His mother always told him to throw away broken toys
to make room for new ones
and maybe thats why they never keep me around
I've become an acrobat
balancing my self confidence on the tight rope of his words
It’s hard to walk when your legs are killing you.
My knees didn't always creek like this, I promise.
My smile didn't always come with a disclaimer

Failure's in your future
so sit down and wait
until it's delivered.

Let's ****** your dreams
and watch them plummet
straight into the dirt
and wait until they decompose
and cease to exist.

[breath]

You're nothing but a failure in the making.
Your insignificant accomplishments
have bloated your reality and
have opened the door to hope
that still manages to spill
throughout
your mind and
contaminate the truth.

[breath]

You still live in the same spot.
You haven't left. You've stayed in your own tiny city still
trying to impress the same type of people, but you didn't
expect them to leave so soon. See them move on while they
forget you and slowly your entire environment changed.

[breath]

We've dealt with your nonexistent career.
Should we move on to your love life? You fell in love over the
summer and after she left you, you became so bitter you couldn't let
go of her memory and decided to ruin her name to
everyone around you. Blowing it all out of proportions
just so you can look like a victim.

[breath]

So after becoming so involved in your made up reality you
decide to give up on everything around you. You disappear and
nothing holds value to you anymore. Then, you feel like you should
escape your reality and moving two thousand miles away seems
the only way to make you happy.

[breath]

Oh. But you found love again didn't you? You are on step one aren't you?
She's your inspiration right now isn't she?
She gives you hope and her beauty makes you happy.
The results of this imbecilic attempt leads to your heart
being ripped out of its rib cage and after being crushed by her
foot full of rejection you sit there and your insignificant
hope begins to evaporate.

[breath]

You lose focus and nothing can gain it back in time
for the most important week of your short life.
You fail as well and
while you struggle to find why
it is that this is occurring an idea
that I have planted begins to sprout.

You've considered it. You've agreed to it.
You can only look in my eyes as I smile.
Climb on the stool and focus your eyes on the ground.

[Expected your own thoughts to betray you and we triumphed]

Never did I regret killing your hope.
Place this necklace over your throat.
The material? I believe it's rope.
Let me tighten it for you.
[push].

[breath]

Elect, select and write it down!
Stare at it for 60 seconds, no more,
Then write the first thing that comes along!

It matters not if it is
Inferning or just churning,
Cold or hot,
Matters not to anyone
On this site,
Even if it is explicitly ***** (alriiiiiight!)

Hell, matters not
Even if it is absent from the
Dictionary's stock!

Matters not
If it is two or letters twelve,
**! **! **! reserved for Santa Claus,
Rambunctious, reserved for his Elves!

Put, pick a word and work it well,
In fact, give it hell!
Squeeze it, free it, and when you're done,
Just leave it the fk alone.

Milk it for all the silk
In it,
And if its only cotton,
Turn it in to cotton candy,
Which rhymes with dandy,
But I refuse to use that rhyme,
But thinking about using randy!

Put, walk, nay, run
That word, now single,
But soon to be married,
Upon whatever you write,
Chew it up and spit it out
After, but a solitary bite.

Taste it,
Run the  tongue's buds upon it,
Make it a flavorful word,
Then fool us with the saddest funeral dirge!

Vanilla passed away today,
The Chocolates, mourning, both,  dark and white,
By celebrating  and laughing long into the night...

This will not be the hardest poem I e're wrote,
But if there is no inspiration
For you to smote,
And armpits refuse to provide perspiration,
To source juices for a new creation,
Try this trick,
I promise you
No one will lick your ice cream cone,
Nor mistake you for Leonard Cohen,
But when you are done,
You will be High Priest of
Hello Poetry for the rest of the day!

99 cent wars, rooftops, Gibraltar Screaming "god bless the fabulous" Christs;

In the eyes of years
Man is king only over that which breathes,
So let's throw hugs in the air,
sit on flowers and vanish to Cook stones on the hips of Cleopatra
with all of December's left footed children

For through the cried ***** tears of furry German banana caskets,
Eternity awaits
In the failures of our greatest triumphs,

So let's dance

After all, Psychological Wednesday societies
Are only good for curing Xbox manifestos and Tuesday sanities

And if we died one day,
it sure won't be yesterday.