Life -

absolutely everything
but white nothingness

the same word repeating
over with consciousness

a mix of new and old
real and other-worldly

a ticking clock of gold
heading towards eternity

full of empty promises and mistakes
waiting to be made

plump, sweet, moist cake
tempting and searched mad

giving possible anything
and taking everything

the most painful
the most terrifying
the most intense
the most deadly

but why do we continue this trap
if we know the horror it entails?

for the moments of pure happiness
for the thrill of the chase
for creating the unknown
for the endless giggles

everyone has their own reason,
some doesn’t even know that reason exists
and some do it for the wrong reason
yet here we are

until we aren’t.

Every day consists of
seconds and moments stitched together,
letters and ink endlessly connected,
steps and hurdles effortlessly taken,
connections and pathways formed into a web,
decisions and intentions made into actions,
thoughts molded into conversations,
tasks turned into passions.

Many remain unhappy
because of the way the world has
changed, demoralized, mutilated, twisted
how we approach these things that occur in a day;
now turned into a survival of the fittest,
skewed and bribed until there isn’t anyone left.

It all seems pretty silly
until you too are put in the ring
and expected to be torn to shreds;
there is no way you can come out unscathed,
and suddenly you find yourself with all the others.

I believe
in words and what they stand for
but not why they are used

I believe
in fire and the way it burns
but not the pain it causes

I believe
in love and how it feels
but not living without it

I believe
in hope and the way to trust it
but not in hope itself

I believe
in socks and how they cover feet
but not the heat they're suppose to provide

The art of a mountain climb,
so perfect and humbling
while losing all sense of time

One must **** early to be prime
surrounded by the bees bumbling
The art of a mountain climb.

The start is like eating a lime
Your tummy and mind crumbling
all while losing any sense of time.

Hands and body covered in grime
but there is room for little fumbling
the art of a mountain climb.

The view is worth no dime
after painful stumbling
to lost all sense of time

I will repeat it again like a rhyme
for the experience, life-encompassing
The art of a mountain climb
in order to lost a sense of time.

So many people enter and leave your life!
Hundreds of thousands of people!
You have to keep the door open so they can come in!
But it also means you have to let them go!

My life story is the story of everyone I've ever met.
But I still couldn't figure out what it all meant.
The more I found out, the less I understood.

Why I'm Not Where You Are?
Because I missed you even when I was with you.
That’s been my problem. I miss what I already have,
and I surround myself with things that are missing.

I hope you never think about anything as much as I think about you.

I tried the key in all the doors.
At the end of my search I wanted to be able to say:
I don't know how I could have tried harder.
All I could do was put my hand on the doorknob
maybe her hand was on the doorknob on the other side

Just because you're an atheist
that doesn't mean you wouldn't love
for things to have reasons for why they are.

I remember when feathers filled the small room.
Our laughter kept the feathers in the air.
I thought about birds.
Could they fly is there wasn't someone, somewhere, laughing?

I remember how she laughed enough to migrate an entire flock of birds.
That was how she said yes.
We talked about nothing in particular,
but it felt like we were talking about the most important things.

Sometimes I can hear my bones straining
under the weight of all the lives I'm not living.
I regret that it takes a life to learn how to live.
Why didn't I learn to treat everything like it was the last time.
My greatest regret was how much I believed in the future.

Today is a good day.
I have to make it decisive
or else it will ****,
and even if I do
there is a good chance it will ****.

I envy those who
are constantly joyful and giddy
because they don't ever know
the pain that accompanies
a cloud of acid rain.

I hate myself
for having to constantly
make that decision.
I hate being so malleable
and molded by the events around me
when I pretend to be unbreakable.

I hate that others don't
get the power
to own their emotions.

Today is a good day.

When I heard the learn’d astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

I want to scream
I want to beam

I want to try
I want to cry

I want to seem
I want to dream

I want to fly
I want to sigh

but I lie



because sometimes
I want to die.