a particular man
dedicated his
entire life
to answer the question
'what is happiness?'
he had loved
and been loved
worked hard
and relished
the fruits of his
labor
he tried his best to
do right by everyone
and never to pass judgment
he had travelled far
and wide
never discriminating
and embracing every
opportunity that came his way
however he never truly felt
himself to be 'happy'
sure he had times of joy
and of course times of sorrow
but some kind of doubt always seemed
to linger in the back of his mind
that he was missing out on something better
that he would rather be somewhere else
and this was ultimately his downfall

he never appreciated what was given
to him in the present
and he failed to realize that happiness
is not something one achieves
but is something that one
creates

happiness is the fleeting moment
that you were in a specific place
at a specific time
and you were a part of something
greater than yourself

you were just a snowflake
in the avalanche

nervous nights
anxious days
when the devil
takes to his
knees and
silently prays

this blank screen has been staring
at me for a while now
trying to coax out something
worth writing
but i simply have
nothing to say
at the moment

we both know
that is a lie
i'm just trying
to hide the fact
that my mind
is as empty
as the white that is
burning my eyeballs.

we're all made of
the stuff in stars
and whatever is on mars
inside of you
is the same as dinosaur bones
and those pretty little stones

your energy
is universal

for the fifth final time
when i hear that clock chime
i will consider any thought of you a crime
and move
the **** on.