't know which way your going next? If I could, I would say to you I know just how you feel. At a time when most are lost in their dreams or even making love, you don't know which direction to turn. What has brought us to a point , that at such a desolate hour, you don't know where your going and I lose myself in thought for an hour because I see a person walking down the street? Most are in the comfort of loved ones but we are dealing with the demons in our head. It's quite possible you ran out of bread and desperately need to find a convenience store that's open so you can make the grilled cheese you crave.. nonetheless, May the purpose of your journey be fulfilled and  your hands stay warm. I hope when you reach the next stop light , it takes a few seconds less for you to figure out where you want to be. May the lamp posts light your way and the bitter air be gentle on your exposed skin. You don't know my name, and I don't know yours, but we are a tiny part of each others journey on this lost night.