I might have gotten myself into another attraction that could never work, but at least I think I'm really done with you. Maybe circumstances and time have twisted chance out of my hands, but at least my hands don't reach for the empty air where you were anymore when I'm trapped in my own darkness. Even though my luck is crumpled this time, as it always is, at least I don't feel my lungs crumpling and collapsing into themselves the way I used to, every time I heard your name. At least.

****.

this isn't poetry
just some badly disguised prose
as I lament while presenting
unclear images of a black rose
clearly a red one won't suffice
mostly because an "altered"
state of mind

surely my ineptitude stems
from this vicious and cruel world
whose inhabitants have no interest
in accepting their inner humanity
it has nothing to do
with my inability to clearly
express ideas and notions
simple thoughts through complex emotions
the world is at fault
******* world!
it's everyone's fault
except mine!

the ******* continues
it goes on and on
each voice to its own
all of them unanimously accepting
how the world is broken
how this isn't poetry
how souls get shattered
as ignorance blooms
rejoice!
no one is at fault
it's the past that haunts
creeping into the present
destroying youthful innocence
rejoice!
no one is at all fault
we all listen and accept
with open arms
idleness and neglect

this isn't poetry
it's just a waste of tim

If I were to knock
Knock-knock
Would you let me in
Or keep the lockless door
Locked?
It's seems I've been struck
by being caught in a riddle
where the middle line
is something about time
and it's correlation
between poetry creation
and feeling euphoric

If I were to ask
Does this poem
Bring about some emotion
Or even a notion....?

I guess in the end
What I want to know
If I were to knock
Knock-knock
Would you let me in
Or keep the lockless door
Locked?