Like a moth, I seek flames to ignite matchstick eyes.
I fear kodokushi.
I fear failure.
But most of all, I fear the way traffic moves so slowly towards nowhere.
The trivial things I wish I could escape but can not.
And I know the answers to questions no one has asked...
It is not enough.
I just want to crumple into my self
Like a spider dying.
Becasue I fear everything life has to offer,
And death holds all the promise.
I stifle a few tears
Just to write
Afraid to be exposed by the light
For I am just....

This poetry thing
Isn't for amateurs.
Some nights your heart wants to sing,
But you'll forget the words-
Words that so carefully guide us,
Yet so painfully bind us to a dream.
The dream of escaping, peacefully, the horrendous atrocities of reality.
You see dead bodies bleeding into the street,
But describe it as a stream, crimson from the setting sun's glow.
Watch it flow lazily into oblivion.
The indifference you learn from watching ghastly scenes unfold again and again.
And people sing so merrily, the survival tactic of distraction,
But you've forgotten the words.
What were the words?

I suffer
The circular trepidation
Of waiting
For joy

Spend too much time in my mind
Still not getting ahead
Lately I've been feeling the urge to cry
Not really knowing why
Maybe it's a well of emotions
I thought had run dry
Don't understand it but I try try try
Tyrannically
I'll make you love me
My words don't taste like they used to
Bittersweet
The day my dreams and memories meet
Maybe I'll find
Meaning in the secrets I so carefully keep

There's
Some things
Even the greatest
Poet
Can not
Write

You say you're ready to end it all, things are too much to handle
Meanwhile I sit in a bathtub full of water blade to my skin.
I know you want something, some show of emotion-
Anything for God's sake!
How hard could it be?
But I am not strong, though I feign it.
I don't know a thing, though I claim it.
You search for an impetus to stay.
All I can clearly say is, "There is none."
Its devastating, that much I know.
But what am I to do when all I've been through has extinguished the light I once possessed? Somehow light shines through my words, sometimes
But it's just muscle memory at this point.
What can anyone do for you?

What can anybody do for any of us.....

Suffer with me
Just a bit longer.
Starless nights
In the city-
Watching, waiting
For a glimmer of peace.
Shooting stars
Zoom too fast for us
to make a wish, but truthfully,
I don't think either of us would know what to wish for.
Stare at me just a bit longer.
Dimmed eyes
Spiral out of control.
"I ain't a kid no more,
We'll never be those kids again."
Said we'd never hurt each other and meant it. Guess we didn't know how hard a promise is to keep. And we sing our emotions cuz we're tired of screaming and not being heard.
Overdose on lullabies
The starless nights
Seem to go on
But the songs,
The songs are lovely.

It's ok to hurt sometimes.
Happy people run from their pain, then break like waves on a Cliffside-
I don't break.
I hurt, sometimes.
That is all.
The sun can't always shine, nor darkness last. It is the ever changing tide of life, it is rising to my feet, and it doesn't hurt, it doesn't always hurt most times.

Don't force your thoughts onto my words.
Don't know if you're not sure.
What I mean and what I say
Are not the same-

A tragedy
I know...

I could like you forever
Or love you
Every now and then.
Emotions
I haven't much use for them.
The ghost memories of a once heart
Guide my hand
Across this surface-
And I feel,
I feel

Betrayed

Sorrow touches my lips
As I exhale
An agonizing sigh.
Slumped over in a chair
Eager to go nowhere.
And I feel alone
Because I am.... I think.
And Descartes has been dead for some time now, but his thoughts live on amongst scholars claiming to know something of the world.
Meanwhile, I know nothing. Why does the sun keep coming up? Where do the dead go? Does time speed forward, or march on slow?
My back tires. I change posture, lean back.
I am alone, but these faces are not to blame. How do we communicate when I know not their name?

Where does a poet go
When his troubled soul
Is now fixed?
What happens when you move on, but can't let go of this
Writing thing?
Were these words my weakness or my strength?
They were all I had when there was nobody to confide in,
No one to listen.

Is there a support group for tears that once ran sad but now flow with joy?
For I am a man now, but deep inside is that lost little boy gasping for breath. Is letting him rest rebirth of death?
These words who were once a big part of me- I can't tell if they were my armor or vulnerability.

Where does a poet go when he's lost his words,
But gained a soul?

I imbibe on this treacherous night
Amongst fanged smiles
And murderous eyes.
They all know *******-
But themselves- are afraid to die.
Take another one down-
Their laughter like a car crash rapes my ears. They sin but know no tears. I fail but know no fears. I can't relate to my peers. What am I doing here?

Got flanked by one asking, "So, in your eyes, what's the biggest difference between the rich and the poor?"

"One has nothing but act like it's everything. The other has everything and acts like it is nothing. Both think the other a fool."

Another one interjects, "But surely poverty can't be that noble."
As if Jesus was handing out cheese trays and champagne to dinner guests wearing Italian suits with silk vests.
"Poverty is self inflicted. Anyone who works hard enough can achieve whatever they want."

I smirk and say, "That's why your grandfather's business pays for all of your families' needs, so you can reap the benefits and call it work?"

The subject is changed.
Some nonsense about politics now.

And all they do is talk.
No mind changed or knowledge gained.
The atmosphere is dry; tame has become their death glance.
Maybe I should change the music and show them how to dance.

Begrudgingly, I place shoes upon my feet to go places I've been before
A million paces back and forth
Trail marks left on the floor
Trapped, not by chains or circumstance,
but by a mind unable to feel
Walking through minefields of neglect and lost intellect
How many lies did I forget?
How many lies do I still hold true?
Communication flows from you to me, but not me to you
I'm in dire straits
This turtle race
Makes me anxious
I scratch and scrawl
Diseased words
On my heart
Words like:
"Unyielding pain,
Demons, haunting, hopeless, can't, unable"
And we are conduits of our thoughts
I've been pacing back and forth in these shoes
And just now realized I've never put on socks

For you are a rose
Behaving as a dandelion-
Tough,
But
As the wind blows
You are scattered
Leaving nothing for yourself.
Let yourself be tended to
And bloom how you were intended to .
And perhaps, you'll lose your toughness, but then
You Could enjoy the cool breeze
And we can gleefully discuss it

Not sure
                   When it happened.
When I lost passion.
Maybe,
                 Like all things,
It fades with time.

The process of moving a pen
Across a page doesn't feel the same.
Words don't carry weight,
But still they pull me down
As I drown in a pool of non-existence.
And I say "non-existence" because if you exist in a state other than your full potential, does it even really count?

All the failures of past generations and their endless frustrations; can you not feel them mount?

All the questions I can't ask out loud
So I write them down,
But what do I do when anxieties abound
And the smell of fresh ink doesn't sedate me like it used to?

When life gets too much
And you need to escape the clutch
Of reality, where does one recuse to?

Gentle words
                          Move me
Amongst
              Fellow Gentiles
Who weren't promised
                A thing.

What's psalms do I sing

               Now?

What temperance
Hath peace
In me
Started?
The nights
Swoon,
Dreams alight
Upon my mind
No longer.
Endless faith
In hopeless deeds-
Growing pains
From defective seeds.
What I am and what I came to be
Never coincided peacefully
I was supposed to set the world on fire,
Instead I water the seeds of my own discord
That something good may come of it

Everything has its place,
Has it's meaning
'Til you realize
The abject truth:
A spider eats a moth
The same way it does a butterfly.

On this day, one of the few I look to see what's going on around me,
I finally notice I'm out of place;
Amongst teens that speak of a love they don't truly know, that's why they speak of it so romantically.
And the older souls so full of hope. The brightest future shows itslef when you go through a dark past, but, in that case, an incandescent bulb would do- that is the tragedy. Not everyone gets a sun. I sit here dumb trying to be a part of something I am not.  A poet... no.
A writer... no.
Just a man
With too much time
Not enough heart.

This thing I do with my hands
Is not art,
Though some may see it's tragic beauty.
Like whispers on a mountain range
I write
Estranged from perception.
It is not for you.
Somewhere deep inside
Remnants of my soul cling to life.
Unrepentant breaths,
Suffering humble deaths.
Cuts across my skin
Just to release endorphins.
Pain no longer suffices.
Numbness has taken a hold of me
The mellow glow of a yellow niceness.
Freedom only in death.
Used up four lives
How many have I left?
My soul cries,
"Not quite yet.
Just write it out.
Ride it out."

My tale is one of impermanence.
Waste this life,
Lament the next.
I Breathe,
simply
As a reflex.
Children enjoy the show,
I know all the magic tricks
So I sit in the back looking for other distractions.
A million times or more
I've seen bulls slaughtered on the stadium floor;
Dying to the thunderous roar
Of people's silent indifference.
It doesn't make any sense.
And the tears don't fall like they used to.
After a while you gain a disdain for the world and how it used you.
Every now and then it gets too much to bear.
I sought escape but couldn't find it anywhere.
Maybe my chances will be better in the next,
Or ,maybe,
I'll be lost in the process

It's disheartening to see sparks that once caught your eye slowly flicker away and die. I think on how long I carried the flame. Has it been long?
How many people have looked into my eyes and saw the fire waning? Now the smoking ashes of a once memory flutter in the wind like butterflies in migration. Where do they go? I don't know nor do I care anymore...

And so
The wind changes
The birds sing along.
I'm going to Dakota
Where the cold silence is understood.
As the rose blooms,
My grip loosens;
The thorns didn't hurt very long.
"Why haven't I done it sooner?"
I guess I just wanted someone to feel the pain I feel.

I'm sorry
I tricked you
Into loving me......

The day will come
When taking a ****
Will Seem a task greater
Than storming the beaches of Normandy.

On that day,
My bones,
Like wind chimes
Singing in the wind,
Will burn
A dull but ever-lasting flame.
A dying star
Taking its last breaths
And all will stand in wonderment
Asking themselves
"What now"
But only I will know.

From ash
A Phoenix rises
Only to fall again-
But I'm just  
A raven
Cawing
My way to escape.

Our  skin is
                   Bats
blindly
        fluttering in the night.

The melancholy
Settling
          on our bones
Is an old man
Spending
                    $100
At a ******'s
In exchange for
Some pretty girl's
                                 attention.

Our heroes
              are Silver plated
But
               Cast in clay.

What is there

Left
          To say?
Life has conned us all

            As dried leaves
Scorched

                    Under sun rays
Fall

Without dancing in the wind.

We were meant to
  
               Glide up
In the sky,

While stars look upon us
    
                           And cry.

I've nary a use for dreams.
Stifled memories and obscenities
Created by a tortured mind.
The real world
With it's dangerous and deceitful
Seems more kind.
Nothing left to find.
They continue to sell us the dream of the universe.
"New adventures"
It's like new love same lame heart.
Somewhere along the way
We've lost our art.
What use is a dream
When reality has become absurd

No one has answers.
You can ask priests or rabbis,
But they take everything on faith.
And the redeemed vehemently believe, the innocent wonder why bad things continue to happen.
No one has answers.
My words, in some semblance of hope, carry me day to day.
I randomly want to break out in tears-years of repressed emotion no doubt-
But I stifle them back for another time.
I don't know why.
No one has answers.
Every good thing in life can be quantified and sold, by those who scheme or dream. No one knows the fiber of our being or our meaning. We drift endlessly at sea. "Water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink." Innumerable bodies floating around, too many thoughts to think.  
Our eyes, in pain mirred,
Leave much to be desired;
Knowing, after all these years,
We have come to no greater conlcusion:
We all sail in confusion.
We assail the demons inside,
But they never truly die-
We just learn to live with them.
We never win,
And I don't know why.....

I had a vegetarian steak.
It wasn't horrible,
But it wasn't great.
I'm in a vegetative state.
Not really living,
Not really dead.
Cocooned in silk.
Waiting to molt into
Some thing of a greater ilk
-don't think I ever will-
Diamond encrusted shackles
Glimmer pretty in sunlight,
But I can't wipe tears away from my eyes. I have no joys,
No fears, no meassage,
No thoughts worth thinking anymore.
Vessel broken, I'm sinking into depression more and more. I have suffered, as we all have. I have struggled, as we all still do. We are the same, but I cannot connect to any one of you. What do I have left? Music, women, drugs, poetry, TV, liquor; all the distractions are pointless now. As i stare off into space reminiscing simpler times, I realize, I never really named the voice in my head. I can't mourn it now that it's dead.
Life is a paper plane in space flying toward the sun.

I'm in trouble....

Eyes:
The glimmer has dulled.
In the winter
We curled together
Hopeful that summer would melt our frozen hearts.
Cryogenics never quite took off; forever is nothing to scoff at. How are we to spend eternity when this quarter century has already lasted too long? We listen to the same songs on repeat- we know the words but forgotten how to tap our feet. Asymptotic lives forced to come close but never meet. Summer is here. Our hearts were never really frozen, that's just what they told us. And to come together is to burn alive- Salem witch trials- mediocre minds know extraordinary vileness. Nights I wake up drenched in sweat wondering what could have been. I play our songs half hoping to be frozen in memory. I reach and reach, but touch only air. Heavy, humid air. Always choking on ghostly emotions. Rain clouds come round but nothing falls. Existential drought. Bodies fall,
Silent
Under the sun.
The unaffected
Play on the beach
And have fun.

Life is a million little deaths,
I'm not sure how many I have left.
Lonely nights I've wept and dreamt for reprieve. God has one too many tricks up his sleeve. Talking doesn't ease the pain, it only distributes it across multiple planes of emotion. How do I feel? The better question is, "How does one survive being stranded in the ocean? You hope and pray; That is the way. Place your faith in the thought, "Some other day it will be ok." Don't mind me I'm dying- a bird flying against the wind, never moving, unable to win. Writing is a practice in futility now. I ramble on about the same problems. A fly crashing into Windows, unable to solve them. A million deaths before we get to live. We take a million breaths before we learn to give. I could create universes with this nib, but instead I ***** and complain about my circumstances.
How does one stop?

I can't hold my liquor;
I'm not a lightweight, I literally can't hold the bottle, but I can hold a battle with my demons for the remainder of the night. It's not an anger that consumes me, It is fear. I'm afraid of us and for us. I can't hold my liquor, but the fear doesn't sway, it's simply numb, like dentists drilling your teeth after a shot of novacane. Frank Ocean plays in the background. My soul is fragmented across multiple songs and melodies that's why I drop to my knees and sob uncontrollably- the memories come rushing back. I've forgotten what it's like to feel except through other people's art. I'm afraid I can't be whole. I can't hold my liquor, and as I walk outside I see a dead cat boiling on tarmac still hot from the Texas summer. And the birds are free, but they can't fly against the wind, that is where salvation lies and that's the catch. I'm afraid the mortal condition can never be cured, even in death. I can't hold on to hope, but the bottle is within arms reach, I just need a better grip.

As the world sleeps,
I creep through empty streets
And darkened alleys.
Need a cure for maladies of the soul.
Luckily, some guy in skinny jeans,
a L.A. fitted and Nikes provides.
I don't dream anymore, reality is more absurd.
I'd like to explain my life, but I don't know the words.
I've been lost- at odds with it all.
I don't get even- I just wait for the world to fall
-Fall it shall-
I know how to die with style;
Bukowski showed me how.
I know how to handle the pain.
Javier Solis is singing about it now.
I know what it's like to swim,
But do you know how to drown?

My soul is a neutron star dying,
But please, tell me more about how your earthly remedies can help.
"I need help."
Now that's just me lying-
Trying to make ppl feel worth more than what they really are.
I dream
Inhuman things,
How do I fit in
With human beings?
The answer is,
I dont....
Keep your dreams and aspirations,
I'll Keep searching for a greater form of greatness.

I've lost my meaning.
And these words make it worse,
As I cannot explain my universe.
But it's alright.
I'm alright.
My sleeves have always been too long; a byproduct of hand-me-downs.
So when I wear my emotions, it's not even close to what my heart feels.
I've learned to yell without sound.
Learned to cry with out tears.
I know how to die, slowly, over so many years.
From time to time
I get knots in my stomach,
Hunger pangs for something more.
This life is leftovers thrown out by whatever creature created this flawed system, because I know of infinity, but just get a slice of time, so as to be
Silenced...
Fighting gains me nothing, but it's all I know.
Fools dance on unaware, carefree.
Wisdom has no benefits when you know you are powerless- It brings only pain.

Meanwhile, The fools dance on happily.
How foolish can the be?

escape has become my cell
The Thin veil of freedom
Wraps tightly around my skin
Choke me with your silence
See me with no eyes
Death is a better alternative
You there, reader, are a fool
For sticking around so long
Look around there is nothing here:
3 walls and a cell door, a flimsy mattress atop a metal frame bolted to the wall, and a toilet.
In here I am all and nothing
Escape is overrated

We were young when we were friends.
Always used to play pretend.
I was a cop. He was a crook.
Never did things by the book.

Bang bang, he shot me down.
Bang bang, I hit the ground.
Bang bang, that awful sound.
Bang bang, my buddy shot me down.

It was us against the crowd, But time passed, parted us like clouds.
I fit in. He wasn't allowed.
He looked for help, I didn't make a sound.

Bang bang, I shot him down.
Bang bang, He hit the ground.
Bang bang, That awful sound.
Bang bang , I shot my buddy down.

Festering wounds don't heal quick.
I heard something that made me sick.
Screams echoing through the corridor.
He loaded up, kicked down the door.
I don't thing we're friends anymore.

Bang bang, he shot me down.
Bang bang, I hit the ground.
Bang bang, that awful sound.
Bang bang, my buddy shot me down.

Forgotten how to cry
Tragedy tragedy tragedy
Has numbed the pain
Unfortunately
Only the dull remains.
Forgotten
What it's like to die
Slowly
Day by day.
Some demon eye watches
From a dark grey sky
Tempering
My tamagahane soul.
Belong above the moon
Light years above this place
As Bowie plays
Exclusively for lost ears.
A voice tells me,
"In life, you're either in pain or in delusion."
I've been losing
My grip
On this string of reality.
Forgotten how to cry.
What's even the point of these eyes?
To watch the crumbling stars;
Struggling to figure out what we are?
To look through darkness
For some kind of hope?
This is my drink.
This is my dope.
No need to think.
No need to cope.
I'm drowning in the quicksand.
End this poem
End it all.
Blood, like rainfall
Keeps me talking tall
But falling short of paradise.
I'm in danger.....

Your eyes
Could melt
This pewter world,
And give
Power to
The powerless.
But the toungue
Learnt silence.
Statues remain
Intact.
Reality is no place
For dreaming.
Money trees grow
Their sickly, green leaves
As souls cascade
Into foreign soils.
You could've
Melted the world
With your song and dance,
But the rhythm
Has been broken.
The clocks are off key.
Some one
Should've done something.
Why are you looking at me?

Placate their shattered hearts.
Let them play their tragic parts.
Their eyes are sunken dreams.
Life, death, and
Everything in between.
Jesus is no where to be found.
I sigh as I look around

At the preachers
Giving into devils,
Look how the pious pray.
What more can I say
As i look
at the woman
Dealing with the wrong guy.
Oh no
I wonder if she'll ever know,
She's on the best selling show.
Is there life on mars?

Oh the piano is out of tune
To those who grew
On the moon.
So detached from this place.
Hear it in their voice
You can read it on their face.
This life is a depressing chore,
'Cause they lived it ten times or more.
They're about to be sad again
As we force them to look

At the preachers
Giving into devils,
Look how the pious pray.
What more can I say
As i look
at the woman
Dealing with the wrong guy.
Oh no
I wonder if she'll ever know,
She's on the best selling show.
Is there life on mars?

What we
Are,
We shall never
Be.
We are programmed
For the stars-
Programed to the
Sea.

Desperation
Settles on my skin
Like grease
Or oil.
Wash away all you like,
But it's hard to get under
The fingernails.
Words were a gale
Rushing
Lifting me up
But desperation
Keeps weighing me down.
I want diamonds in my heart
Eagles in my eyes
Pearls in my smile
But I am not that guy.
Hatred has wrapped it's claws
'Round my neck
And I kind of like it.
Wash it away
Wash it away,
Can't get under the fingernails
What the **** is even the point

I trace wild horses with my fingers;
Running,
Running in the dead of night.
Running from sunlight.
We were cursed to think up freedom
And not understand what it means.
The message is too many things.
Running-
From what?
Wonderful is the midnight dark
There is life,
There is the spark.
The perfect man is up
Looking in trashcans for food
To survive.
We live all this time
Just to die
One day.
So many years dedicated to
One day.
I'll find it out
Some day-
The way
Is too high
My thoughts, base.
Listen to the drums
Feel the bass in your bones.
Life is reflections and vibrations
A mind trying to make sense
Of imaginary stimuli
That's why I stare
At the stars in your eyes
Wondering
What the horses
Are running from

I'm only alone when I wake from my dreams.
The floor is quick sand.
I can barely stand;
I am trapped to my knees.
No kicking or screaming, please.
It facilitates demons entering me.

I'm only safe in my dreams.
I'm only safe in my dreams.

I'm only safe in my dreams.
Stuck in a world where nothing is what it seems.
Keep your electric eye on me,
I'll show you something real,
But only so briefly.
I made memories as a barfly
Floating through the sky-
It was all underneath me.
The dream doesn't last;
It is forever fleeting.

But I'm only safe in my dreams.
I'm only safe in my dreams.

One day
I shall dream
Forever.
There is
No better
Dream.
Days blend
Into night
Night blends into eternity
The stars
the eyes
Are one
Some are
Dead
Already
Time hasn't
Passed enough
For you to realize
Life
And
Death
Blend
As one
Itis
Tragedy
Itis
Fun
Thereisnoendonlycontinuum
Continue on.
What's in you
Is strong.
"I know
Nobody
Knows
Where it comes
And where
It goes......
Dream on
Dream on
Dream on
Dream on."

The world perpetually turns.
The Phoenix eternally burns.
Somewhere beneath the embers
Is a memory nobody remembers.
The smell of cleaning chemicals
Fills my nostrils,
But getting the stains out seems impossible.
God gives us only what we can handle,
But my suspension is shot,
So any little bump is a lot.
The air is getting warmer.
The air is getting thinner.
I struggle to breathe, there's no salvation for a born sinner.
The world turns perpetually.
The Phoenix burns eternally.
I am not so lucky.

I drive, during daylight, through the city.
It's a different side I never get to see.
I'm looking to satiate my hunger;
A hunger older than time.
A hunger that leads men to create gods, governments, science and traffic law.
The endeavor is foolish,
Restaurants and bars brimming with people looking for substance,
They're looking too.
And the flea-ridden dog with the lame leg, he's looking too.
The woman at the bus stop with all her belongings in a trash bag, applying makeup,
She's a looking too.
The man wearing a baseball cap and glasses in his convertible Porsche,
He's looking too.
The earth hasn't gotten any bigger, yet there's enough to keep teams of scientists- different fields too- occupied for years.
And I'm driving though the city
Looking for something to do.

Another day.
Things are OK.
I'm still waiting
For my moment-
Any moment.
The fire
Has dimmed.
Smoke billows
Toward the sky.
I breathe,
But I'm barely even alive.
What's the point of fighting?

The world is invisible.
My brain can't comprehend what we're doing here.
"Fight you idiot!" That's what the voice inside my head yells.
Poe asks, "Can you no longer hear the bells?"
I can't....
It's all a low buzz now:
Cars honking for me to go,
The songs on the radio.

I am mist
Dissipating in the wind,
But it is OK
It's just another day.

I pen these words
To upend the scourge of humanity
In me
For I have been human
Longer than I think I should've.
To be honest, my poetry isn't in the words you read, but in my mere existence.
I am celestial, eternal.
I know this life is death-
Still I take my breaths
Because mortality is a once in a lifetime experience.
I pen these words to chronicle the journey,
Nothing more.
I do not belong,
But here I am;
What keeps me going
Is that one day,
I shall return to the motherland
And this life will be a fleeting memory.
A moment to be remembered
Then forgotten
like it's supposed to be.