Dear World,
Why is money a shield?
-Unsigned

The gentlest eyes
I have ever seen
but also, I think,
a bit fierce,
like a baby tiger.
Such an exquisite,
elegant contradiction.

   ~mce

I don't understand it.
I try and I try, but it makes no sense.

All that I've heard
About love is the pain.
Nobody ever seems
To speak about the gain.

The only ones who care
To tell me the happy parts
Are the ones who have not
Yet experienced broken hearts.

So while others wait
For that one perfect mate.
I think I'd rather read
Than go on a date.

The voices inside my head are taking over.
These u-u-uncontrollable quirks I have.
My eyes twitch as many times as a heart beats after doing a triathlon.
In my head of runs a marathon of thoughts that don't belong,
things I can't do because they're wrong.
Within my blood stream flows 1.26 grams of dopamine given to me by doctors who don't know how to fix my situation,
only mix prescriptions to intensify vexation. Pharmacists eyeball me fearingly because I appear to be nothing but someone with chemicals wandering around into the little bit of a brain I have left.
Serotonin to regulate my mood, appetite, and sleep but I still only wish for all of this to be nothing but a dream.
All of this making my intestines mutilate, slowly dying inside as if I had Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Otherwise known as I.B.S. but I know for a fact that this is all just a bunch of B.S.
My enterochromaffin cells may just burst, I am often told.
If only I could tell what was real from what was fake.
For I also have A.D.H. - whoa! What's that?!
Sorry, where was I?
Oh. Tourettes Syndrome.
I guess I just twitch it off.
Maybe these are all figures of my imagination from the hallucinogens.
Who knows?
After all, I am a schizophrenic.

I know we aren't "meant to be"
we never were.
and still
I search for you in everyone I see.

I woke in the middle of the night
to take note of this poem that came to mind -
a poem of all the poems I've written
of love and demise
our ups and downs, the fall-outs,
the make up ***, the up-rise.

I look into your eyes and my heart melts. I hold your hand and the cares of the world fade away. I listen to you talk for hours about nothing at all and suffer an emptiness when I must be away from you. I see no imperfections for you have no flaws. I only see radiance and the gentleness of your soul. You have broken the worst of me and brought out the best in me. I am helpless before you as a tender tree in a summer storm. I only long to be with you and to hold you from now until times end. I have come to understand that I can never find another perfect love such as the one that I now have in my life.

Drip. Drip. Drip.
Rain is normally a tranquility.
Yet, today my insomnia is taking over me.
I close my eyes..
Drip. Drip. Drip..
Wide open again.
Torment
Another night of sleep taken from me.
I begin to slip back into sleep.
Drip.
Lighting up Jamaican incense.
Thinking about nothingness.  
I swear the rain is bringing out the affliction, bringing out the pain.
I stay awake thinking about you.
Wishing you could feel my pain.
Thoughts driving me insane.*
I can't sleep.
I love the rain, but tonight my insomnia is taking over me.
No longer able to sleep.
I run outside letting the rain drench all over me.
Oh how I love the rain.
Thank you again, Insomnia, my dear friend.

How strange it seems for one to see
at once all that they’re meant to be.

Unlike the man who wanted flee
by death. “To be or not to be?”

Perhaps now do I ask to thee:
How is it to live and to be?

Not to the immobilized tree,
that knows of nothing how to be;

Perhaps ask not the humble bee,
A bee is all it is to be.

Oh! Our knowledge is like a flee,
which is a tiny thing to be.

Or is it like the deep blue sea,
A vast blue strange odd thing to be?

The strangest thing: the stranger’s plea,
asking on if we are to be

more than this. Is the question key
to knowing what one is to be?

Oh let it be, I say to me.
What you will be, you are to be.