With solemn eyes and long brown hair,
Her life is a slide of emotional care.
Yes's and No's, a bus in the air,
Lies and worries, no one dare.
To enter her life is to be drawn into her bare sliced up heart, and try to wear the lies on her sleeves...
She swore she would never do it again,
Ripped from the headlines,
Her best friend turned on her, and tried to pretend everything was alright in the end. It spiraled down, starting to bend, until she SNAPPED and the authorities would send her away and she cried herself to be... not crazy.
Upside down and inside out
You turned my heart
Round and about
Took it in, spit it out.
You killed me
And there's no doubt
I'm dead you see
I'm going home
Not alone
But going to a questionable home
Where no one knows
The real me.

I miss the way your fingertips
drew circles on my almond skin.
I miss wrapping your hair around
my finger like a phone cord
when I watched you sleep beside
me.

Now that I have your attention…

My issue’s not with the lost loves
but with the ones still holding on.
Because of you, pain is a cliché.
Human emotion has become
redundant. The only thing
that’s #depressing about
your life is how you’ve made
a conscious decision to relive
your “hells” constantly by making
them the focus of your poetry.

Stack and drop, paper clock
Stepping stones suspended nothing

Turn the page?
Rip it out.
flutter down, swaying, cavorting



Clusters naming what could be
words left unread
scattered, unread
Our own pages fall in different ways.



Different words and styles of writing
scatter telling different stories
eventually they start to merge
approaching ends from every angle



what a mess we've made
for thousands of years
we've let these pages fall.

Try to measure order but
We only get,

Where the words all intersect.



After a hundred thousand years our pages finally cross.
What you have written and let fall on the stories i've been taught
the paper loops and sways and settles where my eyes can see
And one word, Embraces mine:
"We"

I fell in love with you mind first,
Not your body.
But I must admit,
It's a very pretty sight.

In a gym in Philadelphia
Boys with street hungry eyes flick jabs at your moving brown form
In a circled ring of chance.Sweat hangs in the air like the sad
Truth of poverty.If they get pass you the sweet smell of success is guaranteed.For the scared don't get rich
You made good,born the ******* of misfortune
Dreaming of riding past the old neighborhood in a custom made car
Meeting beautiful long haired women with even white teeth
Maybe in your dreams you saw boxing gloved foes
Falling by the the score.But defeat and loss chased you down
Dead -end alleyways of lonely tears and the walls of your mind
Seemed about to collapse as you ran under a sky of broken dreams
And tossed away chances with closed eyes afraid you were dying
From large blows to the soul
A body worn and a collection of years of being struck
How many times have I seen you hanging over the ropes
Completely wiped out of cash and hope like a voice lost
In the rumbling of a subway train speeding past
tenements of Philadelphia

I want to explore you dreams
I want to see your world from the inside.
I want to know what drives your thoughts
And relish in the change

My world may be much different from yours, I've never seen where you are,
You Might enjoy, where I know so well, that things go as they come.

I want to explore, I crave to know entirely what makes you "you", and not me.
This guessing pleasantly torments my will to feel exactly as you do.


I don't care for structure, its far to predictable
Show what "crazy" you hide for fear of judgment.
I clench my teeth and widen eyes attempting to peer inside.

Your gaze notes the heightening "madness" you've felt as i **** your unconscious exsistance.

You sleep, i stare, no harm comes to you. Just a feeling of uneasiness as I long to invade you.

I want to explore your dreams. I want to know what makes you "not me".