weather splinters in
      to fragments, repeating, like
          dense recollections of
what's already
    happened,
                 and
change dissolves indefinitely,
                      into all
streambeds, like        calcium
cycles              backwards out
               of my diet
these days and lately
         of course, being I, the mess,
am not
or ever
                     doing anything to fix this,
                                     and it's
               not like I don't need the
                sustenance, like
                                            all
warm               confusions
              you so graciously
                      endow upon my
                                    life.

if i was a bird
it would be as if i died
i would never return

my life
my soul
would be reborn

stuck in a prison
i was torn
freedom was out there

so my essence
they will morn

The best way to
End my pain
Is to cry too much
And drown in my tears.
I can't swim,
So that'll be the last struggle
That I'll ever have.

She takes his hand
not the whole thing
just the last *******
in  her  cradling fist

"she says something"
it doesn't matter

"He says something"
it matters even less

his fingers slide
through hers;
she grasps air

but she walks away
and he looks back

Oh disappointment dad, how you haven't changed.
You are still guttless and horribly deranged.
Faces have aged and we are all wise.
Disappointment dad, you cram yourself with empty lies.

Oh disappointment dad, you claim to work so hard.
Forgetting the world, you say you have becomed scarred.
But the ones who are scarred are the ones cleaning your mess.
Selfish and blind, your words of woe fill us with protest.

Oh disappointment dad, can't you listen to the world.
Your life is ever so more becoming twirled
I can leave through the door at any moment, and wouldn't care.
Oh disappointment, why don't you show me you still have a pair.

Excuses will only get you so far disappointment dad,
And truthfully less I see you, it makes me glad
Maybe one day you won't forget about me,
Maybe one day you'll chnage and be free.

However realism is my gifted teacher
And it has taught me about people like you; the preacher.
I can accept you'll always be singleminded
But Disappointment Dad; I refuse become blinded.

If you were going to **** yourself,
how would you go about it?
Lately I've been analyzing it
more than what I usually did,
I thought those thoughts were dead,
but they aren't, they simply left
for a bit of time, call it vacation,
and are back ready to mess around.
So many of the writers I admire
went through with it, suicide,
perhaps we share the same nature.
Someone once told me that suicide
was for cowards, I shook my head
and told him: No.
Do you hold the courage to end
your own life? On the contrary,
suicide is bravery to an extreme.
I'm not brave enough yet,
it's not death I fear,
it's the unknown
of what's to come
after the act's been done.
When you think about things
you notice our
insignificance.
Forgive me for saying so
but I'll probably go out with a bang.

Alone*
          **I watched the midnight fires
                   consume the madmen and liars.

it's sad and beautiful,
how the smoke flows
off of your cigarette
and into the sad summer night.

It's sad and beautiful,
how it just fades away.
No warning,
No reason,
Never asking to be excused.

but before you know it,
It's gone.
It's sad and beautiful,
The same as you left me.*

                                                    -Bd