Sold!
This one's teeth are bad,
I'll take her for a hundred.
Bruises?
This just won't do,
maybe the Russians will want her.
Look at this one,
porcelain skin,
green eyes,
emeralds,
hair that captures the essence of obsidian,
nails painted,
like the mask of her face,
though she doesn't need it,
is she worth enough?
One million?
Two?
I think she is priceless,
but they only see her as an asset,
permanent property,
something to control.
No rights,
beauty to belittle,
to take to their room,
tie her up and make her scream,
for your own sick pleasure.
She takes it,
not because she has to,
but because it is all she has ever known,
but to me,
she's a scarcity,
something to love,
something to cherish,
my princess.

Part from the beaten path,
free myself from this cheating wrath,
stand up out of this bleeding bath.
If I can change I can repeat,
I can change the plan of these tiring feet.
I want to look in the mirror and smile,
not have my problems end up at trial.
Part of me believes it will never be true,
I look at myself like there's a me and there's a you.
There is merely a ghost in this machine.

I
wanna
love a reader-
Probably
because I'm a writer?
Or
maybe
because
the silence
that a person spends
with themselves
to sit down
and learn something new
is super **** to me.

There ain't nothing
like an old fashion piece
of literature-
something that can
paint
your imagination
a thousand
different colors
by the power of a few words.

What's more
beautiful
than a writer
loving
a
reader?

A
reader
loving
a
writer...
while leaving
the inspiration
for new thoughts.

Dear all of the above,

Why do you ridicule me so?
Severity, Severity, more than you’d ever know
The extent of beauty I see in the world
Perplexed by the forbiddance you administered, hurl!
Why me? Why someone who has been doing nothing
but describing beauty his whole life? Irony
Why me?

The supreme experimenter
The great accursed
Anonymous
Sad clown
Sad clown

Why me?
A Poet.

One specifically who followed in the footsteps of Poe
not through choice or influence
but because life chose a similar path for me
Dear life,
Dear nature,
Dear conscious, subconscious, unconscious,
Dear collective conscience,

Dear existence,
Dear heavens,
Dear spiritual realm,
Dear all that is and isn’t,
Dear all that can be seen, and cannot…

Dear knowledge,
Dear intellect,
Dear intuition,
Dear emotion,
Dear regret,
Dear regret,
Dear regret…

******* CIRCUMSTANCE!
CHANGE **** YOU!
For the love of everything pure.

Please
Please
Please

I’m sorry
I’m so sorry
I’m SO *******
sorry…

If I could just go back
If I could just…

Please...
It’s funny how it rhymes

Samir… Severe
Please no.
This isn't real.
Please?...

If this message somehow gets to you
and/or applies to you whomever you may be
whatever you may be going through
assuming you are someone who understands that there is nothing
"people like us" can do about it
because the things that trigger this cause
are the things that we can no longer have a hand in changing.

or maybe we just want to be left alone about it...
not literally... i find the usage of this expression to be ironic.
or maybe we are impossible... yea impossible for you to define?
understand?... accept?

and you simply do not like that you cannot understand the method of this madness
rather than ask... you channel all your energies towards trying to get it out of me
well.. here I am again revealing to you the fascinating wonders of what makes me-

it seems lately that I, like you, just more-so...
have been getting a lot of attention lately as to my

"wanting to die"

look at it...
just look.
...

this feedback is first and foremost... unwarranted
It is not simply that I "want to die"
I don't know if I believe in such a thing
I have thought about it before
once or twice...
daily...
hmm...
Is it peculiar that I find this so unnerving?
so... ordinary?...

anyways,
let me reassure you it is quite the contrary
you see I am drowning in a cluster-**** of swallowing misconceptions...
for some reason people get the wrong idea...
and this has an enveloping effect...
a drastic one

It is not that "I want to die"
It is that I want to start living.
for once,

without thinking about it.
but maybe,

just maybe,
I'm the one who just doesn't get it...

when you give people what they are actually looking for
instead of what they're used to...

We are absurd
You and I
Fragments
 
We have created a fermentative reality,
Where words are symbols of relation
That you and I falsify
 
And Bingo was his name-o!
 
Ah!
 
Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon
 
What do you mean?
And how shall we bargain?
 
And mora is but a half step to a whole
 
Eek gad!
 
January Febuary March and April
May I introduce you to June and July
August, Sept Oct Nov Dec
 
Randomly systemized organs organized
Abstract or… dissonant?
But who is in charge?
 
12345
12345678
12345
12345678
 
12344
12344556
12344
12­344556
 
“Why so serious?” said The Riddler
Mellow dramatic
Melodrama
Melancholy
 
 
Pantomimes!
Pantomimes EVERYWHERE!
They are able to speak
But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?”
 
Together we fall!
United I stand.
 
Backwards
Upside down
Inside out
And grammar
 
What’s in a name?
Please don’t be lame
Sarcastic and the glamour
 
Synonymous nonsense
Homophones and nyms
Where are the polysemes?
In the antonyms
In the antonyms!
 
Repitition
Exclamation
Annunciation
tions…
 
verbage verbage verbage
syllables and such
meaningless meaning
defining definitions with such
 
True or False?
Hide and Seek
 
Ring around the rosy
We all fall down…
We all fall down.
 
Black hat, white shoes, and I’m red all over.
 
Salt
Sour
And bitter
And dill
And
And
And
And
And
And
Ampersand
 
Institutionalized poetry
But I am for rhythmic prose!
No, not you
Listen to the hue
that the colors protrude
red green blue
red green blue
 
Black is not a color
Chrome is my favorite
I will not believe otherwise
 
You are an alien.
I have divided by zero
Musical dissonance
*(asterisk)
A beautiful disaster
A shadow without its owner
Wild natured wilderness
And naturally a wildcard.
 
**** **** **** **** ****
Etcetera.

wait…
no I don’t
sad face (pout)
and this is my problem
happy face (smirk)

I can’t take anything seriously
so I take everything seriously
I mirror bipolarly
my mannerisms scholarly
polite
quite right
perhaps
the emoticon with one eye that’s bigger
B.P.D. Artistry
wait…

maybe I am him…

Smiley was a face without features.  We called her smiley in grammar school because that is what she appeared to be since the doctors had sewn her lips shut in a permanent smile criss crossed with thread so as to appear more human.  She was my best friend, and I the town crazy.  She was seen as an animal because she often imitated the likeness of a feline and she would often lick the back of her hand and catwalk as well as lounge like one sometimes.  She would try to meow but only the slightest mew would come out, the faintest high e.  She could still open her mouth slightly after all so as to breath.  I would often photograph her in various environments with artistically appropriate themes and her image would appear slightly more angelic with every picture.  With every strip of film, she became more and more endearing.  Her outer shell really was the polar opposite of what her heart encompassed.  Her face was as if a beautiful girl’s however it was only the template before all the details were added.  She was a girl before her second face was put on in front of the vanity.  I loved her deeply.  She had not a clue, so caught up in herself and for good reason too.  I remained single and didn’t care for making it official or taking the next step because she was my best friend anyways and all we had was each other.  So for 10 years we grew old together.  10 years. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9-… just counting 10 seconds seems unbearable… but I enjoyed every second of the ten years as if it were melted butter clogging my arteries with their undeniable grasp on my taste buds.  Smiley was all I could ever want in a lady because she was unwanted by every other male.  She was a rose in glass casing, except that she too was made of glass.  
​So, I couldn’t take it anymore one day and so I staged for us to have a video shoot for an art video I was creating to go along with the song I had written about her several years back.  The guitar work had finally reached a level of mastery that I thought was appropriate for how much classical beauty I saw radiating from this girl’s unemotive face.  I called the song, “A blank canvas.”  I was actually part of this piece as well and so a cameraman was hired.  We went on a long crazy trip through the city on horse & carriage.  We went to a ball, danced and later on to a scenic restaurant overlooking the city and got some great shots of us holding each other on a transparent balcony and again with several different ice sculptures.  At the end of the video I finally mustered up the courage and with her eyes granting me permission in the way that only I would be able to recognize I took out my pocket knife… cut loose the thread… slowly pulled it through and finally unraveled her lips so as to kiss them for the first time in the rest of our lives together.

Would you prefer it if I called myself Master God?  
Would it please everyone if I called myself beautiful? Or would it come off as fake?  
Whatever, nevermind.  
I am zero. I do not count.  I am an omission.  Neglected.  Ignored. Alone.  
I have developed many a personality.  I have become everyone and everything and I am nearing ripe.  I call myself a *******…
Why? Because no one else would… I call myself a scumbag, a loser, a failure, a disgrace.  
Because no one would want that burden.  
I call myself Jesus.  
What confidence?  Keep wondering.  Deliberation hmm…
I call myself a ******* because why not?
If everyone called themselves a *******… we would all be the **** of the earth.
We would all be disgraces. The playing field will finally start at the bottom line.  
We would be **** in unison.  
We would **** embarrassment.
We would **** it.