Ive penned out my illusions and I knifed them to a wall, now I’m going to have a **** to watch them bleed and fall And won’t it be a tragedy if no one cares read, these nets we cast before ourselves like pornstars spreading seed

Don’t presume to think that they love you, because the truth is that they don’t.
Nor should you ponder whether they’ll want you, because the truth is that they won’t.
They tried to warn you ahead of time, they were trying to save you the trouble.
Apparently they saw your future, just your dreams in ashes and rubble.
You didn’t listen, you held on to hope thinking it was at least worth a try.
Now you drink, you smoke, and you curse. Because you believed your own lie.

Don’t presume to think that they love you, because the truth is that they don’t.
Nor should you ponder whether they’ll want you, because the truth is that they won’t.
They tried to warn you ahead of time, they were trying to save you the trouble.
Apparently they saw your future, just your dreams in ash and rubble.
You didn’t listen, you held on to hope to think it was at least worth a try.
Now you drink, you smoke, and curse. Because you believed in your own lie.

There might come a time when you think of me
If so, put the sun to my back.
Can you see me?
Am I smiling?
Just remember, it’s probably because I’m there with you.
Reveling in the moment.
You meant so much to me,
I hope you knew that.
I’m just going to leave you with this lil message.

I miss you too.

I don't know about you.
But I've had enough of me today.
I'm going to go stand in the rain and laugh myself to sleep.

I don't know about you.
But I've had enough of me today.
I'm going to go stand in the rain and laugh myself to sleep.

Imagine you have a marble collection.
Spherical objects of varying sizes and colors.
Now imagine everyone has a collection of marbles.
Every single individual on the planet,
has a collection of marbles.
These marbles are your thoughts, feelings, and ideas.
The object of life, the fabric which binds us all.
Is the idea that we cast our marbles in the table.
We share them.
Albeit selectively.
We throw our marbles,
not all at once mind you,
on the table.
We show ourselves to others.
Sharing our perspectives
and ideas.
We observe and recognize
other marbles.
I exist through you,
and you exits through me.
In turn we are able
to see ourselves
for who we truly are.
Any resistance to this idea,
as safe as it may seem,
only serves to weaken the whole.

My mind misses you
It’s unhappy with my decision to leave you
It has no nerve endings of its own
So it’s trying to turn my heart inside out
That’s why I know it’s angry with me
And the fact that it has now turned you into a specter
You’re giving me that look
That “you’re being ridiculous” look
I see it every time I close my eyes
Something else my mind is good at
Imagery
So no
I’m not going to forget you
And for that reason, I’ll probably still love you
Long after you think I hate you
You’ll still be here
On my mind
Giving me that look

I had a dream come true
It was as soft as the sky is blue
This dream I had come true
Started when I met you

We could say we’re here and there when we are not together.
On each other's minds regardless of the whether.
We should be side by side or a thousand miles apart.
If ever I should need you, I need only touch my heart.

I can’t reach for you
It hurts to think about the last time I reached for someone
That should bring you comfort
To know that should you ever reach for me
My hands are empty

I remember the moss. It looked like a worn out dried up mop. Silhouetted against the moon in a puddle of rainwater in the parking lot. I wandered the celestial remnants of history. Running my fingers through starlight just to feel the photons slip over my palm. I thought about those times, the people, and the places. Bytes upon bytes of useless data. I understood in that moment. As the smell of raspberries filled the room. That I alone can't even determine my own significance to the universe. Whether or not I served a purpose will forever be a mystery to me.
I thought of you. I didn't smile.
Then the timer went off on my toaster and my pop tarts were ready.
Oh well.

An amber moon painted against a silken sky in hues of blue
She sighs out of relief as her maiden steps out into the light
The southerly wind bides it’s time, knowing just where to find her

The same place I find her. The maiden. Between a thought and a dream.
The steam from a cup of tea floats up like a specter
And reminds me of her.
How it is she moves.
Between a thought and a dream.

The maiden looks upon the moon and smiles.
As if acknowledging an old friend.
She rests herself in the grace of its light and embraces it without gesture.
Just in spirit.
They have a mutual understanding of what it means to be alone.

A book lies before me on the small table in front of the tea shop.
Odysseus and Penelope.
I wonder if she’s read it.
Or would she let me read it to her.

She takes three flowers from her garden and nods to the moon.
Before retreating back into her home.
Across the street from where I sit.
Every Friday night.
At the No. 13 Tea Shop.

My days and nights fold over one another, going unnoticed.
I do not suffer any day save Friday. Wherein I’ll find her again.
Across the street from the No. 13 Tea Shop.
Right about the time my tea is placed before me by a man with seemingly no tongue.
Because he never speaks to me.

I’ve watched Odysseus slay the cyclops a hundred times.
From my chair, before the ghosts that spring from my tea.
And again she steps outside her home. Rinsing off the day in the light of the moon.

I’d longed to approach her. To tell her of the feelings that stir within.
Just at the sight of her.
To tell her a joke so that I may hear that laugh of hers.
I’d heard it once before.
While she watched the stars play amongst the grass in the park.
Where I first saw her.

Since then. A hundred cups of tea later. I sat here still.
As if I were watching a doe in the wood.
Hesitant to move to suddenly.
For fear that she’d somehow escape my dream.

Finally I’d decided that I’d haunt her no more.
That I’d cease my foolish endeavors in trying to muster the courage to speak to her.
I begrudgingly withdrew myself from my favorite chair.
Heeding the chance to see her one last time. To bless my soul with the knowledge that she still exist.
I’d resign her to being just a dream.

For how would I approach her in anyway.
To tell her that she is ether for my heart.
Alas, I should let this lion of a moment sleep.
To stir it couldn’t possibly bode well for I or my heart.
Someone as wondrous as her has only to be visiting. For I do not see how heaven could function without her.

I approached the shop keeper to settle my tab. He silently refused my payment for the tea.
I insisted that the tea be paid for.
His smile, seemingly etched onto his face only grew.
“Your tea has been paid for, as has every tea of yours for the next month.”
“You owe me nought, why would you do this?” I replied.
“I didn’t.”
He smiled once more at my confused expression.
Then he looked past me and motioned behind me.
There she stood. At the top of her steps.
“Seems someone has decided they don’t want you to go.” He said.

Just by coincidence.
On the day I’d finally decided that my courage had failed me.
She lifted my weary soul.
In front of the No. 13 tea shop.

Should I write another batch of words
to appease and placate your ego?
Or should I write about us, when, and
those places we would go?

Honestly my hands grow tired,
they're simply losing steam.
They're starting to wonder if you're real
or are you just another bad dream.

Forlorn emerald eyes gaze out,
over fields in crimson hues.
Skin of buttercream frosting,
and a heart that sings the blues.

Wherein would I have found you,
if not I needed a drink.
Probably somewhere in the back of my mind,
where I go to think.

If I were to expect anyone to miss me as much as I'll miss me.
I can expect no mourners.

Here's a something y'all should know.
About women in general.
When they garner you a piece of their heart or the whole thing.
It's a precious item.
It is not to be handled like a ****** forty.
You don't put it in a bag and use it to quench your thirst for attention.
You cradle that ****.
You keep it safe, warm, and dry.
Make sure it doesn't want for anything.
Don't be an *** and take it for granted.
It's not guaranteed to be yours forever.
She can and she will take it back.
Point is my slack jawed friend.
Whether she's a friend, a lover, a relative, what have you.
Be gentle with that thing.
Even if you don't want it.
Take care not to damage it.
Someone else might want it one day and they don't need you ******* it up.

I hope I'm chosen for Elysium,
though I doubt Cronos will have me.
I could wander the fields, drink my wine, and dream as if I held thee.

I don't need to be here.
If you want to know me.
Just go read everything I've ever written.
You'll figure out who I was.
Eventually.

Don't bother reading between the lines.
I'm not there.
I'm staring into the sun.
Between the "I" and the .
I'm resting.

So you want to skin a rattler
Don’t worry I know how
Don’t ask me how I know
Just go get me a towel

First Ned Stark the head
Just throw it in the fire
Do the same with the rattle
Except spare it from the pyre

Now rinse off the body
Soap and water’s fine
Make sure to rinse off all the soap
Don’t leave that **** behind

Now get yourself a razor
Slice that ****** neck to tail
Center down the belly
Careful not to flail

Now pull the skin back from the top
Evenly with both hands
Be careful not to tear it
Or your piece won’t be so grand

Once you have removed the skin
Tack it to a board
Inside up and salt that ****
Those ants will come to board

Now when the hyde is dry
While in your muderous glow
Put the **** up on the wall
And pretend that you’re Rambo

The moonlight creeps through my garden like a white tiger on the hunt.
It caresses the bench where you used to sit.
Come morning these trees will burst into flames of crimson, sunflower, and oranges.
I’d like to be able to imagine you there and when.
Add it to the list of things I’d like.

So then I told her I toss off dolphins as part of my charity work.
She talked about her ex, the pastor, and I said that he’s a ****.
Her sweaty calloused hands then seized upon my thigh.
I know it’s called vitiligo but her face just looked like rye.
The night was going swimmingly so I ordered another drink.
I put it on her tab again and asked about her kink.
She said she’d like to have dumpster *** and probably get chinese.
I scattered soiled diapers down so she wouldn’t hurt her knees.
We ordered teriyaki sticks and I think she got chow mein.
I took a cab and let her walk as she said she liked the rain.
Back at her apartment she was over thirty minutes late.
I said she owed me **** and there would be no more debate.
Well I didn’t like the **** and I probably wasn’t very clear.
So that’s why I’m in the hospital, now tell me why are you in here.

In line with the whole
“life is naught but a computer simulation, the matrix is real, there is no spoon” theory.
How do I know that , while I am not special in any meaningful way, I’m not a flawed line of code and you are a patch formulated to correct my supposed flaw in order to support the overall functionability of the software needed to run this particular aspect of the matrix?
So based on this revelation, your sky blue nail polish, and the fact I’m 90% sure I banged your mom in the mop closet of an Arby’s while huffing ammonia fumes. I don’t think we should get married, today.

Over the devil I don't know.
I'll keep with the devil I do know.
The devil I know is me.