Don't let people judge your life's story,
just because they walked in on a chapter that's boring.

She stopped saying goodnight,
so I stopped sleeping.

Exterior beauty,
without the counterpart,
of a kind soul,
is merely decoration.

She once thought,
she wanted to be a poet,
but deep down,
she knew,
she wanted to be a poem.

No mountain,
nor sea,
not one thing in this world,
could keep us apart,
for this is not
my world..

                     you are.

I dislike the truth about cities like ours;
the cities of footsteps and phones.
It could be only me and the wide open sea,
and I still wouldn't feel as alone.

Simple thing to be an addict, been at it since I was young,
harder to be an emphatic fanatic with iron lungs,
take a second, roll a blunt cause this isn't for fun,
thing about being an addict, is that it has to be done.
Simple thing to be a fiend and be green with some wicked ***,
harder to have a clean routine and be someone that you're not,
found that drugs are only fun until the day they're not,
might as well enjoy it until the day that they're all I got.

I do not believe this world is meant for us all.
I think that there are several types of people,
who are better off in a world of their own.
I am one of these people.
I am not particularly significant,
nor do I have any special talents.
I am passionately curious about life,
and all it has to offer.
I believe that people should bite off more than they can chew,
for I would rather choke on greatness,
than nibble on mediocrity.

I do not believe in a God,
I do not believe that any specific religion has all the answers,
rather,
I believe that people will always come up with scenarios and situations,
that give a potential reason for life.
I do not believe there is a world waiting for me when I die,
whether it be a kingdom in the clouds,
or endless lakes of fire.
I do not believe that if there were a God,
he would work in "mysterious" ways.
I believe that we are here for no specific purpose,
and rather than live our lives according to books that were written
hundreds of years ago,
we should understand that life is exactly what we, as the human race,
make it to be.
I truly believe that we as a race should stop believing in afterlives that other people have placed in our minds,
and come to realize that if there truly is an afterlife,
not one man or woman,
would ever be able to fathom it.
I believe that we should live life as one,
and worry about the rest,
if and when it comes to be.

Attract what you expect,
reflect what you desire,
become what you respect,
mirror what you admire.

I am strong,
but only because I once was weak.
I am fearless,
but only because I once was afraid.
I am wise,
but only because I once was foolish.
Life does not hand out these qualities,
but rather, allows them to be had,
only after you have endured the opposite.

I once considered myself trapped.
Trapped in my own demise.
I had built my walls so high,
I was unsure if you would ever make it over them.
What I didn't realize,
was that you slowly tore them down.
And before I noticed they were gone,
you had rebuilt them around us.
Only this time,
you added windows.

It is not that I miss you,
but more so that you are missing from me.
If we had never had the pleasure of meeting each other,
I think somehow, I would have realized my life was not whole.
I feel that I would be forever searching for you,
without even knowing what I was looking for.
I love you for many reasons,
but when people ask what I love most,
I simply say,
it is because you do not love me like I am ordinary.
Your love roars louder than my demons.

What if we fail?
"Than we will simply try again".
What if I am too weak to continue?
"I will be your crutch, and we will continue together".
What if I am simply not good enough?
"You will always be good enough for me".
What if I fall?
"Oh my dear, what if you fly?"

One cosmos,
a never ending number of planets,
two hundred and four countries,
eight hundred and nine islands,
seven vast oceans,
and I had the pleasure of meeting you*.

She went on by,
I tend to stare,
It's not my fault,
I'm drawn to her.
She walks as if,
she were lifted by air,
never noticing the imperfections around her.
I think to her,
there are no imperfections,
just things,
that need to be seen in a different light.

Her eye's were never quiet,
of her, the only thing I am sure,
is that the rebel in her, will never die,
she's the type of girl, that if you told not to do something,
she'd do it twice,
and take pictures.
I was constructed for her,
and she was molded for me.
I have a weakness for clever minds,
and honestly,
I never had a chance.

Psychedelics are not illegal, due to a "thoughtful" government,
who wishes to keep you safe.
They are illegal due to the fact that they push people away from social norms,
and dissolve the opinion structures that cultures have laid down for us to follow.
Psychedelics are illegal because they open you up to the possibility,
that everything you know,
is wrong.

We need to stop analyzing the past,
stop planning the future,
stop figuring out precisely how we feel,
stop deciding exactly what we want when we want it.
Sometimes, we just need to stop,
and see what happens.
You see, what we learn, and who we become,
in the process of waiting,
is often more important than the thing we were actually waiting for.

Within her,
I lose myself,
without her,
I find myself wanting to be lost again.
I just,
can't help myself.
She's the only one that knows me.
She's my 3am thought.
She can see my real worth,
she shows me things I never knew about myself.
And the thing is,
once you see your own worth,
it's hard to be around people that don't.

The world is dying,
we've used her to the bone,
how than, I wonder,
do we still call this home.
If the world could speak,
I wonder what she'd say,
one thing is for sure,
she would not ask us to stay.
We treat her like a place,
when really she's a palace,
the home in which we were born,
our wonderful, used up atlas.
We cut off her hair,
she beginning to go bald,
the trees she gave to help us breathe,
soon, there will be none at all.
I believe that, that is good,
for than, we will surely parish,
and world will start again,
to rebuild the things we should have cherished.

Have you ever wondered if life could be more simple?
And if it was, what it might look like?
I imagine a world without money,
a world in which it never existed.
A world where people did work,
in order to keep the world functioning.
Not for selfish desire of money,
not for the need to stay financially stable,
but because it was the right thing to do.
A world where people only took what was needed,
a world without greed or excess.
A world without money,
would mean a world without theft,
whether it be for greed,
or survival.
A place where individuals shared what they had,
just for the purpose of being kind.
Money has tainted the youth.
A sourness that stays with them no matter the age.
Perhaps if there was no money,
the wealth of the world would be decided in the love one another gives.
Perhaps if there was no money,
the pettiness of the world,
would be much, much less.

The world is sad,
you can see it on their faces.
The people who walk slower than others,
the people that don't look your way.
These are the people that know what life really is,
the ones that enjoy the rain,
the ones that are used to pain,
the me's and the you's of today.
They're easy to spot,
the world is full of them,
the ones inside on sunny days,
the ones that rarely show their pain.
Its not that they don't feel,
it's just,
they feel less,
from years of noticing the world is dull,
and always living with subtle stress.
These people deserve an applause,
these people are me and you,
the type of person, that average people,
tend to see right though.

Theseus is the captain of a ship.
He is sent on a voyage that will take just over a year to complete.
Though out the voyage,
pieces of the ship begin to rot, and need to be replaced.
Theseus has his men remove each piece of wood as it rots,
and replace it with another.
By the time Theseus has returned to port,
his ship is composed of entirely new pieces of wood.
Is the ship the same ship that he originally departed with?
Let us also suppose, that during the voyage,
there is a following ship.
The following ship is a scavenger,
that retrieves the old pieces of wood as they are removed from Theseus' ship.
The scavenger than creates an entire ship from the old pieces.
Which than, would be Theseus' ship?

Imagine that the world is not as it seems,
let us pretend, that the world has advanced at an exponential rate,
technology has excelled into what we would expect in a hundred years,
could we not than say, that perhaps we no longer live as we do now?
let us consider, today's technology,
and how we are able to provide simulations.
For instance,
we are able to predict the flight path of meteors to the second,
and are able to simulate entire universes,
on a simple computer.
So than let suppose, that technology has indeed excelled,
far past what we know today,
If so,
I would like to think that we are in a simulation ourselves.
Perhaps we are learning of a time when the world was primitive.
A time before technology had advanced so.
I would like to imagine that I am currently asleep,
with some kind of device,
portraying the world as it once were,
and when this life is over,
we will wake up in an entirely different place.
Or perhaps it is like the saying.
That life flashes between your eyes as you lie on your death bed.
If so,
than how do we know for sure,
that this life that we are living now,
is not that?
for instance,
perhaps I am on my death bed right now,
and this is my life flashing before my eyes.
No one has ever specified how quickly or slowly the flash is experienced,
so why couldn't it be at the speed that life was originally taken?
Perhaps we know nothing,
and the more we think we learn,
the more we are hindered by the unknown.
For I do not think that we can know anything for sure.
And for all of those that refuse to think other wise,
I feel sorry,
because no one knows what life truly is,
not one person can tell you for sure what happens after death.
For this reason,
I refuse to think,
that we are brought to the "heavens",
or rot in the ground.
I believe that we will never know.
And if we ever do,
we will look back on our past selves,
and realize that we were naive.
Nothing is as it seems.

Philosophy has taught me never to think I know,
for I know nothing at all,
and this is the only thing I know for sure.
Imagine you are in a cave,
you were born here,
and have been here ever since.
you are chained to face a wall,
can not move,
but know nothing different.
On the wall there are shadows,
cast from behind you,
caused by dancing figures in front of a flame.
You can not see these figures,
but you know them by their shadows.
Beside you, is another,
another just like yourself,
born and raised to stare at the shadows,
and just like you, knows nothing different.
Now imagine one day,
you are set free from your chains,
and you are brought to a door,
behind the door is a life you never knew could exist,
the sun, the trees, the world as we know it now.
You would be astonished,
amazed that you had lived your life from this point,
never knowing it was there.
Now say you were brought back to your chains,
reunited with the other,
who has not yet seen the world for what it is.
Would you be able to explain to them,
that there is a world beyond the shadows?
For the shadows are all they know,
they have become so familiar,
that they are able to guess the figures before their arrival.
How would you explain that there is a fantastic world beyond what they see?
it's simple.
You couldn't.
And forever, they will be trapped,
not knowing that there is so much more to life.
I feel that this is the way of the world.
The cosmos, being as big as it is,
and religion, giving claims as it does.
The people have no way of seeing what else is out there.
What happens after they die.
What life is truly about.
They never even wonder.
And than, they just die.

I'm *******,
I'm upset,
upset because I know myself better than the rest.
I'm not someone that tries and tries again,
rather,
I'm someone that fails and refuses to go again.
I'm frustrated,
and only blame myself,
built up anger,
more so than these thousand books on my shelves.
The more I learn,
the less I know,
at least,
know for sure,
but than again, I'll never know.
I hide in my cave,
away from all the rest,
it's calm, it's quiet,
the place that I am best.
See people are all caught up in their lives,
wondering what people will think,
I can tell you they think the same thing,
they're just wondering what people think of them.
We live in a world, of wondering others thoughts,
and never being concerned in the lessons we've been taught.
I hate this life,
I wish we would all just care less,
no money,
no hatred,
no worry,
no mess.

She was hiding in the garden and met a cabbage named Fred,
She likes to give names to things she thinks are cool,
and call them friends.
Than she took me to her toy box,
"this is where everything goes",
this is the way, so stay and play,
and I know you'll feel at home.
"You be Cory, I'll be Topanga",
"you be Pete, I'm Mary Jane",
"I will be here, you don't always have to, smoke the pain away".
It's just me against myself again,
but she doesn't see my flaws,
"if you bottle your emotions, we'll just drink them through a straw".

I'm probably lost underneath my hat,
it's scary, dark and cold,
I can see this being a place,
where I grow old.

I'll hide in the seams of my hat,
this seems like a nice place to be at.

You, wouldn't understand what's on my mind,
eyes too wide for the sun to shine.

I'm probably lost underneath your hat,
It's scary safe and warm,
and I can see it being a place where I am all yours.

So I'll pull the seams of my hat,
this seems like the right place to relapse,
and all that I thought that I had,
It was only a need to snap back.

You, wouldn't understand what's on my mind,
mind to wide for sun to shine.

When I was young,
I dreamt of being old,
now that I am old,
I dream of being young.
I wish that I was ten,
with the knowledge I have today,
that way I can do things different,
that way I wouldn't end up this way.
I wish that I could change,
but this is who I grew to be,
and now I fear I will always be,
the same, old, lonely, me.

There must be something more,
than nights spent with them,
and wandering though my mind,
and wondering where I am.
Their not so bad,
they tell me they've been watching,
they are my friends,
invisible, but haunting.
People say I've gone mad,
the voices shouldn't be heard,
at least not by someone sane,
but than again, I'm so unsure.
But to hell,
with all of the nonsense,
I know just who I am,
and have no room for other comments.
Alone in my mind I shall spend out my days,
alone,
but not really,
the voices are here to stay.

**** it, I'm lost, but hell, who isn't,
and every time I find myself they want something different,
I get it,
I've never been the one to tell the truth from a vision,
and every time I try to speak, they don't ******* listen,
not my fault, never try, just to be,
someone bigger than myself, don't you see,
I never really wanted to be anyone else but me,
surrounded by the people who are convinced that they see,
everything is meant to be, but they crack at the seams,
lost, but it's probably my fault,
considering I've never once considered myself tall,
in the middle of a fall,
I'm lost as ****,
but honestly don't care at all.

The girl with all of me,
has left me in the deep,
for now I must go, and rest my head,
I toss, I turn,
but never sleep,

for long I have dreamed,
of her at my side,
so tell me, why now?
my eyes are kept wide,

surrounded by many,
and noticed by few,
my one problem being,
unnoticed by you,

I miss you,
I want you,
I'm here all alone,
I'm waiting,
but tired,
so please come back home.

I open my eyes too look,
but when open i see nothing,
I close my eyes and I start to see,
your smile, your shine,
your eyes, you're blushing,
I caught you off guard,
a moment you don't try,
its beautiful, its relaxing,
its every reason why,
the glow, the awe, the glimmer, that feel,
I see it, I need it, I know now its real,
I open my eyes,
but again I see nothing,
that feeling still there,
but you're no longer blushing.

Do not hate,
hate is for the unkind, and the unloved,
hate, is what defines a man,
humanity, is what defines the world,
and we have taught the world to hate,
through our hatred, we come to create a world of suffering and misfortune,
we cannot continue to live in a life surrounded by hate,
and if it was not for man, hate would not exist,
hate exists only in man himself,
if every man and woman was to exclude hate from their lives,
life would be much different,
we could live a life that is free and beautiful,
but instead we decide to hate,
so I say be benevolent,
and maybe the world would learn to love.

It lingers,
it stings,
it holds me by the throat,
I breathe in,
but take nothing,
that's when I start to choke,
I gasp,
I struggle,
I'm desperate,
I'm dying,
the lights are all fading,
there's no use in trying,
beneath me the floor shakes,
it rocks and it tumbles,
the chair tips,
I realize,
that now I'm in trouble,
suspended in air,
yes this is my day,
I'm floating, I'm leaving,
yes far far away.

Dressed in all black,
she arrives at my door,
but rather than go out,
we dine on my floor.
With pillows for seats,
and candles for light,
she tells me of the past,
her memories of life.
Pizza and wine,
a great dinner for two,
not what she was expecting,
but I bet it will do.
She picks off her onions,
and adds them to mine,
I hardly even noticed,
and certainly didn't mind.
With two boxes eaten,
and one bottle down,
we head to the sofa,
my black leather playground.
We put on a movie,
something about about a book,
she hands me her feet,
and I rub out the nooks.
The AC comes on,
I give her my sweater,
and slowly but surely,
I become cold as ever.
I light up a blunt,
we pass back and forth,
she slowly moves closer,
and I begin to feel warm.
She places her head,
on the top of my chest,
I move in and kiss her,
my nerves come to rest.
Her lips taste like cherries,
it's probably the wine,
little did I know,
she tastes like that all the time.
I notice that it's late,
I'm now high as a kite,
our voices begin to lower,
and we theorize about life.
She tells me she thinks,
life is not to be dread,
and it's only the beginning,
there is much more ahead.
We lie there eyes closed,
and ponder the theory,
and start the beginning,
of our sleepover series.

Coffee stains on dresser drawers,
sprawled out on top of covers,
I don't think I could miss you more,
my one and only secret lover.
We said we knew, it wouldn't last,
and I don't think you're to blame,
but now I lie, with you on mind,
and come to see I'm not the same.
I feel, I am empty,
left saddened and blue,
my once secret lover,
I'm none, without you.

I do not try to reach out,
no, it is just a waste of time,
see, people tend to look away,
when they think you've finally lost your mind.
So what I've gone mad,
gone lucid,
insane,
sanity, was for the weak,
the timid,
the desperate,
the utterly lame.
I enjoy myself here,
caught up in my dreams,
now lost in the shadows,
I find myself,
free.

Not once have I thought,
myself to be better,
not witty,
nor charming,
not funny,
nor clever,
I walk with a pace,
to be passed on by,
you look, and you notice,
I am hidden, inside.

There is a feeling I strive for,
A feeling untouched by word,
A feeling of such and sound,
A feeling in which is heard.

I look, with open eyes,
But nothing, is too see,
I watch, like nothing else,
Aside, like wind and sea.

More than feel, I tend to think
My thoughts, they tend to stray,
To think of all the things to feel,
My thoughts are gone, I've none to say.

Hello, Goodbye, I bid you good day,
In search of this feeling, I go,
But before I depart, there is something else,
I will have no departure, before this you know.

I love, and have loved,
Upon you, But my word.
To find the things, I wish to feel,
To never let them go unheard.

Roses are grey,
violets are another shade of grey,
let's go chase cars.

She was hiding in the garden and met a cabbage named Fred,
She likes to give names to things she thinks are cool,
and call them friends.
Than she took me to her toy box,
"this is where everything goes",
this is the way, so stay and play,
and I know you'll feel at home.
You be Cory, I'll be Topanga,
you be Pete, I'm Mary jane,
"I will be here, you don't have to, always smoke the pain away".
It's just me against myself again,
but she doesn't see my flaws,
"if you bottle your emotions, we'll just drink them through a straw".

Don't mess with me momma I'm a mighty good man,
I'd take a home in the woods by myself if I can,
I never thought much of the city and lights,
Never lost sleep while holding you tight till now,
until now.

So don't sing for me darling, no don't say a word,
You've got the eyes of a liar, and the heart of a bird,
We can stand all night in the cedar and pine,
Never though I was gonna lose my mind like this,
No not like this.

So reach for me darling through that dark tree line,
And take me home to the woods in the back of my mind,
Well press through the needles, add brush to the flame,
Then burn like the smoke in the back of my brain,
Please,
Just take me home.