Only if I could sleep at night
and see the dreams like a normal person,
I'd start hating the nightmares.

The stars share tales with each other
as they sit around the fire
and they mention of the broken girl who
amazed the world with her smile.
Every one of them burns with envy  
for she shines the brightest in the sky.

They were kneeling in front of Him to ask for forgiveness.
He liked their prayers so much that He took them straight to heaven.

We are made of stars; you and me.
Stars that shined too bright
to exist together
or be near to each other.

We are made of stars
with different destinies
but once we were together
and that's what I like to believe.

Even on the last day
when the world will fall apart
and this whole universe won't sustain.
I have a  hope
though for a fraction of time
that I will meet you again.

Sometimes you have to take
a sip from the bowl
of sins
just to know **
bitter it tastes.

I wrap myself around
in this ***** bed sheet as I
try to be a part of
a perfect family picture.
This is how it goes  
every one taught me
that you're supposed to just smile
pretending to be happy.

some say we should keep personal remorse from the
poem,
stay abstract, and there is some reason in this,
but jezus;
twelve poems gone and I don't keep carbons and you have
my
paintings too, my best ones; its stifling:
are you trying to crush me out like the rest of them?
why didn't you take my money? they usually do
from the sleeping drunken pants sick in the corner.
next time take my left arm or a fifty
but not my poems:
I'm not Shakespeare
but sometime simply
there won't be any more, abstract or otherwise;
there'll always be mony and ****** and drunkards
down to the last bomb,
but as God said,
crossing his legs,
I see where I have made plenty of poets
but not so very much
poetry.