I have a dear friend
for some time:
her name is
Understanding.

Today she told me
it's time to enter
her inner sanctum.
I was anxious,
humbled, awe-filled.

At the doors
of her Cathedral
of Wisdom
I hesitated.

It was daunting,
the mystery, fear
of the unknown
overpowering me.  

An internal
struggle of whether
it might just be much
safer to remain in the
life to which I’m so
accustomed than
risk it all by having
certain comfortable
illusions dispensed with.

Understanding told me
that enter the temple I must,
because loving her is trust,
making  the decision inevitable.

TOBIAS

I'm lyrical
Vocabulary wreck varies
Some words twisted meanings
I ate the cherry

Spit out disease
With these words I'll thrive

Not to be the best
To be noticed

To protest
Express
Dreams into reality

From underground
Love hates war days

To waking life up
To the end of days

Until my last breath
Until I can breathe

In this moment of time
On my music you'll feed

In this mind you'll find my days were restless
Lyrically inclined ecliptic miracles it's nothingness

To the hearts ear
You want them to hear
Shhhhhhhhh

I remember the evening
that we sat clinging
to paper cups
of coffee gone cold

over secrets spilled and memories told
two bodies cursed
with hearts grown old

behind your eyes
I found new worlds
A winding road stretched out for miles
to a small cafe at the end of the isle

Sweet pastries filled the mouths
of those who sat beside us
and stayed for a while.

How the hours went by,
people just passing through
The descending sun ending
a forever with you.

A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
I wanted to say,
lock yourself in a room,
scream until you have
a poem and no voice.
Open your veins and bleed
until you know that your bones
are pure words and sorrow.
Act as if you slit your own throat
and all you can bleed
are your own regrets
and all of the darkness
you boxed up for inspiration.
Write your mom a letter,
tell her you're leaving
and you won't be back for awhile
Because being a writer is traveling
through all seven layers of Hell
and denying anything is wrong.
Forget loving yourself
when all you have is a pen and paper
fused to your wrist
and Jesus is tapping at your skull
saying turn back now.
Warn the neighbors that if they smell burning
It's just your soul
clawing at the front door trying to get in.
Learn how to be alone.
Learn how to lose everything you have
in order to feel release,
learn how to only feel deceased
from now on.
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
All I said was
don't

She's a strong
Cup of black coffee
In a world
That's drunk
On cheap wine
And fake love

We played tag and I was it. I was chasing after your whim. I ran and I sprinted behind you tho i knew my chances were slim as you were too busy running after him.