Life is a lesson, of loves lived and lost.
Still, we insist upon running a race with no finish line.
Instead, when our speed is diminished,
We stop in place and collapse, letting the world race past.
But it seems, no matter how hard I try,
I can't stop running.
I want to stop with all my heart.
To be left behind to lay on the grass,
Jotting in my notebook.
Writing things that I know will never catch up.
Things that belong in a different time.
And when I am ready,
I'll resume running.
Everyone needs a break now and then.

I like pens that bleed
Ink that smears
Girls with scars
Broken parts
***** clothes
Stained sheets
The hint of blood
The taste of lust
The smells of love
Nights through morning
Mornings to night
Suns that sleep
Moons that dream
And all the pretty
You hide underneath
Those pretty
Pretty
Pretty things

The fog of forgotten memories
Blankets the cracking pavement
So nothing can be seen aside from yellow and white lines
and the bottoms of tires.
A slight drizzle begins to fall out of the clouds
But just as quickly as it started
the fog is receding
And the diluted colors of a vibrant city
pulse all around
Like a heartbeat from somewhere deep inside.
Muffled sounds of people come from somewhere,
come from everywhere.
Its almost as though its all a dream,
you can focus on one thing or nothing but not everything at once,
and everything seems too crazy to be real
But a pinch on the arm can be felt
And the dream doesn’t end.
Everything looks and sounds like its underwater
And the colors blend together until no colors exist at all.
The sounds get louder and everything is coming more into focus
And a symphony is playing
With the staccato of honking horns
And the shrill of constant chatter.
But its all hidden from the rest of the world,
the sensations fading as you cross the bridge away
And looking back, all that is seen is the fog and the road,
Making you wonder if you imagined it all in the first place.

Nevr thought
Nights would
Be filled
With constant pain
Scissors in my
Hands

I draw conclusions like a toddler
does a home - crude
rudimentary - scratches
Like that of the inside of a coffin -
It's dark in here, you know
Opposites attract I suppose
Probably get charged with battery
by the time I'm drained -
I'm never letting go -
Self sustaining - I'm -
Selling paintings - I
Can't afford to brush off the truth -
There is war, everywhere.