They take her away from
Any thing they can
Just because they can
You want to take from her
And be an ******* to her
But Don't Take Her From Me!
You take from her and
Never give her a break
I love her and I want to see her
Now you are not just taking from her
You are taking from me
You take from her and it makes me hurt
But now you take from me
From both her and I
And I want to see you hurt

She has been taken away from me
For a day or two
But it feels like an eternity
And I don't know what to do

I fell in love with you
I fell in love with all of you
Your heart and soul
Yes your body is beautiful
But what is inside is gorgeous
I love you so much
I will do anything for you

i hope you see this.

i don't know what i would want you to feel if you did see this.

anger?

sadness?

pain?

would you even know it was for you?

look,
i don't want to dwell
on the unimportant details,
like who's fault it was,
or who left first.

maybe it was you,
maybe it was me,
maybe it was both of us.

i don't care much.

the important part is that you're gone.

i am gone.

we are gone.

i am not the person i once was, and i doubt you are the person you once were.

whether that's a good or bad thing,
i don't know.

what i do know is that everything is falling.

but whether it's falling into or out of place?

well,
i don't know that either.

(a.m.)

I've seen relatively normal people go insane,
and it makes me wonder when someone
or something is going to pull my ticket.

You're mean.
You're nasty.
That's why God put me on this Earth.

You're full of hate.
How can you live with yourself?
A question I ask twice a week,
maybe three times.

When the sky opens up
and rays of sun blanket the homeless
sleeping on park benches.
I feel nothing.

Putting a sea shell to my ear and
listening for the tsunami to crash down.

Yep,
pessimism did **** the cat.
Curiosity was just a cover up.

I'd like to think that
I am mean,
nasty,
and full of hate.

Standing up to the sun and
shouting out clouds.
Tomorrow will forgive my sins
and give me false hope.

The world will spin backwards
and tonight I will lose myself.
The clock doesn't stop the child from crying
and neither will I.

In a world that is warm,
I am mean, nasty, and full of hate.

Be mindful of the gap between
the stapler and tape dispenser.
That my boy,
is where evil breeds hate.

Bacteria waiting for the right moment.
A sickly blitzkrieg.

We are alive,
here in the office,
Looking for the next paid holiday.
One that will come too soon.

Forgive me for rambling,
it is what I do best.
Alone in my thoughts
and feeling like I am back home.
The road to ruin.

How can I help you today?
Oh,
I can't really do anything for you.
I do not care.

I respectfully request that you stop.
This poem will ruin your day.
I would feel bad.

Let's forget this ever happened and
get back to what we do best.
Staring into space and hoping it reverses.

Some men are so focused
on the act of ***
ridiculously eager to get into it
they forget to relish
the moments beforehand
and after
focused on the getting
more than the giving
Which is where
I would like to think I differ
I like to watch a woman after
as she lies there
in her lovely silhouette
glistening
gently quivering
breathing heavily
eyes closed
as if in some strange
*** coma
or spell
Sometimes a job well done
is in the confirmation
and reward
in itself
Or maybe it just makes me feel
I can look beyond
myself.

i can never really organize my thoughts,
so much to the point that
at one moment
i might be thinking that nothing could be worse
than it already is,
but at the next,
i might be admiring the beauty of life,
and how everything is grand,
and how i can almost see the sparkles that emerge from the stardust in your veins.

i can never really stick to one thing,
so much to the point that,
at one moment
i might be writing lines of poetry about veins brimming with stardust,
but at the next,
i may be considering what an utter cliché
that line is.

i can never really make up my mind,
so much to the point that,
at one moment
i might be intent on the idea that stardust as a whole
is a cliché, cliché, cliché,
but at the next,
i may not care at all.

who gives a ****?

it's not about what's cliché and what's not.

it's simply about the thoughts,
the words,
the beauty.

all at once.

but the problem with me is,
i can never really organize my thoughts,
so much to the point that
at one moment
i might be pouring my thoughts into this poem,
but at the next,
my mind might be frozen.
e m p t y .
bare.

sometimes my mind
doesn't like to cooperate.
but as of now,
it is.

and i've decided
that stardust
is a total cliché.

i do not doubt, though,
that it is one hell of a beautiful cliché,
perhaps much like my mind.

(a.m.)