Ok. So I guess there was this rabbit or some **** you may find cute.
She only had three legs. She was also deaf and mute.

She happened upon a stream one day and decided to get a drink.
She never saw the eagle. There was no time to think.

She didn't die immediately for she was quite the little fighter.
She kicked her legs frantically until she felt a little lighter.

The eagle he flexed his talons and her rib cage he did crush.
As he soared towards the cliff her innards turned to mush.

The eagle feasted well that day upon our little friend.
Let's face the facts our little friend was ****** until the end.

I suppose that's how it goes, in the survival of the fittest.
You can be the prince of speed and still not make the list.

Sometimes it doesn't matter. That's when you do it out of spite.
Rage like Dylan Thomas, against the dying of the light.

For like our friend the rabbit, that hapless little *****.
Kick against that final breath until your final twitch.

**** death. (mic drop, bow, pick up the mic and hope I didn't break it cause it looks expensive and how many millionaire poets do you know?)

As broken as she is, she makes me feel whole.
A natural disaster in and of herself.
I feel at home in her storm.

As hard as the rain falls.
As soft as the sun after a turbulent night.
She'll never see in herself what it is that blinds me to her flaws.

There's a solace in her voice like that of morning snow.
Measurable to Springs rage against Winters will is her frustration.
She longs to be more than she is.
A tempest.

I've been happy.
That was nice.
I've been angry.
I didn't much care for that.
I've been in love.
That one is exhilarating.
I've been betrayed.
That felt familiar.
I've been hurt.
This one never left.
I've been excited.
It's like a first kiss.
I've been disappointed.
So I avoid people.
Nowadays I'm apathetic.
It has no highs or lows.
I wonder though.
About the other ones.
What they feel like?

I toss my thoughts out into a void.
They won't inspire like the stars.
Themselves scattered.

They disappear into a murky void.
Like the rocks I've fed to the rivers.
Themselves forever lost.

My heart speaks out in some thoughts.
The mind interprets what it can.
Things get lost in translation.

Youll find no joy, no sorrow, no love.
These words of mine have been tested.
No affects do they bear.

Nonetheless they were never mine to begin with.
Like everything else.
These thoughts are about you, for you, and without you.

Love it seems.
Is finding that one tortured soul.
Who's frequency aligns with yours.
And although you see the pain others suffer.
You single out this one person as the one you want to save.
The one for whom you'd give your life if it meant that they would not have to suffer anymore.
And they in turn for you.
Thus cancelling out each others pain.
Only to exist through each others bliss.

Says one who is unsure as to whether or not he's ever been loved.
(sips whiskey, lights up cigarette, and curses the moon)

I shant go into much detail about the who the why or the when
Nor do I care to discuss the them the there or the then
What I can tell you is there is no nothing and that everything is something
To someone maybe not you, that something is somewhat wanting
Perhaps you may have heard about the elephant that lives up the street
Not a very popular girl because for an elephant she's got small feet
Well as it was or should have been to be sure I really can't say
That elephant was just about the finest thing that lived back in her day
Sure she's not much to look at now but now tell me have you considered the feet
There was a time and it was hers where she danced with every song she'd meet
She moved like smoke through their fingers and so many would lose their grip
Say the wrong thing or just run out of time and from out of their lives she'd slip
And then time left her scattered and broken and she grew fat off misery
Now she just hums and wanders around wondering how could it be
See we all have a time, a place, and a thought that is not what could have been
We all have a moment, a turn, or a chance to turn what is now to then
To step back from the world around us and ask ourselves a question
Do we want to be to someone an answer or just another suggestion

A happiness I’d never known before and will never know again.........Jaxon

Strung up and gutted to oft how I feel
Tired of waiting
Wishing that door would open
Pacing recklessly
I've read all the magazines
Readers Digest had some good jokes
The others here
Staring dead eyed
It's been over 46 years
Why does it take so long
The walls are nice I suppose
Ever expanding
Any minute now
She's going to open that door
"Mr Bell? Death will see you now."

One night I happened upon a moon.
A hunters moon I believe it was.
I took a seat upon a rock.
I took a seat just because.

I thought of her not long ago.
It was in the fall if I remember well.
A smoldering spirit awaiting air.
A sleeping inferno under her spell.

The moon she laughed as she often does.
A hapless soul lured into her light.
She favors none, not the old or young.
A sentry of the earth at work at night.

I doused my pipe and set on my way.
I should think not of her for I am lost.
Amidst the ashes of dreams forsaken.
My task to fruition at any such cost.

A wolf long in fang chases the moon.
It's hunger it seems has made it insane.
I must **** this beast to query a favor.
So that the moon will give me what I must obtain.

The answer I seek I believe she holds.
This wolf can't deny me my heart's desire.
The moon if spared can answer my question.
Should I continue or suffer in fire?

Will she ever see through what I have built?
Will her touch be mine to lie underneath?
Or should I waiver to just tumble and fall?
Should I give taste to my heart the knife in my sheath?

I can remember a few things that still make me smile.
Things yet to be pried from my memories weak hands.

I remember how your skin looked in the sunlight that afternoon.
Rose petal textured dripping with an amber glow.

I remember the sound of death as it crumbled to dust underfoot.
The leaves rendered dry and brittle to Falls callous nature.

I remember the first time I saw Canovas Cupid and Psyche.
Liquid marble weighed down my already sullen heart.

I remember the wet softness of her crimson lips in the cool fall air.
I dare say an angel if one had ever fallen graced my failings that day.

I remember so little too often sometimes for no reason.
And for those moments of reflective bliss, I'm happy.

Actions have consequences
If you keep cutting someone
Eventually they’re going to bleed out

I figured it out at a fairly young age, there is nothing I want, only what I need.
But if I could have what I want? Free from the gluttony, the guilt, and the greed?

I want to know what, the where, when, and why.
The who doesn't matter, because everyone dies.

Its my desire to know these things that you don't.
Those things you can't know and probably won't.

Like just what was up with the loneliest whale.
Sung much too loud, no friends by his tale.

I'd like unlimited access to what the Hubble finds.
The **** you keep secret from blowing our minds.

To know what she's thinking, feeling, and ****.
So that I may know whether to stay or quit.

To be right on time for all the best sunsets.
Or to forgvie and forget all those ****** regrets.

To know when and where to see the northern lights.
A front seat next time the Komodo dragons fight.

To know if she's smiling, make the why optional.
To know if she's hurt, this ones unconditional.

And why was I where I shouldn't have been when?
And why the hell cant I go back there again?

How may I acquire a bioluminescent glow?
That one right there would be impressive to know.

Just how did I get her to despise me so much?
Was it the lack of presence, or the last time we touched?

What was the name of her favorite song?
I will learn this if it takes all night long.

I'd toss you down then roll you over and give you a slap on the ***.
I'd tell you I love you then then slap it again and call you a ***** of a lass.

You'd grin a little then slap my face the moment it was least expected.
I'd tie you down and grab a pillow to do what you least suspected.

I'd take a nap after eating some onions then give you the stinkiest kiss.
I might even blind you then run up behind you and hope I didn't miss.

Like bears in the woods we'll grunt and we'll hollar trust me it'll be good.
Come round two you can be Marion and I'll be Robin Hood.

When it's all done the sweat is drying and I've forgotten your name.
We can meet up tomorrow here and again this time we'll play your game.

So what if I lapse?
I'll catch you.
When I fall?
Yes.

I've fallen before.
You will again.
You weren't there last time.
Wasn't I?

It's getting darker.
It usually does.
What'd I do?
You feel your way through as you have before.

They told me it's always darkest before the dawn.
And then they told me all hope was gone.

They lied about the dawn and they lied about the hope.
Tis too soon to hang thyself by an apathetic rope.

It lies in my perception these answers that evade.
The world I see around me is the world I have made.

And when I look inside to my blackened rotting heart.
Standing there before myself, to see my ego fall apart.

I'll find the hope that springs eternal as I've heard them say.
I'll clinch my teeth and gnaw the bit until my dying day.

I don't need you there to catch me if ever I should fall.
And should you say my name in the dark, I may not hear the call.

Rest assured my weary friend for there will come a day.
Until that time my trusted friend there be demons you must slay.

Why we **** and the irrational logic that is ego.

      People really are the worst. No other creature on the planet is as unapologetically narcissistic, ego driven, and petty as we are. And it baffles the **** out of me.
      Let’s look at it from a logical point of view. You wake up in the morning and you think to yourself “I’m a person of fine caliber who deserves the undying love I get.” You’re not and you don’t. You’re a piece of self serving **** and I’ll prove it to you.
       You brush your teeth. You’re supporting a chemical company that tested the chemicals they used to come up with that refreshing minty taste on animals. A creature died so that you can feel clean.
        Your shoes were made by an uneducated poor as **** Malaysian child that sleeps on a dirt floor and hasn’t eaten in two days. But no, they look great on you. You ******* donkey.
        Your phone? That precious ****** device you use to keep the secrets of who you actually are. Those pics, those texts. The minerals used to make that phone were mined by slaves under deplorable working conditions. However, you need to get that ****** selfie so ole Ping Pongs stage seventeen cancer is going to have to wait *******.
        The oil burnt off by the giant ****** container ship they used to transport 90% of the useless **** you have to buy from Walmart? Well that kind of negates your eco friendly tampons, so no Janet you’re not doing **** to save the planet.
         Look. I have no problem with people doing as they do. But for ***** sake, own up to it. If you’re going to be a *******, stop ******* kidding yourself into thinking you’re entitled. Because you’re not.
         Ask nature. I assure you if a Timber wolf should approach you with the ability to talk. He’s not going to say “I ******* love what you’ve done with the place.” Tress are not going to hug you and birds aren’t going to sing to you. They hate you. Nature hates you. Because we’ve done nothing but hate **** her and ourselves at every turn.
         People know they don’t have long. They know their time is short. So they seek out the immediate sources of gratification. “Because tomorrow may not be here Jimmy so if Marilyn wants an interracial ****** *******. What am I as her husband to say?” *** Daryl?
         Hence all the pain we inflict on ourselves and others. The typical person will cut the throat of anything they covet if the right buttons are pushed. It’s inevitable. Even if it means cutting off our noses to spite our faces. A person will do it every time.
        That’s your reason to not trust a ******* if you’re looking for one. Not because of who they are. But because of what they are.
         People are hypocritical cancerous cells hell bent on the indulgences of our momentary needs. That’s it. We deserve nothing because our behavior doesn’t warrant it. We give nothing back in comparison to what we take and we’re as apathetic as **** about it.
         It’s always been the reason for my own self loathing. I feel like I should be apologizing to ******* Gaia every morning for what I’m about to do. I feel like I deserve every bit of pain I’ve suffered for the slights my mere existence has brought upon the world and other people. And.
        That’s what ****** me off about other people. Especially the ones that like themselves. The **** did you do? Cure cancer? You **** and you’re too ****** stupid to even know why. You’re not as nice as you think you are. Because I bet I can round up at least a dozen ******* from your past that would agree. And just by statistics alone, they’re not all wrong.
         We’ve all done our damage. We’ve all hurt someone. We’ve lied for our own benefit and there’s no measure to how far we’d go to secure that which lets us sleep at night. It’s what we are.
         I only ask that people own up to it. Stop kidding yourself into thinking what you get in life is earned or deserved. I can assure you that there is a perfectly irrational answer for it all. And it’s not because you’re special.

Listen
I don’t want the crafted you
I don’t want the person you want me to think you are
I want the real you
Whether in prose or in person
I want the you that cries before the moon because you think she doesn’t love you
I want the you that’s been sculpted by pain
Throw yourself at me
With all the fury of a class five hurricane drunk off destruction
I want you to cut off your ******* hands and paint your world
I want you to pound your fists against the very walls you put up
To cry before the demon that is yourself
Until your knees buckle and that wall drips with the blood of your spite
Tell me who it is you hold in contempt
Tell me who it is that holds your heart at gunpoint
Spare me your ******* delusions
Awaken the beast that slumbers in the darkest chambers of your heart
Rouse that foul creature to bear the weight of your rage
If not
Then why

That time I gave away the words you said to someone better than I.
Or the moment I awoke from that dream I had to realize it was a lie.
The other is where I can't go and you'll tell me no one is there.
I'll smile you'll laugh and gauge my expression while I pretend to care.
I'm not what you want while you keep insisting the opposite is true.
And as with the universe, love, and ***, I've arrived without a clue.
This thing of ours can't be described and is sometimes a little unnerving.
It's not what's said but what's left for dead, that I find a little disturbing.
So tell me this oh shaman so high on peyote and I think paint thinner.
Who wins the war who comes out on top the saint or is it the sinner?
Her love for me carries no weight for it's like that of a bottomless vase.
Pretty to look at though utterly useless it lacks reason more than cause.
You're a vapid source and that says a lot but my patience is wearing thin.
Just tell me the way back to her arms and what bets do I make to win.
The shaman knew nothing so now I'm lost and I can't find my way to you.
Standing before me dripping words so sweet but alas which ones are true.
I think I should go you can leave the door open perhaps I'll find my way back.
This poem is an abortion of random thoughts and desires that have gone off track.

They'll tell you it takes more courage
To suffer than lie down and die.
But I ask you, does it really?
Somehow this seems like a lie.

Traces of us still found in thoughts that should probably be forgotten.
Beautiful reminders of how I ****** up.
Like gifts you never liked but held onto because they reminded you of someone you love.

Suffering is all some of us seem to do. Clinging to an illusion. Is there a reward?
Is there balm in Gilead?

I think I've proved my courage. And now I am tired. So might I? Might I rest? For good.

There used to be this hill upon which I would sit.
I'd watch the stars every night I could as they waltzed across the sky.
I watched Apollo mount his chariot and Ra he did the same.
My favorite nights were when the gods would battle with swords of fire off in the distance.

I thought about that night the night wept.
She was alone, as if it had just occurred to her.
She didn't look at me when I sat on the bed next to her.
She embraced me and cried. It wasn't the "I just found out Tiffany bought the same shoes I did" cry.
It was her heart. The pain was too much to bear.

Forever upon this hill were my four horsemen.
Pestilence, Famine, Disease, and Death.
Steadfast in awaiting my orders they heed in limbo.
And when the day comes when I've had enough.
(ok so the horsemen were just four trees in close proximity but it's my ****** hill so they're horsemen)

I used to imagine being able to walk on the clouds.
Not those whispy ones. Obviously not structurally sound.
No, those big puffy ones. Climbing over them as if they were albino boulders.
Taking ***** on my enemies. Because so would you.

I fell in love three times on this very hill.
And as many times as I paced that ****** hill.
Wouldn't you know it? There was never any love to be found.
In all fairness though. I'm not smart enough to recognize it either.

I never liked the wind upon my hill so high.
Oh sure, every time it got windy the blades of grass would break out into this impromptu synchronized dance montage.
It just had a way of distracting me from my thoughts.

I still think about this hill. It sits on high upon a sill.
It's there this hill must stay. Upon this sill so far away.
I go there in my mind you see. To bury my thoughts or set them free.
I'm taking you there one day too soon.
Don't make plans that afternoon.

I wrote those lines up on that hill. Words like that don't rhyme at will.
**** it and **** I am getting off topic!
This is worse than when I wrote that biopic.
Focus kid, I know you're high. Just make it look pretty and say your goodbye.

My lushly green haired knuckle cocked up from the ground.
It's where you find me should you need me. But that's it. You'll never need me.
Don't worry about it. Because she's up here with me.
And there are no questions. Just laughter.

On a cold hallowed night on the outskirts of town.
When the mist settles thick on that hollowed ground.
Not much happens it’s really quite boring.
It’s a wonder by now that you’re not snoring.
But through the woods into the valley below.
Next to the willow where the lavenders grow.
You’ll find a crypt of something so vile.
It looks of death and reeks of bile.
It’s a skull and crossbones pirate hat.
I got drunk last night and I puked in that.
I threw it in the crypt cause why the **** not.
It’s not something I want it’s just something I got.
Now if you want to know about that house on the hill.
Does blood pour from the walls and onto the sill?
A child eating demon they say lives up there.
It’s in the clause, buyer beware.
Her name is Charolette and she has eight legs.
She ate all her children. The Bobs and the Pegs.
But I think she was killed by a chick with a broom.
They say it happened in the dining room.
To this very night if the winds should stand still.
And you listen closely to the house on the hill.
You may hear the sounds of children dying.
Running and screaming, it’s terrifying.
Those thousands of spiders just been born.
To their mothers will and her hunger scorn.
I know. I failed. I’m just not a good writer.
But I smoke a lot of *** so I do have a lighter.

From wherein did I say I was something way back when?
Excuse me for my grammar, it's this ******* mescaline.

From here on out where were we before the barmaid came to call?
Before I have another whiskey and demand we hear The Wall.

Ahh, you were just about to leave me where others flown before.
Well please don't let me stop you. Here, I'll hold the ****** door.

I tire of the same old.
Stories long forgotten.
Restless staring at the moon.
My will is broke and rotten.

I heard you once tell a friend.
Of how you long to be.
A necessity to someone.
Just as someone isn't me.

I've never been a destination.
Or a thought one would cherish.
I suppose to most I simply am.
One they wish would perish.

So as I said I grow weary.
Of these waxing gibbons.
Weighing on my soul.
These chains are but ribbons.

My words mean so little.
In so I don't mean much.
Holding on to memories.
Of when I felt her touch.

It'll never matter how I say it.
Or write it.
I could dress it up with lights and display it.
It still won't matter.

I could slay a thousand dragons and tell you jokes along the way.
Though your still hanging on the words someone else said yesterday.

I want to have your drink ready for you when you walk into the door.
To hear about your day and how it went down at the store.

I've cursed the moon so many times because it holds a thought of you.
And any love you deserve is probably years over due.

I am the ogre holding up the bridge if ever you should cross.
Time not spent within your eyes could be my only loss.

A million sunsets and all the stars could never hold a candle.
In trying to relate your attributes I'll probably never get a handle.

Think of me a fool if you will, for this I cannot change.
But should I choose your life or mine, I'll step into the range.

The softness of your presence and the warmth of your smile.
Is enough to hold me over for at least a little while.

Suffer the fools, the misogynist, and the others if you must.
Rest assured my wayward friend in me your heart can trust.

She will go to where others have flown before
Relegated as a memory
Something to be delved into
One night over a glass of scotch
While someone I don’t know insistently tells me things I don’t care about
I’ll remember she never said it first.
It always ended with “too”
As well
As well huh?
Her smile.
They all smile.
It’s when they stop smiling that it starts to hurt.
The empty rocks glass snaps me back into the now
They’re still talking
I’ll pay the tab
As an example
I have no whiskey at home
And I’m still not numb enough so I’d like another
But I just can’t listen any longer
To this nonsense
Not while my mind is still on her
And her “too”

So little time afforded.
Life lost to necessities and chaos.
Pulled to shreds by people, places, and things.
What is left for us?

What of ourselves do we get to keep?
What do we give away?
What parts of ourselves do we sell?
For how much?

Do you even know who you are anymore?
Are you who I think you are?
Are you who you want to be?
There are parts of me I left to rot in your hands that I'd like to have back.

Hoping the answers I get are wrong.
Hoping those voices from the dark recesses of my mind are wrong.
To all these questions.
I'm just so tired of asking.

What a shame.
That we find ourselves.
In the here and now.
Instead of.
The there and then.

We stand in the shadows.
Meandering about like blind puppies.
Repeatedly stepping in the **** we leave behind.
We can take off the blindfolds.
We could change things.
We don't dare.
We can't.
We've become to accustomed to the madness.
We've found comfort is the screaming.
Any other sort would only draw suspicion.
The darkness, the moonlight, the silence.
Bearers of our secrets and desires.

The truth will set you free they said as they pulled down the final curtain.
Me thinks they're full of **** I say, and of this I think I'm certain.

Dare I jest or tempt the feathers of that cherub and his arrow?
Curse that lad for he's a fool and he looks a little like a sparrow.

Quell my words and rest my tongue, for its not I who holds her heart.
To tell her so would bind my time, and the clock has yet to start.

I've barred such freedom from my dreams, this lie is all I need.
This illusion is all I have for now, for I am measured by my deeds.

I never got to see the Milky Way
The northern lights
Or Breckinridge
I never saw a shooting star
The Louvre
Or a snowy owl
However, you let me see you
So time can have my eyes
I’ve already seen the most beautiful thing I’ll ever see

They’ll pull out of the fridge
And they’ll say
“Do you want this?”
“If you don’t want it I’m just going to throw it away.”
I have to smile to myself.
Because I feel the same way about my heart.