She has her own star
Down on the boulevard
Where they all line up to see her
Welcome to her life
Welcome to her world
Her life did not go as planned
She thought the whole world was in her hands
She craves intimacy in the worst way
But has to settle for whatever the fellows are paying for that day
She parades around on her concrete stars perfumed and sprayed
Hopeful that someone will find her desirable rather than doubtful
Wears tons of makeup
Smokes two packs a day
She thinks the sooner she leaves this world the better
She had a plan she had a path
Before that monster stole her soul and caused her wrath
Now alcohol and drugs help numb her pain
Nothing but a ghost girl remains
The other girl shed herself just a pile of skin left on the floor
This new person is all anyone will see anymore
She does have a good heart
but rarely uses it
too many people have let her down
No one ever tries to see the person that she is
they never stop to hear her story
They say it's hard work to look that easy
Some may even call her ******
But not me

Sometimes you can do everything right
when it comes to being patient, listening and playing
with a woman and after so many years
that feel like a blissful eternity
she can still leave one 3am night out the fire escape and on a train
to look for something better.

Sometimes you can do everything right
when it comes to helping the homeless;
giving them good and listening to their stories
and maybe even helping them find a job
and still get hit by a bus
soon as both feet jump off the curb.

Sometimes you can do everything right
with a story, and it's a gorgeous masterpiece
of years of editing and chiseling each word
to paint a picture that would make Rimbaud and Van Gogh weep
with ******* exuberance
and still find yourself dying slowly,  broke, in a homeless shelter
listening to a guy who will be hit by a bus
soon as he walked out the shelter
whose girlfriend left him at 3am.

I will grasp the will to write,
To search my finite vision's span
And find some words for our delight.

Using energy to fight
My body's battles, when I can
I will grasp the will to write.

Shining darkness into light,
Spirit raises up a man
To find some words for our delight.

Simple structure's levered might
Rebuilds a level place to stand.
I will grasp the will to write.

Poems don't bring all things aright,
Just perspective and a plan
To find some words for our delight.

My search for beauty, glowing bright
Will not be taken from these hands.
I will grasp the will to write
And find some words for our delight.

Patience I Am stone
Your Touch Disrupt
I Hope I Can Leave
This Part Of Me With You

You Scraped Me Against The Stone
Until I Became
Sharp To The Touch

In a city where jobs are few, and people are many
it would be hard to see yourself winning
when you need money and don't have any
the clocks against you from the beginning

what can a man do, just to get by
what can a man do to be somebody
what can a man do to change his life
what can a man do

selling cigarettes that he calls loosies
maybe he can make himself a dollar
that all depends on who sees
it might be okay if you're the right color

jailed twice for trying to make a living
but in the black, the blue is hidden
seen by the eyes of the unforgiving
just trying to get by is forbidden

with no warrant and no good reason
it's just encroachment on our freedom
tired of the way they treat him
he fought back, they called it treason

a battle he could never win

I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't breath, I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't breathe

what can a man do to catch his breath
what can a man do to make a buck
what can a man do to avoid his death
what can a man do

(this is about Eric Garner, a man who had been arrested twice for selling single cigarettes in a poverty stricken nation. The fourth time the police approached him, he was tired of it, so he wasn't going to jail so easily. The law states that they must have a warrant or a reasonable cause, before they can arrest someone. They tackled Eric, and choked him to death. In the same city, many crimes are unsolved while this goes on. The video of the police killing Eric garner can be found on youtube)

I am awoken by a nagging in my head
its in my mothers voice
the urgency,
I don't know what for, its 5 am.
my submission doesn't speak.
I fill the air with the sound
of my nonsense, a rambling of dreams,
"dont burst the bubble, burst the bubble, burst the-"
a never ending melody.
Because there is nothing louder than this, I have wanted to crawl out of my skin long before I knew it was mine.
And theirs, not mine entirely, composed of DNA so imperfect
even the gods would've laughed.
If you ever want to **** something up to the point its unrecognizable,
give it to me, look what I did to my own potential.
Squander doesn't begin to cover it, almost out of spite.
and i must stop it before it reaches my eyes
it has a certain way of clouding them over
and I just dont want people to realize
that I am swallowing a lump
at the back of my throat
what seems like forever
trying not to get my eyes to burn or
dig my nails deep into someones throat
just to feel their artery and scream
"YOU ******* FEEL IT DONT YOU?
ARE YOU ALIVE? ARE YOU REALLY HERE?
YOU ARE ALIVE, ALIVE ALIVE!."
Then place the sharp bits of my nails
against my skin, hard
and not feel
anything
I struggle with self control
especially with ***
and drugs
and alcohol.

I yell too often, never loud enough to make them hear me.
I am afraid of my own voice
telling people to shut up
Jack knows its not a good thing if I whisper
last time I did I said
"I don't have a pulse, I cant find my pulse."
Before I freaked out and smashed that vase against the wall
and laughed at what a sad broken cliche I have become.
My anger came out in sputtering sobs

And he tried to hold me
because that's what people do in movies
cue the background music
but I didn't let him because I was never any good at acting,

and he never got mad when I hit him
I can hear that "Sshhhh" at the back of
my ear
Forever.
and I could wince at my own humiliation if I gave a ****.
I wont lie it was awkward he sounded scared
"aww dont c-c-ry"
thought I saw a tear there too