You know when you see someone you miss
someone lovely there is no hope with
Some heart with strings and such
that always keeps you held tight
winched with what not and such
maybe id be happier with
Some lovely hand scrounging her way
betwixt my cotton strung nethers
Never mind an old spot in realistic fiction
I remember the cigarette smoke.
And i was happy to oblige
with the repentance
a hand and a sentence
******* read with a mouth to trace
while your own words form
like honey from your lips.

Im sorry,
I never meant to say those words
I meant to say *******.
Every time I apologized
I always wanted to say
go **** yourself.
I changed them out
to make you feel like something special
but i forsook my own being
I forgot to be me and
left building blocks to our own death
and now they crumble.

Im a devil with a bad title
long words and broken
like conjunctives or
the old sayings
barking up the wrong tree
And with nothing
At its top
Where do you find fruit
Juicy enough to delight in
No skyline to admire
Just less tree to climb
And lost words in the fray

Sometimes i feel a bit better letting some English out.
like blood letting for the soul
I forget the happiness sometimes
its empty.
which
nothingness does feel great
I find poetry
enraging.
Its hard to imagine a more tumultuous art
everything is meaningless...
but meaning means so much.

I really wanted to make
something
beautiful
you see.

I dream of poems
and windows blight
with all the songs
and all my might
i cant mistake
the words unsaid
and even though
with poems read
its world falls
and the towers too
for every turn
comes back to you
with spring comes
the falling rain
it is *******
to rhyme with pain
for pain doesnt seem
to know its words
and always takes flight
like callow birds
the summers seep
like forgotten tea
wax and wane
like spring seas
and in my mind
a dream like state
i detest the rhyme
but that is my fate