I do it because i have nothing else driving me. The pursuit of something unobtainable at least with this limited perceptual borders only traversersed with the ambitious grunt work of satifaction that leaves you panting like a dehydrated stray. The only thing i have that pushes me forward in a frenzy of info-lust lingering day to day. Save it up, spit it out. But why, ah **** why ive settled into who i am and thered no turning back. Ive seen ends as beginning and vice versa realities spinning from the center of humanity out, nautilus nature of all. Mathmatics and mind, and why...

Whether
you
believe it or not,
I
loved you
so.
You
were
the one
I never
got
to have,
to be
mine.

It's ******* humid again outside.
The sweat is dripping,
streaming down my back,
it feels like slippery ants,
powderpuff.
There was a time
when you couldn't wait
to ******* brine.
You'd rip my pants off,
delicately.
You had *****
bigger than most guys,
I loved them
swinging
between your milky thighs.
The gutteral sounds you made
told me you were sunk,
so smitten,
in a dream state.
And when
I tasted our elixir,
you became lost
in another dimension.
Do you hear my calling?
It's ******* humid again outside.
I want to swallow us
whole,
you beautiful holy child
with wicked
sienna eyes.

If I  could only get into your head
Not to control it, but to venture
What would I find, what would I see

Would I have to push away the cob webs
Would their be many unanswered questions
Would it be a safe journey

Would I find love or hate
Would I find pain or joy
Would I find hurt or happiness

How does one's mine actually turn
Does one push to the future or dwell in the past
Does one have an intelligent mind or is one labeled

The are two main types of personalities
Extroverts who are outspoken,
Introverts who are not.

Each has their pro's and con's
What's inside of your head

When I turned sixteen, I brought a girl home drunk and stumbling
A day later, I was interviewed by the government criminal investigation
Two months later, she was disowned by her parents
Last I heard, she's at a rehab in Florida

It's been a long time since I've seen her.

When I was fourteen, I hid cigarettes in my backpack, and lighters in my wallet
Used to sit in the middle of a basketball court and watch my stress float away in a noxious grey cloud
I stashed my twelve dollar pack of coors in a bush behind the half-wall

It's been a long time since I've seen those.

I was thirteen when I found a papercutter in the drawer of the art room.
Took it home with me, fell asleep to the sound of it scathing in and out of its sheath
I once got so frustrated I wanted to slice my throat with it
I threw it out the window

It's been a long time since I've seen it.

When I was fifteen, I went out with friends and got wasted on chocolate liquor
Two weeks later, *****
the day after, tequila
and the week before, strawberry daiquiri
I don't remember much.

It's been a long time since I've done that.

When I was thirteen, I wrote poetry to sort out my emotions

It's been a long time since I've done that...

We rolled into bars
like we owned the joints,
everybody had their place,
then we'd fan out
like we were on patrol.
Everybody had each other's six
& we didn't give a ****
about anything.
We'd swarm like hornets
if there was trouble,
for in a moments notice
we could be called out
to ***** real violence.
And we were.
Not that Mickey Mouse
chicken **** kind
at your local nightclub,
but the explosive type
you watched on television
or read about
in the newspaper.