The beginning is a vicious start.
Of tears of joy and an open heart.
But we are fighting the inevitable,
As the fear of death can be incredible.
we will always be judged by our beauty
as people feel like it's their duty
to speak about us in horrible ways
do they not know that the sadness stays..

but although life can give you greif
you've got to go on with the belief
that through life you will learn from failing
and life is an ocean that you are sailing.
Sail it well as you've got one chance
live it like it's your last dance.

the day i turn 18 i think i'll vanish
leaving behind a puff of smoke
i don't need much, just a bag
full of clothes, money, one picture
the one of us standing before
the cliffs that lead off into the water
under a blue sky in Big Sur
i won't leave a letter for anyone
not my family, friends, or you
i'm thinking i'll find myself
in a place somewhere far away
untouched by every influence
i've been fed since life began
cause right now i can't be honest
about who i am or how i feel
i'm only running round in circles
of never ending questions and puzzles
all the while receiving silence
there are no answers to be found here
but they must exist deep inside
but i can't focus with all the noise
so away is my only choice to go
until then i can't feel need nor desire
no want, assurance, or acceptance
so the day i turn 18 magic will happen
and i will vanish before your eyes

Poets...writers...artists...musicians.
Those who eat their words,
bleed their colors,
breathe their notes.
Only dreamers
of no consequence.
Only lovers of life
who write, paint, sing to live.

Movers and shaker
laugh at the starving artists.
Few will make money,
fewer still reach fame.
Many reach the hearts
of other lovers of life,
resuscitating dying dreams,
breathing hope and beauty,
singing glory and brilliance
into dark, cringing corners.

The bleeding hearts begin to heal
and beat, beat, beat as one;
a marching tune, a clarion call
to gather into thunderheads
to storm toward the movers
and still the mighty shakers,
a deluge of words and images
the music of the multitudes
come down upon the leaders' heads
to swallow them whole
and let digestion take its course.

yes, of course I know your name
you're the girl who always dances
no matter who might be around
can't forget someone like you

you're the girl who always dances
around the house with a smile
can't forget someone like you
a beautiful body like yours, dancing

around the house with a smile
I imagined myself with you
a beautiful body like yours, dancing
writhing in ecstasy on my bed

I imagined myself with you
breathing your essence as you're
writhing in ecstasy on my bed
my roommate was the lucky fellow

breathing your essence as you're
laying wrapped inside his arms
my roommate was the lucky fellow
a treasure locked behind his door

laying wrapped inside his arms
you must have glistened like a gem
a treasure locked behind his door
kept hidden from my hungry eyes

you must have glistened like a gem
your lusciously pale skin forever
kept hidden from my hungry eyes
oh, how I long to hold and caress

your lusciously pale skin forever
no matter who might be around
oh, how I long to hold and caress
yes, of course I know your name

"When you can't sleep,
Write poetry.
When you can't write,
Sleep.
When you can't do either,
It's time to dance away
The fear of strikingly crude words on paper.
The fear of dreams that foretell futures.
The fear that questions asked
Are not dismissed, but answered,
Honestly.
Dance away brief moments of distain.
Dance in the night's waves of raindrops,
Dance in the wind's minute synapses,
These moments are eternal
Within the mind."

Disappointments bitter stain,
I feel it eating through positivity,
festering beneath a grumbling tummy,
I feel it,
But I do not want to feel.
I am aware,
But I want to sink down through the covers,
Until the bed sits above me hovering,
And no one knows I'm down here.
No one can watch me,
Judge me,
Dictate what they think,
I must be feeling,
What I must have done to deserve this punishment.
Down here,
I want **** to cold cement floor
Down in the bed's depths.
I want to feel the crumbs between my fingers,
As I maneuver myself into fetal position.
I want to hear each tear resonate as it crashes.
I want it so cold that tears burn my cheeks,
Freeze on the way down,
And cut like glass,
Just so that I can feel my tears are justified.

The sky’s nose is pressed to the window of a loner’s heart
Knowing something dances in the bottom
And it stands in front of him

Nothing in life shows what a loner really feels
More than that fountain of ink
Whispering from her pen

Still the sky wonders if there is anything really there
Or if a loner’s heart is merely full
Of emptiness dancing bare

You can see the sky’s ear pressed ever so closely  
Against the window of a loner’s heart
Listening to the pulsing beat

Knowing something wondrous dances in the bottom
It is timeless yet, still he wonders
If it only dances in the ink