One more time
I thought of this
Shaking
Fully
Pulsating
Never known
My task
Searching
For the path
Which was
Like writings
On the sand
Taken away
by the Waves
True meaning
Of Life
Which was
Like a grape,
Jumping for
The fruit
Became
My dream

I want to write a poem
That will set you free from harm
I want to write a poem
That you can hold nicely in your arms
I want to write a poem
That has it's own personality
I want my poem to dance freely
On the edge of imagination and reality
I want it's softness to put you to sleep
I want it to hold you with it's warmth
I want it to entertain you with it's playfulness
I want it to be the readers friend

Five
Letters
Are
Not
Enough
Sometimes
Sorry
It's
Just
A
Word
Sometimes

The vibration
The pacing
The loving
The hating
The spending
Never ending
The thoughts they keep racing
The drinking
The drugging
The 5am clubbing
The meaningless sexing
The endless regretting
The lying
The cheating
The I hate this feeling
The panic
No sleeping
Anxiety streaming
The shaking
The fright
The continuous night
The struggle with words
I just want to be heard
The thoughts they're racing
The thoughts they're racing
The thoughts they're racing
Paranoia
Hallucinations
It's been weeks since I've slept
The walls seem to be screaming from the secrets they've kept
I'm over the edge
I've lost all control
This madness is driving me off of the road
But maybe down there I'll find some peace
All I really wanted
Was to go to sleep

My own advice must be lacking in something.
Will I in turn become defeated by my own dimise?
What doesn't break you makes you stronger.
Well maybe Im tired of being broken.
Hiding inside my head for now, let me know when you've found "an easy way out"

As a child, I have always had a sense of love towards the rain
Its smell, sound and feeling engraved inside my sole being
Yet a single drop and the streets are but streetlights and dull colored umbrellas
and I'd wonder, why are people so afraid of dark skies?
Until I realized, for humans, it is okay to stray away from those who need you most when the clouds above them are an ill colored grey
but if the sky above me has days where the sun can't be found
And it needs to cry,
Then it should
because most times my heart beats like thunder,
My veins look like lighting,
And it begins to pour rain
And so I've realized, if I were a form of nature
who pushes people away
I'd probably be a category 5 Hurricane
With a six page newspaper spread