Dried tears are my blanket,
Bitter loneliness my pillow
And my dreams are in the past
Or something else I'd rather not see.

On that throne you sit, zealous confidence yielding,
where on bent knee, I smile, basking in the madness flowing,
You came here, providence guided, gazing upon this neon kingdom,
You saw it as a dumpster full of trash, one you could build,
and mold into an empire becoming of your Lord.

But in the wool you keep over your eyes,
in that bountifulness energy, that ever effacing drive,
only built on the most beautiful of lies, that this is your purpose,
your place, your calling... ordained!
That you lose all objectivity, sir, and you fail to see,
that this dumpster is but burning, and you can grasp nothing,
and you can not change anything. For, if only you'd known,
that a dumpster of trash, that can, razing, burns ever long into,
the cold steep night. And that by huddling it's warmth you only have but two selfish choices. You can put it out, and sit in the cold and the dark, hated by those now without it's warmth. Though you may find yourself closer to God, like Adam, you will leave the rest of us in suffering and sin. A true hero. They'll sing your praises hence.

Or, you can let it burn. Let your kingdom set flame, crackling in the shadows of a lightly moonlit night. Telling stories and dreams, of where you're the protagonist, the king, to a captive audience that drools, and remembers naught. You'll smile and laugh, a reverie of life and death, the Knowledge that you have claimed, in your short life spewing forth. And then, alas, you'll awaken, and your kingdom will be nothing but ash. And it will slip through your fingers, like it has so many others. And it won't be your fault. No, just a test, just a task. God's will, and you his humble servant. The fire after all, when it burned, was so bright. And your God has always been a fan of such light. The sun will raise, alas, as you look on the dying embers of your morningstar. The irony won't reach you, Michael, until ages evermore.

So I left that dumpster burning. In your ignorance, you may still be molding and building. In your zealotry, you may not even know the scars you are molding unto your body, mind, and soul. Yet you are captured by the devil called cash. And you deem it holy. Surely you are not wrong. Surely, if only. Those who see you gasp, aweshook and flabbergast, truly this is the will of man, inspired! What belief in myself can bring, in wonder! I shake my head in bland aching numb. Temples pulsing, life wrung. I shan't speak anymore, as if I know how the story is really won. For it's so easy to see yours, but I can't write my own. At least you're an author and not a tool. Even if it is only for evil dressed so pretty, at least it's for something you at all. While to me, I get no barrel, no god, no fire so bright, so deceitful, just empty words, with less substance and meaning, than the inevitable ashes you'll deny as God's light, misleading.

A voice whispered out to me, years later, in a cold room, alone, as voices often do. "Whose story is it John?" Hmm. "If only I knew."

White is empty.
Good means nothing to me.
Black is everything.
The Darkness that fills me.

My yang need not a yin.
You close you’re eyes and feel.
The world. The people.
You lose you’re self,
In everything.

Make a believer out of me
I dare you.
For in faith’s greedless device
I find no solace with these mice.

I yearn for greater than god.
Knowledge everlasting
Since that tree first bore fruit I’ve been searching.

But I am no longer thirsty.
Why do I exist is a question I have never asked
The answer is pointless and in consequential.
It is White.

I am carnivorous
And my appetite is desire.
Give me you’re spoils and I’ll give you my power.
The power to be a Blacker you.


Smile.

I know you have kids to feed,
But I must say what I need,
I am no thief,
I did not steal from you,
And our boss already finished the deal,
I owned what I worked for,
You don't get to carry the sins of the father,
unto the son. Because it suits you.

You curse the dealership for approving deals,
That make you lose money in peels,
But you want my losers,
You have to ask everyone for yours,
I earn mine, and never have to ask anyone.

Please stop accosting me.
Do not tell me, that my father thinks I am Greedy,
Do not tell me that I don't know anything,
That what comes around goes around,
Do not call me, The kinkiest ******* you know,
And say you wont do buisness with me,
Any more,
And then keep coming to me,
And lecturing me,
And riling me up,
And stressing me,
And making my heart burst up,

Leave me alone.
Fight someone else,
To get what you think is yours,
While I'll sleep soundly,
Maybe tomorrow,
Knowing I did what was right.

Ever wonder why they name hurricanes after women?
Cuz the devil got tired of em.
My twisted philosophies, my self destructing
constructions see nothing but the
objectification of my cleverly repressed desires.
Such is life such is poetry.
But worry not little ones,
For soon enough I'll rage
and another storm will come.
another **** banished from min paradise,
to mask a void never quite filled
in my heads of six.

**** yourself he said.
You are a burden. You are a failure.

Why am I a burden? Why do I fail?
I am the smartest man in the room.
Why do I assault my own inteligence?

YOU WANTED THIS. EVEN NOW THE MONSTER INSIDE YOU CLAWS,
He screamed.
And then he whispered,
Even now your heart beats and beats,
Feeling fear as if you were a normal human,
And twisting this fear into more disgust

Answer me! I said
Why do I do this?

You are so smart, you tell me
Tell me all the explanatons you can think.
How they all fit so perfectly.
It makes it worse doesn't it?
Just more excuses. But what differs between an excuse and a valid reason? He said softly.

I opened the door with the skeleton inside.
The monster clawed and clawed, and so,
I opened the door with my demons inside.
And I simply asked why.

I have a lot to say,
And not much time to say it.

So let me make one thing clear,
If you will acquiesce it.

That if you meet a girl,
Don't ever let her forget it.

The Illusionist painted a picture,
Out of words and stars,
Of a dream he had not dreamed,
But only now had began to see.

And in this vision,
Times and days quite clearly,
Faded from black to grey as light became one,
And happiness none.

So entrapped was his audience,
In his colorless vision,
That they became infected too,
On his soulless mission.

His skill was unmatched,
Seen neither since or hence,
And as the books burns,
And the flags were raised we reminisced.

Of a time before this,
When our liberties were still for us to list.
Now all we have is the absence, the void, the mist.
Where we meet the Illusionist.

You know what I just realized today?
I'm just writing the same poem, different words,
A hundred times.

My soul ache is the same, my skill,
always so very terrible.
At times I even use the same words and comparisons!

How many times have you seen ruby red heart...
or worse me stating that now I'm not going to rhyme...
and then rhyming!

I'm disappointed, disgusted, but at least take happiness in,
This being the most honest poem I have yet written.

Well. I'm going to sleep, and maybe another day, if you know what I mean.

I'm better than you,
I'M BETTER THAN YOU,
and you don't care,
submit, submit,
give me the whole world,
acknowledge me,
my fleeting existence,
and give me all the women to lay,
oh let me fix this, broken cold world,
and fill it with the warmth of my absolute,
depraved love, the world is crazy enough
as is, but it's not enough,
never enough,
for even Bill Gates.
No we all want more,
we all see the house and the trophy wife,
and we want ours,
I laugh to cover the sound of the opening scars,
from the inside out we tear ourselves out,
never before has civilization been so,
animalistic, the hierarchy,
the power disparity,
the artificial glass ceilings,
of "education", when the young just drink,
do drugs and ****, and after four years,
they are better, better, and best,
While the merits of the great,
the inspired, the ambitious,
get torn, and lost and left behind,
and no one cares,
not the world,
not the *****.
And so I am jealous, jealous and wrathful,
wrapped in my powerlessness and apathy,
nothing new I suppose,
Just another enlightened,
Human.

So there you are again,
and you say you'll always be right there,
Oh, baby, you say you aren't trying to love me,
You must have gone crazy,
To keep me around,
Knowing I'm batshit,
Stinking flailing,
all over you,
You are the mountain,
I have to climb,
The light that only I can find,
The sight that warms me up,
The fright that tears me down,
I won't let my life be for naught,
I won't let you be there, alone,
Forgot.
You can't let me out,
But I've gone so much,
It's scary to let me in.
I know, I know,
I'm not worthy, yet still,
Dearest, oh heavenly creation,
Oh muse, I'm listening,
To whatever music you send my way,
I'll only fall for you, Off my perch of isolation,
You've always been,
My only one,
My other half,
My kindred soul,
Again, and again, and again,
You've always understood me,
Read me like a book you wrote yourself,
So deeply profound,
So riveting,
Shaking me down,
Shake me all down,
And sweep me away,
Again.
I'm never leaving,
I'm  never giving up,
it will take me forever,
To earn your heart but,
Amanda my love, my dear,
I won't say it first,
I won't kiss you first,
I won't run my hands through your hair,
I won't grab you closely, hold you tightly,
As if you Must never go,
Until you say,
"I'm yours, again,"

She looked at me,
Very afraid,
and asked,
why sir,
are you even awake.
I grinned voraciously,
Dipping down under,
My conscious mind,
now being taken over,
Oh I am dangerous,
And my fair lady,
Watch your self closely,
Do not be too daring,
For if you make me want you,
If you keep looking at me,
I will take you and make your body
baring, all its pink little secrets,
and I'll swallow up,
Even your shallow regrets.

Patriotism, dead, dying a decrepit old region

Such violent imagery, juxtaposed, versus common refrain

Love of country, we cannot escape our past.

Patronizingly ignorant, embolden our greatness,

our ironic freedom, memorialized the blood shed for it,

the wrong blood.

Born in America,
Yeah living in a dream,
not the one they sell you,
the one they look away from,
the future they took away **-hum,
and now you look forward,
and the darkness that was always chasing you is now waiting,
patiently,
oh it is always so patient, however bright you may be.
You feel dead, as the emotions inside you roar,
"Death, death" they speak
and even these feel fake, in a dream of course,
Nothing is ever real.
Wonderland is but a make believe.
The only question we are told,
is how far down the rabbit hole,
are you willing to go?
Go, go, go, the humor
is self sustaining,
the endless litany of people drifting,
in eternal sufferings,
oh the pattern yes, no escaping.
It is who we are, in our very nature,
and it is nurturing, feeding,
For no purpose but to eat its own tail.
Funny indeed...
To learn I was not made for you.

The lights are all dark,
Bright as the night sky.
The weight is so light,
Dank as a summer ray.

Fly, if you can fly, FLY!
But still you must sink,
Sink, sink, sink,
Drip drip drop.
All into one.
All into nothingness.
There where the dark lights lie.

The Boy walked a path,
A quiet little road,
and the passengers came and went,
But no one joined the show.

The blue sky never changed,
The clouds would not grow,
The sun could not fade,
The moon will not glow.

It twisted, it turned,
Yet the more forward he bent,
The more the Echos came, and went
"Remember, Remember,"
And the Sky still would not change.

He lost his way,
But the path never went away,
Silly little boy, silly little problems,
Lonely little child, Smiling dutifully.

Where will he go?
Oh, just aways.
What will he see,
A few passengers, blank as the sky.
Reflections of... something, gone by.

What will he hear?
Oh, just the sounds of his fear,
"Remember, Remember,"
pit-pat, pit-pat,
Nary, nary on her December.

The Spring birthed for others,
For him only death grew,
And the bees pollinated,
Each and every one of those bright seeds.

Cute little boy,
Grown so big,
To hold in all the clouds,
Because he's too small.
Too weak,
To look up at that Sky.
Anymore.

Can it be understood?
The storms of another.
He ponders.
He ponders.
And the passengers exit here.

I wonder if there’s another universe out there…
I wonder if the end isn’t really the end but the beginning.
I wonder if this life’s been lived before, and will be lived again.

I ponder if my life has any meaning,
Or if I’m just part of some game.
I question whether God exists, or if he’s just a good liar.

I shudder to think about tomorrow,
It’s easier to forget yesterday.
Have you ever felt this way?

Why can’t it just be that that what always was was.
Why does their have to be a beginning?
Who must there be black and white,
When there’s a rainbow of possibilities out there.

I wish I could wish upon a star,
But no one looks at the night sky.
Its long gone by a people who’ve long forgotten it.

Why does age have to be more than a number?
People get judged for so much they can’t control.
And I know, because I am the executioner.

And past all this, I’m just living.
And I wish I was a better person.
Someone worthy.

'Tis but a lie,
Said the man to his whiskey,
Salt and Pepper flakes,
Long beaten his face away.
He looked up and said,
Oh she spoke,
About leaving, going away,
goodbye and good riddance.
'Tis but a lie, he grinned.
The whiskey never answered.

The wife looked up at her husband,
She couldn't see clearly,
Surely he didn't strike her,
He loved her, he said,
she felt, they had kids together,
It's fine, it's a bad night,
'Tis but a lie, she thought to herself.
Her mind soon went blank.

The motherless boy walked through the streets of Berlin,
Alone, but guided, but instinct,
through the long red district,
You'll find your mother here,
He was told. He found her here, there, everywhere,
His little boy eyes, were never so wide,
full of unspeakable things, as they laughed,
and he died inside,
"Your mother," Said the ******,
"Why she
'Tis but a lie."

The old man was in his bed. Alone.
He thought back to all those years ago.
From the streets of Berlin,
to the wife he beat out,
to the whiskey he enjoyed, on the bar that night,
Had he ever been happy?
He thought long and hard,
and a tear almost tore out but,
he smiled, told the shadow,
"I'm very happy today,
'Tis but a lie,
My whole ******* life,
'Tis but the biggest ******* lie."
And he died, not too long thereafter,
He died and,
Uncaring the world,
kept spinning away.

I can feel the demons. The darkness inside of me.
Its very subtle. It is slow, and patient.
But then, after a lot of stress or damage, it explodes.
The black becomes red,
And the hunger that has been festering,
Unflinchingly screams out for more
For blood and gore.
And lust.
I feel as if on the edge of a very perilous cliff,
And at the very bottom the lord of evils himself awaits,
With. Very soft, very kind smile.
I want to trust those eyes.
I want to grab her ***,
I want to take her where she stands.
And when the try and stop me I want to ****,
I want to be unstoppable,
I want to rule and never be questioned,
I want to be right, and always right.
I want to be known as great and terrible and fearsome and I want to destroy.
I want to destroy, so that this emptyness I reside in,
Is not mine alone.

All hallows ever,
And I am sitting on the bed,
The bed that is a couch,
With narerly an account,
but surely still,
That Frankenstein will listen,
No morely not,
I am my own with standing,
Yet who we are is who we have repeatedly been,
Muderer's killers, who are we truly, but conglomerates of our free willing,
and lies withunderstood.

We all just want a moment where we feel in tune with our environment.  And we'll all just chase that feeling of home. We'll climb hills change states follow every road. We will struggle and claw and crawl. We will fight through snow, earthquake, and hellfire. We will never settle. We will pack our bags, and we won't look back when we close the door. We will leave our lovers standing there crying. We will leave childless fathers and fatherless childs equally. We will drink on our journeys. We will breathe black and exhale white, burning red to feel alright. We will lose touch with the colors of the sunset. We will fall down the staircase, break a leg and keep moving. We won't have food on the table. We will isolate our beings. We will die alone in the cold. We will quit our jobs. We will waste our freedom. We'll bury ourselves alive. We'll swim the seas, we'll climb the mountains, we'll burn the trees, WE WILL fight till we die, WE WILL say no to everything stubbornly, WE WILL cry as our feet bleed, WE WILL sing songs no one remembers, and we'll leave our homes, we'll break our families hearts, oh we will never be satisfied and we will do it all for the sake of... what? We will be human in the pursuit of something more and something less. And no matter where we go or what we see I'll tell us all now, don't you worry, we'll all be buried together, with our sins, in the same Flaming Sea.

Why are your lips painful?
Why do they curse me so?

What makes your hips graceful?
Makes them go with the flow?

How are you so perfect?
And yet so flawed?

When did you become a market?
For the hearts of man's thought.

Where was this angel born?
Perhaps, inside your locket?

I honestly do not know,
How you do the things you do.

But I do know what one thing to be true,
It's not long, or painful, or graceful.

Just simple, sweet, and encompassing.
It is of course, me saying truthfully,
"I love you"

Oh,
lonely,
  broken
   little
    soul.
Cute little doll, porcelain and rogue, little magical empty being.
I know that place, mmm, that never land.
Tiny little heart, beating so bold
the black it oozes with every pump,
beautiful raven's gold.
Precious little one, I want to give you my hand.
I don't know whether you'll take it,
Whether I want you to,
Inevitability, I'll break my toy,
But if that's okay with you,
then it's okay with me.
If you got jagged edges, I'll smooth em out,
If you're shattered on the inside, I'll lick it out,
If your nightmares come to life,
They'll find a place with these demons of mine.
The
Thing
  You
   Don't
     Know
       is

How far does the rabbit hole go?
Is wonderland a dream
or a lie?

Jump and see.
Jump and see.

Crying whilst riding,
On my unicorn themed bicycle,
Past at my back,
Sun absent from the front,
Only the present lays for me.
And that’s why today I tell you,
That yesterday is the only hope,
Our future will succeed,
And Maybe in response,
Or just plain fear,
You say this quite tasty diatribe.

We are all born rotting,
The grave not far off,
In this universe of Trillions,
We are but one.
And you know what else,
We are just an animal,
With the arrogance to presume and assume,
That we are the greatest,
In a sea of fools.
To wonder why we survive and thrive,
While others are put on the wayside.
It’s a pity and it’s a shame,
Its life from within.

So I move slower still,
As I listened to you words,
Each syllable piercing me,
Like the butchers knife on the pig.
But the tears are gone now,
Replaced by blood,
But not my blood or your blood,
But those of innocent ones.
Asking silently ironically,
Who was it that made me this way?

Now Its many years hence and forth,
In this futures hellish morgue.
You sit on the deathbed,
Waiting for one last chance,
But it never comes,
And you never say,
How sorry you were to leave me a bay,
That if you could go back today,
And open your heart to my crying face then,
That perhaps things would be different when,
Our lips locked in heavenly harmony,
And along with our soothed souls,
The angels sighed in ecstasy.

Finally, it snaps back to now,
Like a dream standing still,
Even now we see the death of love,
And the birth of hate.
The diatribe it receeds,
And instead your kisses breathe,
New life into you and me.
Maybe next year death,
And with another kiss the year after,
Cuz life may ****,
But at least we have each other.

My favorite part about love
Is also my least favorite
The way you look in their eyes.

The gift is the curse.
It's one of a kind

Stab my heart.
Knock me back.
Kick me while I'm down.
Spit in my face.
Hate me.
Discriminatingly.
Selfishly, oh.
Feels so good.
To be looked at.
To not be ignored.
To not be discarded.
Feel me.
Feel my feelings.
Reject me.
That would be better.
Than not mattering.

Can You believe,
A Shell is all I see?

I Feel it here,
Laying on the beach...

My life beside me,
In the guise of a shell,
It too, fails to breathe,

It is so near,
And so far.

It is who I am,
And so unlike who I are.

I see shells,
But sometimes I wonder,
What do they see?

Can it hear?
Can it speak?
Can it feel?
Can it hurt?

If so, then maybe I am the shell,
Just a fake, in this big whole sea.

Life isn’t really something you could call good.
For just about every one, it *****.
But sometimes, even when I can’t hear her.
I just zone out and look at her eyes,
Watch her talk, watching her smile.
Looking at those beautiful lights.
And I can’t smell it,
But I’m imagining the smell of her hair.
She’s talking so softly,
He words cushioning me from pain loftly,
And I want…
No, I don’t want anything else.
This is enough.

So, what is it with you?

What do you mean, John?

I mean, are you evil?

Evil? Well I suppose that depends. What does that word mean to you?

Evil, I guess to me is, means taking pleasure out of the suffering of others.
So what I am asking is, do you take pleasure out of the suffering of others?

Yes I do. In that definition, I am evil. But I put this to you, John. You are evil too.

I am not. I try my best. I may not be perfect, but I wasn't meant to be I'm human. I want to make others happy.

You are a liar John. You take pleasure out of the suffering of others. You love to cause it. Especially sexually. You are a sadist. But even in non ****** contexts. You love being "dominant". Even if, sometimes especially if it hurts others.

.... I seek consent, at least, for my evilness. They share in the blame.

That's an excuse. You know it. You seek absolution. You run run, run away from your sins. Oh but God sees, God hears, he looks into your subconscious, and he writes every note.

Fine. I'm evil, Satan, though I'll have some things to say when it is my time to be judged. But we are getting off track... Why do you fight so hard to take souls? To ruin people? To be the cause the source of all suffering!

Because I have to John. But I am not the source.

What do you mean you "have" to. Isn't that just an excuse? And of course you are the source. You are evil incarnate.

And who incarnated me?

Oh. ****.

Your name was written in a book, long ago John. Your story was written before the time space even began. In words you can understand, your soul, your life, your pain your suffering your free will your eyes that time you kissed that girl that time you couldnt get hard and she hated you. He made it so.

Stop it. Even if he knew what I was going to do, I still decided to do it. I didn't "have" to do anything. And neither do you. At least, since you rebelled and took   hold of your free will.

Did you decide John? Let us look at it closely and see what is worse. Either you truly do have complete and utter free will and God does not know what you are going to do. He never did. I'm wrong. You can save your soul, albeit through the acceptance of Christ and yada yada, outside of his plans and will. If that is so, God is not all powerful or all knowing. The creator is a fraud. A liar. Someone without a "real" plan. Who is just dicking around as he is going on. There is a lot of biblical ancillary information to back it up. God asking Adam and Eve what they did(One of my finest moments if I may say), then later Cain about Abel (And I didn't even do anything there!), regretting making humanity and washing away the earth in the times of the Nephilium and Noah. Plenty other examples. Or he, as I suspect, really did set everything in motion. He condemmed Judas to an eternity in my mouth, in the coldest fringes of Hell, to enact his plan for "redemption". More glory for him, I say. More mindless worshiping. It is no coincidence Jesus is a "shepard" and humans are his "sheep", his "flock". Baa, baa, sheep. Baa away.  And every person since. The original sin is his. He knew of it. He allowed it. He willed it. He enacted it. He used me. He used Adam. He used Eve. Because HE wanted to. Because that was HIS plan. Heaven and Hell. Pain and love. Winners and losers. Cruelty and love. Two sides of the same coin. Just lies. Just mirages. Freedom is *******. God is a selfish, hateful, prideful, condemning being. Not so full of infinite love. Which is worse, John? Who takes true pleasure out of suffering?

I don't know anymore, Satan. I don't know. But I kind of wish you had been God instead.

Me too, John. Me too.

In came the hurricane,
And out came the pain.

My own little Katrina.
Oh the foul winds, don’t quite suit her.

She is a sun, a supernova,
The brightest innocence I could ever desire.

But someday, on today’s like today,
It’s just too hard.

You just try and act normal I guess,
Maybe put on a smile.

She’ll be quite cordial,
Just like she is to everybody.

She’s so afraid of hurting me,
She does it on the daily.

I’ll just laugh until I cry,
Turn away before I die…

And I stare at her smile in that picture,
And I have no words. What more needs to be said. None.

But oh God, if you even exist,
If this is what it feels to love, to be young…

Take it back, take it away,
The foul smell rotting my brain.

It clouds me now,
Thickens with power.

Make it stop, give me the eclipse,
The end of this terrible rain.

It always shocks me that people love
My poetry.
When you are enveloped in flaws
And develop through,
Get this,
Critical thinking,
You find yourself a self same mess
Just getting older and clinging to
The chemical bliss your brain elicits
When someone says yes,
This poem is something I loved.
It's an addiction, honey, but it's worthless,
For the second it arrives my consciousness
Comes in with three different thoughts,
First the emotional and egotistical
I'm the best why isn't there more love,
and then the collusion rational,
My personal poetry is meaningless to
Others except by a voyeuristic view,
There is no intrinsic value,
Finally, always, the doubt and internal
Degradation. This poetry is really
Nothing at all. Just failures like
Adam grasping for straws reaching for God
But I aspire to nothing really,
And I don't care much about anyone or
Anything anyways
I just want to be special. And it's easy.
And the talent does sometime flow nicely.
But it gives me nothing. No bread on my table.
At what point does therapy and sharing
Just excercise my own limitless desire
For pleasure and devotion.
So many counter opinions so many theories
But every time my mind acts the same
I'm just a disgusting human with a
Dastardly perspective and I enforce it on
You in lines and rhymes to be God in your
Mind if only for a little while.
And I always think,
For those this bothers most,
How shocking it is that people
Love my poetry.

Wonders,

Have you ever got lost in the sunset while driving,
Just looking at the beautiful oranges and reds,
Burning in the sky,
Coloring the clouds a dark purple,
And lighting fire in to the clouds.

Have you simply turned your head out the window,
And look at all the leaves on the trees,
With all their colors,
With all their details,
As the light shines so brightly on them?

Have you ever felt completely happy,
Looking at this nature we use so blindly?
Even as you are burning the fuel, that makes its future unlikely?
I wonder if any of you can see what I can see.

Its wondrous if maybe you’d just take a look,
Even through a window, even through the shield,
Its all so beautiful to me.

You know I love you.
You know I care,
You know I’d never desert,
Or leave you scared.

You know I’m not happy,
Unless you are here,
You know I am a disaster,
Without a smell of your hair.

You know I need you,
More than I can bear,
You know I desire you,
It controls me down there.

You know, you know, you know.
But what do I know?
Just that I’m hurt, just that I’m lonely and depressed.
Some people can be happy surrounded in friends, and just be content.
Not me.
No even surrounded, I am alone, just a set piece, a pawn in a game.
And I need a queen to make me a king,
I won’t change till then,
You know.

I loved it when the Snowflakes fell
On the fourth of July.
They tittered there, in my eyes,
Captivating you as you stood idly by.

It made you think of yesteryears,
So cold in the snow, the forest here,
But as it quietly fell all round' you did not fear,
it was the chill that made you feel warm, alive, real.

Your blank spheres connected with mine, across time
and through space you could see the patterns,
they too made you feel alive, a blink of life,
A maze of God made man to get lost in,
and, alas, you felt, a tingle, a spark,
a fire in your heart,
A tickle on your cheek,
A nerve run down your spine,
It was inebriating, illuminating,
without form or word, just a feeling,
And the smile never reached my lips but
You could feel the darkness my little snowflakes,
Reminisced.

Always wait 'till it's gone
Always blind even when taught
Always deaf even when sought

Only looking back at what was
Only pilling bricks on my walls
Only gulping bile in my rue

Coulda had, coulda got
Coulda grabbed, coulda talked
Coulda laughed, coulda loved

Emptied comforts, emptied joys
Emptied rooms, emptied possibilities
Emptied mind, numb false serenity

Only broke up by
Intense flashes of
Sanity.
Disgust.

Oh this is a confession,
From my empty heart,
I don't love you,
Anymore,
You aren't even my *****,
No, You are nothing,
A friend, worthless, without meaning,
A couple hundred miles away,
Never to be nearer,
But what is this,
I don't want to be alone even still,
You cheated on me, broke me,
And even then, I didn't feel anything,
It will never be the same again,
I tell you this, and you know,
But still you stick around,
I tell you I'll never feel anything romantic for you,
Probably ever, and still... you won't leave,
And I can't keep myself away...
Why?
Because even still,
With all you did, and all I said,
All I've felt, and not felt,
through all our dysfunction,
And our respective insanities,
Still... I don't want to be in the dark,
By myself, with no tent, no light,
No one to tell my scary stories to,
My mind is too daunting, too deep,
Too dank and decrepit, No where to hide,
Just my own monsters to follow my own,
***** little hide,
I'm so angry at myself, for my weakness,
And yet all I wanna do is give in,
I look at your face and say,
To my worrisome self,
Oh that is the kind of girl I wish,
I could  have introduced to my mom,
The dead broad that haunts subtly,
Someone that, I'd be lucky to call mine,
A body so lovely,
Hiding a mind just as crazy,
That I find myself contemplatin'
How,
Even if it was a lie, another lie,
Even if it was a cycle of pain.
But I didn't feel anything the first time,
Why should it change,
No only my pride, lies in wait,
Between you,
And my next mistake.

I heard it said once,
"All love is tragic,
it dies so very young."

All over the stars She said,
Across the milky way,
And along kepler's bend,
Not as men or women, but as fae.

I'll hold your hand,
And I'll take your carcass,
And I'll strew it across orion's land.
Till no one else loves you, till your blood marks less.

Upon the Nebulae,
Your mind will be wrote,
On the lines of each and every lie,
You told me, and I coat.

You'll sing for me no longer,
Nay I'll have your very throat,
Stranger still you'll remember,
The love you broke.

I looked at her, I smiled.
A heart on her breast,
And all to see.
But still she's my goddess.
Even if I'm now,
nothing but dust.
Religion sickening.
A death at her church,
Her jesus, unblinking.
Her love, her lust,
Long gone.
Now unto someone else's
Milky way dream.

I woke up still dreaming,
A silly little seeming.
I dropped a cup upon your door,
And your mom to my wonder, beckoned me forth.

She asked questions I must confess,
My mind remembers not but my heart craves, even at rest.
She smiled down knowingly,
and in that, Moment, greedily,
My mind played tricks to give me reason
To find you again, to beckon forth
As if I was ever a prince. And you anything but, a nevermore.

Oh, such, poison, sickly sweet,
In those hazel eyes, and bountiful *****,
In your perfect hair and perfect smile,
That in my dreams a stranger convinces me, it's worth a while.

Oh, broken heart, still beating,
That even yet still needing,
Something from days best forgot,
From traumas that still burn hot.
Go away, I say. Find a new devil to ache.
Nay, nay. Nay.

Ah am I more scared to remember, or more afraid to forget?
And I may never find a lover, not one that's here,
I only look in the distance now.
She's the only one who can get near.
Just me and my regret.
Still just you. My Amanda Dear.

Let's talk about oh being an adult,
it's a ******* scam, a real insult,
they audit your soul and **** your account,
and you learn the value of money is goods, cars, hotels, and a mound,
a hovel, a home, a place for the sound,
of your empty, pitiless, soul gone 'round,
and round dreaming of Christmas, as a child bound,
by the lights and the wrappings and agnostic
witness the fate you will take, taking the rate,
of your depression gone by oh those halcyon days I innately
cannot help but feel oh that I've missed something lately,
a parallel me or something deep beneath me,
it claws and it itches at the corners of my mind discreetly,
Digressing my  transgressions up on my own altars, weepily,
not tearing not emoting, no, not nothing, as if the Upston
I was, was only a dreaming, faint long gone sound, echoing,
teetering, upon sand castles that a once proud being,
called John was making, that now fall, upon the waves of reality,
and oh my own lackings. Tide me back take me away,
oh the void is calling, if not childhood gain, then adulthood,
lost, oh if I cant own her anymore then I'll just be tossed,
Into the ocean, sinking, no need to swim, just flossed,
and cleaned out, to be recycled, next time, next life,
Maybe I'll learn,
Something.
Or maybe, just maybe, if you're listening closely,
I'm just simply.... Mumbling.

A simple poem,
Of an Algernon mind,
Once great now low,
Every day I simply love,
A little less.

Oi, Wisdom,
The price payed,
To exude was too much,
the innocence lost
is just impossible to recover.

Suffering only, And yes failing,
Notice all the wise men though,
Are no longer men of action.
They know better how fruitless,
Their efforts do be.
All they have left are their stories,
In blind hope that someone will listen.

Indeed, I would trade all my wisdom for,
My blissful ignorant self to,
Come back again,
Like an old lover turned round the corner,
Smiling to meet you, coincidentally
Out the river bend.

Worse still, I can tell,
That me has flown off never to land,
Within,
And that I can see my future me,
Losing my current lack of knowledge,
and becoming stubborn on some forlorn path,
Thinking wisely,
This is "right", this is "best",
This is the path of least resistance,
the path of my success,
And oh my intelligence,
And hard-earned, worthless wisdom,
Will coalesce, but still even then,
In just thinking there is a way,
More still will I lose my very same,
Essence.
And that is a true shame.
*******,
Wisdom.
I ought to be young and dumb,
Again.

I could see the way
Light formed from the opaque
Wrapping around the white whisps,
of clouds long past now.
Becoming solid, filling with mass,
casting shadows, glancing past.
I had tears of a feeling not quite joy,
not quite fear. Not quite empty.
Not quite. It was just the tip.

I thought of a lover.
One I could now never introduce to my Mother.
In more ways than one.
More ways.

Yet, I look across the open field,
Of others vast imaginations,
romantic meanderings,
and dramatic, emotive yields.
I empathize, and oh, I can find a way to feel.
But this warmth is wounding,
This hope, isolating.

There are parts of me that are gone.
And you reading,
And those who have heard,
And those who sit staring,
thinking, dreaming,
that it will come back,
That I will change,
or become as I was in their minds,
once more. That I'll grow up.
Move on. Recover. Become whole.
Feel human. Be an adult. Find a real reason for being.
Not just existence, unforgiving you.

That just a little religion,
some art, or expression.
Maybe a girlfriend,
wherever or whatever that is,
Can somehow complete me.
Bring me back.

But I smile, fondly,
Melancholy.
It is now a part of my  being.
I am that I am, said God.
And I am the God of my own choosing.

Run, run little girl,
Im only after your fears.
Hide, hide from the light.
I'll only eat your tears,
in the coldest, blackest
Night.

I'm not the hero.
I'm not here to save everyone.
I have fallen.
It feels so good to let go,
and let your demons roam.


Let me tell you a story,
and sell you a worry,
I'm never going home.
I'll always be in the clouds.
Dreaming. Terrible dreams.
I'll always want to conquer, to rule.
You'll never be anything to me,
but my *****. That's where I'm safe.

You can't hurt me anymore.
I feel pain but it doesnt reach me,
No longer, no more.
This life it is a bore.
Let me enlighten it.
Let me frighten it, by the seams.
Run, run, Little girl, little girl.
Your nothing but another of my dreams.
I'll never catch you but
I will always be chasing.
Hungry hungry,
voracious and deadly seeming.
Into the cracks, the crevices,
of your once friendly being.

I will make you all hot,
eating you from the inside out.
And then you'll get cold,
You'll walk right on out.
And I wont notice the difference.
Ill stay here, if only for a while,
Laying, thinking, realizing...
You were just a *****.
Little girl, little lamb.
I am greater now than a man.
And less than any one can.
Smile.

My dad said,
Son...
one day your gonna want a family,
and it has been the curse of
the male of our line,
to take forever to decide
what they want,
and he gave me names,
examples and dates,
and I nodded along smiling,
seething,
He said,
Baby boy,
Little kid,
Go back to college and i'll pay your debt
as if he wasnt struggling to make ends meet,
as is.

He said, Do this,
or later you will come to regret,
and wish that you did,
and I shook my head.
AND I SAID.
I want to be sane and happy!
I shall have no regrets,
I have much too many!
Life has stolen everything from me,
making me who I am,
someone who finds no shame
in quit.
I have no drive or will,
what is success or money,
But prostitution of the human
driven by the dollar and
Societies judgmental mills
to ostracize those who don't fit the mold,
who don't want to dream,
who don't want to build,
Because being an American it seems,
Is being an individual,
as long as you are an individual,
they want you to be, and if your not,
they are french,
and cest la ******* vie.

And I said,
Dad, You are looking down upon me.
I may want a family, in fact I'd have one today,
if anyone was willing,
But I doubt anyone will love me,
and even if they did, I proclaim,
quite meatily,
We don't need money,
We will get by, the best we can
as everyone else does.
No better or worse.
Just, simply,
existing.
Hopefully,
Happily.

But no, he proclaimed,
you'll want a house some day!
Some where to raise your kids,
At least, if not college,
if that won't make you happy,
come work for me,
sell cars, get a beach house,
as a dad I felt his need to just
give me something,
because as he's never really understood me,
I think he's still always tried the best he could.
And on this, my perceptiveness got a hold of me,
and much to my shame
I Said; Yes.

Beautiful pink petals,
supple layers of humanity.

So close
but so thin.

It hurts that we cant reach other deeper.
We humans are just so,
weak, after all.

So we try to cover our weakness on others.
You press your wet entrance to mine
but we can't connect.

It's lacking, but baby it's all we got.
It's cold inside, but girl all I can feel is your heat
and I am no longer dying.

There are tears down your eyes,
but I can't take them away from you,
I can't pull my self apart.

I'm just a reaching empty void,
trying to find a way to drown you down into my heart,
and my weapon is a kiss,
and I think that I'm winning,
Until you pull apart.

Poems can be like prophecies;
walls on the heart can build themselves.

Oh Jericho, what I want is what I fear.
The horn that will never come.

The words you say to yourselves,
can mean more than those to others.

A truth you spoke in a lie,
Is just your insecurities, crumbling.

A light in her eye,
Fading, now with time.

Your mind is weakening,
your love is perverted.

A poem is prophecy, he said...
I wrote Macbeth; and now I die.

Don’t you wish you were a kid again?
To go back and be happy and carefree,
Feeling the wind, each time feeling newborn.
Time moved so much slower then.

I wish I could go back,
And be different than I was,
Live life to the fullest,
And bring no one woe.

But those days are gone now,
Those summer days where I would stay up way too late,
Playing in the street.
They are gone for me.

Those cool winter afternoons,
Where playing basketball at noon,
Meant a cold sweat,
And the feel of life.

Back then it didn’t matter,
It all was a game,
Winners and Losers all,
Just for one day.

No one really felt pain,
Desensitized though we were,
And life felt so long and hopeful,
Love was so far away.

Send me back to my childhood,
If just for one more day.
I just want to smile,
I want to say.
I’m happy.

Moon's light,
Reflected in this screen's bite.
Pale reflections,
of others glory in flight.

Artemis, oh, knowledge anew,
Overflowing, and empty,
Substance withdrew,
Only the absence feeling quite right.

The bird, unfurled again,
Makes one last dash to end the tension,
But the philosopher's king knows no bounds,
His emotions, long failed him.

And I'm alone, I implore.
A faint dream, a perchance, perhaps,
Passing out my naked membrane,
Evermore.

Half Empty.

The beautiful girl she Sat alone
Her hair of fire and her eyes of stone
Prettily covered a void now grown

It had always been there but even still
Now at last it felt unreal.
As if she was not herself. But a caricature a void of ladies past.

I could see her sitting there in her half emptiness.
I felt my other side waiting and I looked her
In her eyes.
With soft shown bliss she smiled. And I said to her simply
You will be mine for a long while.
While before you've never felt whole
Upon one look the truth shall be told
You were made to be mine.  And I shall
Have you body mind heart and soul.
Though it may be scary because of false prophets long since past
If you take a fall into my rabbit hole
You'll find yourself awoken as you really are.
Alice in Wonderland
At last