Bruised knuckles
and
broken hearts,
with the smell
of *****
in the back of the car.

For a second,
suspended by the beam
of a street lamp,
a snowflake
sputters to the ground.

I have envy
for the flower.
It blooms quietly,
blind to the world.

If only I could
emulate the flower.

There is something terrible welling from within me,
Sudden anxiety and hate!
What a concoction!
It drives me up the wall!
I am compelled to act,
And yet to act on what?
I wish to retaliate
But it is as if I'm grasping for the wind!
An invisible enemy!
No matter,
If this is punishment, I accept it wholeheartedly.

I only wish to live honestly,
No secrets! No lies!
If it is as though I am nothing
then so be it!
I am nothing!
If failure is the price for honesty,
Then I will covet failure above all else!
I do not want for a sense of happiness,
I want finality!
If you are done with me,
Then that is that!
I will be no more!
As the morning mist is to daybreak!

How can a man wake each day
And find his image in the mirror constantly disagreeable?
Surely, there is a limit,
Something must move him to action.
Even if I am regarded in disgust,
at least I can come to terms with that,
but I'd rather know than to struggle with self doubt.
I am willing to accept myself for who I am,
However there is no mirror to tell me what exactly is my worth.

You may ponder, "but oh, what does he mean?"
I am embroiled in inner conflict!
I wish only for release,
Let me be worth something or nothing,
In the long run it does not matter,
Just let me accept myself for who I am.

"One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail;
Rights by rights falter, strengths by strengths do fail."

My mind is made up.
For the first time in my life,
I will be aggressive.
I do not care about failure,
I am resolved to deal with it,
I just hope
it will be a private defeat.
Could I bear the humiliation
of both being
refuted
and known?

I am rarely satisfied
with the words that I choose
to express myself with.
In the end,
I settle for an approximation
of what I had wanted to say.
How often do I find myself
falling short
of a truly beautiful sentiment?

To say less
is more telling
of how I feel.
Oh, how life seems
so loosely constructed.
We never express ourselves honestly.
One must infer meaning
from shadows;
we understate ourselves
or even lie,
in hopes that in this
the truth can be understood.