I just can't seem to get out of my head these days,
that's why I've got a penchant for smiling, when it rains.
You don't quite see the sun when you dwell in the shade,
I've grown beyond a longing for it's warmth on my face.

Nothing's concrete, I see the grey in your white and black.
It's a paradoxical existence, much like Schrodingers' cat.
Am I dead or alive? ****, where the hell am I at that?
My thoughts zip through my head like a thousand angry gnats.

Living The Heart of Darkness things seem increasingly insane,
but I'm trapped on this twisted river, heading deep into my brain.
Maybe it's because in here, I form monsters out of pain.
To feel emotion's difficult, but monsters can be slain.

It was on the walk home,
from school.
A path I always took,
with slow deliberation.
That Frank sidled up to me.
"Hey man, you ever smoked bud?"
Reaching into his sock,
he produced a small bag.
"You wanna?"
That Cheshire grin.
We slipped off the road into a small pine thicket.
He shoved what I'd now refer to as,
"Bricked out Mexican grown *******,"
Into a little metal pipe.
This was no,
"I didn't get high the first time" event.
No,
I got ******* ******.
I wandered my neighborhood after,
for quite some time.
Everything was beautiful.
The colors of the trees and the houses
all burst forth!
Brilliantly vivid.
I journeyed home and came to find;
the beratement, the hate,
it rolled off
like so many drops of water.
I fell asleep listening to "No Quarter,"
for the thousandth,
but the first time.
Life never was the same,
after that.

True criminal, I sold my soul and stole it back.

O wind she is far though
in thy blow whisper to her
to find me on the horizon's glow
read heart's script on the first star!

O wind when thou pass by her
ask if she sings the old song
its notes make her eyes blur
aching for the lover missed for long!

O wind when thou play on her hair
and she feels the touch of my hand
strum the tune softly in her ear
I'm pining in a faraway land!

O wind when her cheeks thou kiss
wet them with thirsty lips' touch
speak to her my only dying wish
to let her know I loved her very much!

he held up a dead coyote
like he had just won first prize
smiling from ear to ear
a look of pride in his eyes

the caption said "predator control"
which brought a question to my mind
if we call survival being a predator
then what do we call our kind?

basic thoughts lead to basic things
eventually it turns into a circle

and our minds get trapped inside

I own everything
do you know what that means?
I am like a king
because I own everything

many wants lead to many needs
eventually, leaving you starving

it's like a mental malnutrition

I have everything
but I don't know what life means
to my things I cling
I have everything

It's hard to feel ****
when you're an unemployed college drop-out
who lives with her mother,
and your most recent achievement
is the stabilization of your short term memory.

I've got my thumb over the send button
of a text to a local ex
who was here in this same room
about, oh, five years ago
putting on his shirt while I
sat on this same bed,
neither ****** nor mother,
calculating the recent decrease in value of my soul.

When despair for the world restrains me,
when it becomes too difficult to feel anything at all
and I cannot move for the way my spinal column coils
the way snakes play dead,
I see my someday daughter like a conscience, like a ghost
Must she inherit all this darkness?

I retreat into the rhythm of my pulse,
Into a single cell’s brave journey from heart to brain
Unburdened by grief or forethought,
Flowing freely.
A heart is a heart,
and a stone is a stone;
I can choose to be soft like an animal, like trust.

I remember there is another world- it is tucked just inside this one.

Thinking about how it COULD be. Thinking about how it SHOULD be. Thinking about how it SUPPOSED to be. Thinking about how it was just MEANT to be..and it just HAS TO BE.. Just BE..