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.

they'll tell you I'm too self deprecating
that I'm not as bad as I think I am
they'll warn you of my mood swings
that I go dark too often
that I'm not self aware
I just saved you the trouble of asking
so go join them
they're over there
confirming by action every thing I hate about me, you, and them

Sometimes.
I like to imagine the world drenched in fire and carnage. The woeful screams of the entitled ****** echoing through the once fertile plains of the Midwest.
As I casually stroll amidst the piles of decaying rotting flesh whistling to myself. The smell of burnt hair and regret permeating the air around me. Smoke and ash choking out the Suns rays letting darkness reign.
And then my show comes back on so I go back to eating my sandwich and watching tv.

What may I ask enthuses you, what makes your eyebrows flutter?
If I was to speak of passion? Would your heart not race and stutter?

If I were to be a person of a rare outstanding merit.
Would not your hearts desire be something I'd inherit?

What if I were a vagabond, a drifter without a worry.
Someone simply looking for your favor with a curry.

What say of this my only friend? For the moon she is upon us.
Before my dreams escape my grasp and fall into the furnace.

The moon she left, without a word, no praise for I had she.
You vanished with the rising sun, leaving only me.

Come Cerebrus, you cursed mutt, for me is nothing here.
Lead me to your master, so his pity I may endear.

"I could write you a poem", I said,
hoping against all hope.
"And what would I do with that?"
she reached for a cigarette.

"Perhaps it would make you happy?"
"Is that what you want?" she said.
"To see me happy?"
"Moreso than to see the morrow." I pleaded.

"What about what I want?"
The ember glowed highlighting her cheeks.
"Name it." my hand reaching for hers uneasily.
"I want you........(she smiled to herself) to go away."

It has been many a night,
many a dream has come to pass.
Her skin a reflection of the sun
as it brushes amber stained glass.

The softness of her lips,
petals of the sweetest flower.
The aching of these memories
ceaseless every hour.

The temper of a hurricane
meeting a tornado in a bar.
The passion of a new moon
even with its celestial scars.

Time has made her a spectre
it is my dreams she haunts.
I left without an argument
I gave her what she wants.

Cursed am I to exile
to ponder what she is.
A beauty yet unrivaled,
what was and never is.

Was it I?
Who made these decisions.
Why do I feel juxtaposed?
Is this normal?
In contrast to those around me.
No matter where I am,
I don’t belong there either.
Maybe that’s it.
The why.
Perhaps I went on to live, when in fact I should have died.

It seems the hardest concept for most people to grasp.
Is the suggestion that their existence is inconsequential to the universe.

It seems to be my lot in life, the manner by which I live.
It'll never matter what I do or say or think or what I give.

I read somewhere if it is that they won't make time for you.
Then it is that they don't care and have other things to do.

Maybe they're too busy and there's others they want to see.
To assume my name is on that list, would be a fantasy.

I do not hate or wish ill will for who am I to blame.
If I were you and you me I would probably feel the same.

I may very well be the fool.
But I will not entertain arrogance.
I may very well lie to you.
When I'll tell you I'm fine when I'm not.

I may very well get angry.
In which case I won't be in mind.
I may very well be a plaster saint.
I'm as lost as you but you won't see it.

I may very well leave you here.
But I'll just be right over there.
I may very well love you.
Unconditionally.

Did you see?
Do you have it with you?
I do.
I take it out and look at it.
When the night is at its coldest.
When the batteries have gone dead and the music has stopped.
I unfurl the tapestry of that moment.
I hang it up in the back of my mind.
And I watch it play out.
The colors surrounding.
The silence in the air.
The smell of your skin.
It was an all encompassing moment.
A warmth unforgiving and a softness too rarely felt.
The day I kissed a hummingbird.

You ever think about what it would be like to leave yourself behind?
Just dispose of you the you and everyone else knows.
Venture out into the deep blue nothing in search of everything.
To be the you you always dreamed of being.

To live with reckless abandonment.
Or to take that chance. To risk all your known comforts.
To fall in love haplessly. Or to burn that bridge for good.
Why is it so scary?

Is the unknown that terrifying?
I don't know now what will happen when.
So does it really make a difference?

I want to write you a poem concerning how I feel.
It has to come across as meaningful and real.

So I wrote a little bit about my gratitude for plumbing.
Praising pipes and faucets just sets my fingers strumming.

Then I thought this wasn't good and to this make amends.
So I started out on lust, counting down my favorite sins.

What am I? A charlitain? A purveyor of filth and ****.
Someone who speaks of things he wants to stick up in your ****?

No my dear tis not the case at least not this time around.
I'd rather set your mind to ease not run your ship aground.

So let's start by whispering something soft meant to ease.
You can use my sleeve to wipe your nose should you ever sneeze.

Wasn't that not good enough? A little gross for your taste?
Let try to redeem myself I promise I'll make haste.

She approaches draped in honey surrounded by an amber glow.
Knowing things I can assure, you may not want to know.

Like the sun was to Icarus it is her smile that melts my heart.
Without her works to inspire I wouldn't know where to start.

So it's her you have to blame if it's this line you do not like.
I gotta warn ya, if she likes, I'll put your head upon a spike.

Lips like fire smoldering under eyes an emerald green.
Yes I know I got it wrong Todd my eyes aren't so keen.

I'd like to say in closing a great many things.
To spout a song so beautiful like the first few days of spring.

But alas I'll fail you and end this ridiculousness.
By saying I adore you and I need to take a ****.

So tis here I leave you but never for much too long.
I'll cross your mind again one day when you hear my favorite song.

We were assigning characters from Game of Thrones to different members of the staff based on personality.
They gave me Ramsay Bolton..............I had them all filleted.

Today or tomorrow.
I'll never be able to tell you.
To be reached out for.
To see a hand appear out of thin air.
Seeking only my hand.
I've seen it happen in movies.
Where she looks at him.
And it's only him she wants to see in that moment.
That must be an amazing feeling.

To be written about in prose.
To be an infection on someone's mind.
So much so that they need a release.
So they write, or they call just to hear their voice.

Something else to be imagined.
Like flight. Escaping.
In one life maybe.

I am neither despondent or a respondent of I.
I just accept what it is with a soulful sigh.

From the halls of my mind I relish to find a plight more sorrowful than this.
A missed opportunity a forgotten gratuity or a misery that began with a kiss.

To open my eyes and still see the same lies that still permeate my way of life.
All the forsaken and who are mistaken and some who just live for the strife.

So much turmoil still setting matters to boil and where were you when I looked around?
I screamed and I shouted I stomped and I pouted, and never did I hear your sound.

I have arced my neck to gaze up at the wreck the celestial gods have created.
Touch them I can't so it is that I shan't and so again my dreams are abated.

I hope when I die not that you'll cry but that I may then return to the light.
Not because I belong but to hear that song that'll bring that moment back into sight.

I want to keep my eyes open I know I will cope when I see something I've hoped would be true.
Under an undying tree the sight of me sitting across from you.

If I want to see her.
I look up at the moon and close my eyes.
If I want to smell her.
I sit down wind of the lilacs up on the hill.
If I want to feel her.
I step out into the sun after a rain storm.
If I want to hear her voice.
I read the words she's left behind.

I can’t write to you
Not in the first person
I can’t tell you how I feel
I’ll **** for you
Is that enough?
Please ask me to **** for you
I can’t tell what I want
I’ll cook for you
Do you like panda?
I’ll deep fry a panda for you
I can’t say that you are mine
You can have my organs
Just pick one
Not the lungs!
I can’t say Us
I can recite The Raven
Poe? No?
Nobody ever wants to hear it.
Because the only thing that’ll ever matter to me is you.

Can anyone tell me what I’m suppose to do now?
There’s no one left.
She’s gone. (I wasn’t good enough I guess.)
So what do I do now?
No family. No friends. Just work, books, and whiskey.
Is that it?
I never really wanted to live anyway I guess.

It's raining and it's all I can hear.
I wish you were here.
I wish you understood.
It's raining here, it is all that I can hear.

Satiating my desire for serenity without having to abandon my mortal coil. This rain falls calmly, it doesn't look to erase anything. Only to replenish.

I wrote to you of my wrongs. Perhaps the rain bled my letter. The quill translated so many of my thoughts that night.
The black sweat of a bottle, traced feelings upon parchment. Erased by this cursed rain. I am held to its will and it to mine.

I can't tell you about my first kiss.
Fact is, I don't remember it.
You want to know what I do remember?
Of all the things my mind can hold onto in excruciating detail.
I remember the day after I turned 15. The day before went by as just another day.
I tried to hug my mom and tell her I love her. She turned away from me and said "you're not worth living for".

I want to write about you
I really do
I want to tell the world about you
Remind it just how lucky it is to have you
How it is the night falls down around your face
The things you hate about yourself that I love
How the best way to warm up a cold room is to make you laugh
But I can’t
As hard as I try, I can’t
Because as it turns out
I never really knew you at all

After years of thought on the matter on whether or not it matters.

Implicated complications frivolities and such.
Demand my time and suffrage, a very gentle touch.

I seek to find a reason for these things I don't control.
Why must these things happen? I tell you I must know.

Does karma as it does hold a certain sway?
Or do the gods themselves decide on judgement day?

Perhaps I'll ask Ganesha, he should know of what's become.
Maybe I can trade if I tell him where he's from?

Do I have to leave my mortal coil to come upon the truth?
To finally hear my dark side speak, no matter how uncouth.

To **** the nature of anything is really quite obtuse.
Failure to understand this thing, doesn't mean it's of no use.

Your beliefs my friend have failed you, there lies no right answer.
Ignorance prevails again, like an existential cancer.

I think I'll stick to thoughts and leave my mind open.
It seems to be the fairest way and easiest with coping.

I hope you find your happiness, your illusion be it good.
Me? I'll just keep hanging on and let it be as it should.

Until I get some feedback, positive or negative. I'm never going to know if I should go back to being a counselor for sexually abused farm animals or keep writing.

She lies in the ashes, like a phoenix that hasn’t learned to fly.
Colors afire swirl about her reflecting her spirit.
Ever changing in tone and hues, she’s alight with passion.
The rain falls harder the heavier her heart.
And the sun feels like cotton when she is happy.
Mysterious forces pull at the will when she smiles.
A ****** like rush surges to your heart.
Insatiably compelled you feel like you can’t live without it.
I can only imagine.
I can only, imagine.

I'm not here to be ridiculed, mock, or even roasted.
I'm just not keen on this party or the guy you chose to host it.

Overhead I hear someone touting their grand beliefs.
Therein is your problem lad, who says you even need a chief?

Parties and their senators the governors and their staff.
These are your dear leaders? Am I to ****** laugh?

The Capitol is a rat king wherein their lies are entwined.
Power, greed, and pettiness plaguing their hive like mind.

I'll be honest, I don't care, my life it seems to never change.
You can elect a ****** waffle, it can't get more strange.

These things you want to happen, it'll always start with you.
You can be your own ignition, you only have to see it through.

So elect yourselves an Eggo, a ******, or a *****.
Either way I'll bet my *** in four years you'll want a switch.