I’m always yelling at myself
For the things I took for granted
They said to save yourself
But I called them cowards
And threw it all ahead
Screaming, tomorrow will be better
Better
Much better
Every day that’s not today is destined for greatness
A steady decline in sadness
Until one day my tombstone will read
“EVERYTHING WAS BEAUTIFUL AND NOTHING HURT”
(That one’s Vonnegut, but I bet you knew that)

See, my flux capacitor’s broken
And I’ve been reading this **** backwards
I just want to go back

I used to be such a show off
Collecting my experiences just to line them up on shelves
Lists of proof of my own beauty
My bright future
Proof that I’ve been loved

Of all of my different selves
I like that one the least
But miss her the most

Now I try not to leave the house
And when my phone rings I get really anxious
Now I feel like I’m always fighting
But there’s nobody around
So I’m fighting with belt buckles and doorknobs
And I resent the people who make those things look easy
Now a part of me feels angry when my friends ask me out
They don’t understand
That’s not self pity
They’d understand if I told them
But that would require answering my phone
And I just can’t do that today

I know I’m being selfish
Self absorbed and petty
But my heart has finally ruptured
It couldn’t hold all of the empty promises I’ve filled it with
And I’m tired of fighting
Now all that my shelves hold
Are stacks of reasons why I want to go back to bed
And the only list I have
Is filled with concrete evidence
That tomorrow will not, in fact,
Be better
Not better
Because today is worse than yesterday

You make hearts feel not well
Tortuous glances send men to Hell
You're the muse of so many poems
Why don't you let us men alone!
Come on girl, please pick up the phone!

We men should ban together
Flee from all of this bad weather
You turned us into insomniacs  
We still love you, we're not brainiacs
Though, when you kissed our friend, we had heart attacks
Baby, forget these guys, please take ME back

I started this poem angry at you
Wanting to hurt your heart too
But you know I will always love you baby
Don't say yes, I'll be happy with maybe
Forget other guys, they're all crazy
They are mean, stupid, and lazy
Was angry at first, now things are hazy
You know I still love you baby

What? I'm a man. I'm weak! It's okay, just love me.

I read about your tricks constantly
Operating continuously
Going away without one last wave
Yet, your selfish heart is often saved

You haunt a poet in her dreams
You're a *******, or so it seems
Ignoring a loving gesture
Then thoughts of you start to fester

Why don't you treat these women right?
You always start a nasty fight
Why don't you love these kind women?
In their heads your often swimmin'

I love their poems you help to create
A poetic nut kicking is your fate
Mental games with women, a mortal sin
(NEW POEM) That S.O.B. did it again!

Hockey is fun to watch
Hockey is fun to play
Shoot the puck in the clutch
Bat the cold pucks away

Skate down the smooth white ice
Pass to a  free teammate
Time together is nice
Don't shoot the puck too late

Fans like to view hockey
Who is the best player?
Kids like Sidney Crosby
He's a goalie slayer

I am a child of the north and south.
I am a son of the east and west.
I am a ghost of the sky and sea
A mirrored reflection of sun and moon.
I am dirt and I am water.
I am nothing and I am everything.

All the things that we laughed about
And the plans that we made
I don't remember them at all
And it doesn't hurt

Your love will trickle down
Through all the things you love a little more
While I lie here on the ground
And beg the sky for rain

Every picture I draw
Is a picture of you
And the lines on your face
Are the lines on my face

It's not right
This last rite

But quiet now, It's starting

BANG
BANG
BANG

Let the sheep speak

On trial for his complacency, he tries to say
"I'm sorry"
"Everything I ever did, I only did halfway"

There was no mercy from the jury
After all, what good is kindness to dust?
He is no longer eligible for beginners luck

The trick isn't luck, it's sticking to your guns
But her gun is made of clay
And it's attached at the end of her leg

So now everywhere that she walked
And everything that she touched
Little holes were left
And filled up with dust