i have yellow teeth from smoking cigarretes.

every time i inhale to breathe
as an exhale leaves my lungs.
a putrid and foul smell excels through my blackening lungs.
the smell of cigarettes and the cotton mouth i forget that i get.

but things like that dont:
bother me
upset me
things dont get me worried.

i have the tendancy to ignore all that is flaw within me.

actually i embrace these things proudly.
oddly enough thats the stuff i need to be pretty.

nicotine breath
worsening health
my minimum wage wealth that is gone before i can say cat.
THATS A FACT!
it bothers me to see how uncomfortable people appear to be when they simply all but just exist.
thats how it should be plainly seen.

i mean you exist....
EXIST with purpose that may surface to your unknown dome that holds this unrequitted idea of flaw.

hell if i think im pretty with my flaws, i hope you could imagine me in my draws. ;)

a smile is health.

but first,
                                              accept...
                                                          self...

there are old men who scratch lotto tickets more often than a monkey scratches its ***.
   even though the chance is slim, somehow...
for some odd **** reason they are so sure of their chances.
that maybe Just MAYBE.
they'll win.
   there are old men who play piano blindly; beautifully.
then there's a young man who sees perfectly; plays terribly.
there are men who know no knowledge of high school and or college but are certified with life.
its usually the student who asks the elders of their previous endeavors who seek answers to current questions of the time grandpa lost all of his money and life during the depression.
who knew?
monkey *** old man better win the lotto.
he deserves it.
  every man his age deserves a strike of luck....
                              
                                  with 1 buck...

my fingers tickle keys about pointless topics that many strangers read
   i try to impress those with a rythm i attempt to keep
i think of impressing others even when i sleep
  but it gets tougher and tougher when the same **** keeps happening.
talking about crimes in streets
thats redundant
talking about drugs
thats redundant
talk about depression?
  PLEASE! we're in a recession.
if your tears aint making me money
start walking honey
because starving yourslef to skin bones isnt worth that emotional sydrome.
we need to get grown and become logical, not philosophical.
what if is just some ******* that will make smash into an obstacle pretty quick.
im sick of the same ****
same ****
same ****
same ****
same ****
same ****
my days are painful and slow
they treck alongside me like a snail in a hurdle racing a turtle.
there's no prgression
no incentive
no reason to be inventive
because its all about the money not the culture
as the vultures tear us to ribbons
rich ******* sippin on lifes bosoms is cushioned with oppurtunity.
all i would like to say is if you plant a seed
give water.
not need.

Put my soul on the waiting list of life and death my dear god
I want to explore the world with awe the way a toddler does my god
I want to question the sole purpose of existence the way a child does my god
Why can’t i be optimistic and or stupid and ignorant and happy the way a 6 year old is my god?
Why must you build us men and women with the ability to learn more of the ugly than the beauty my dear god?
Why do your trees and your mountains reach for the heavens when your gravity keeps us imprisoned to the soil you so carefully made for my feet my dear god?
Why do your care for me so, when the world you created is slowly being devoured by the very men and women you spoil with your fruit my god?
why do i feel that you are so proud of every single one of us that you will let us destroy each other with the very gifts you’ve bestowed us with my dear god?
An idea is a weapon.
A talent is ammunition.
A story is a religion
Infinite
Omniscient
But distant.
Why do my ideas resemble that of a seductress my dear god?
Easy to have, but hard to keep.
you speak to me so much that I’m never able to sleep.
i forgot what a dream is supposed to be.
but terrified i am at three at the devils hour
i feel his power all around me.
every time i see a sound or my sleepy eyes race back forth frantically i begin to hallucinate crazily of the evil that is trying to take me.
But from a dream i awake.
Granted my life i take
Awake with thanks i do
To something in the sky
Do i thank?
I do
Many believe god isn’t what is to be thought of as omniscient.
He’s just as beautiful as the man who appears every night around the world on a fateful day called Christmas
I’m guessing the purpose of a belief has missed us.
Hoping for something is the thing that keeps us living.
That drives.
We live for something
Always.
We live for our babies
As men
Our ladies and queens
As women
Our families and children
As children
Our hopes to live as men
Our hopes to live as women
Our hopes to live as man and wife
Our hopes to live as man and man
Our hopes to live as wife and wife
To live as mothers, brothers, sisters, fathers
To live as blood cells swimming through our veins
We are the blood of the world.
We are coursing through the veins we call streets.
Now you tell me.
Isn’t blood red?
Isn’t it all the same despite the its type
Alive it keeps we.
The only difference is the type and still **** aint change
Because no matter what
WE GIVE LIFE.
Let’s not differentiate
I now pronounce myself human and life.
CAN I LIVE?
Amen-

Unfortunately....there isnt much to see in new jersey.
.....well at least in my county.

All i see are leafless trees waiting to be pollinated by bees.
....well the small ones with pink flowers at least.

All i feel is a gentle breeze coursing through my finger tips to my forearm. Its pleasant.
....Now its hot...what a tease.

i tried to decribe what lies behind my window screen.

But its a mini project.
                                      .....there isnt much to expect...
                                                                ­                               ...or see.

It could be the morning or the afternoon.

January or maybe even june.

The sun may rise and shine my face.

Or it may fall as the moon rises with grace.

There could be a blizzard that blows glass shards for snowflakes.

There could be an april shower that rains pumas and wolves instead of cats and dogs.

It can be calm and quiet and sleepy.

OR BE LOUD AND BUSTLING LIKE NEW YORK CITY.

You could be content with your life as a person....

I could be comfy with knowing im a mistake.

I could be comfy knowing that my mother was *****.

I could be comfy with knowing im a spitting image of my father.

I could be calm with bare skies

I could Have ravenous thunderous eyes as it rains pumas and wolves.

I could be apathetic as i blow glass shards from merciless lips.

I AM the mistake that painted a portrait by mistake when i saw your fists touch her face.

I AM the mistake that sings with faith and hope to the sun knowing that a better day will come.

I AM better than what i was and im glad that i am such a mistake.
               ........because in all reality...
There is no such thing....

Dreary and stormy clouds rain with me whenever  I speak.

The ominous clouds recede when I notice her concern for me.

How she looks up at me only to feel the cold bitter wind of my pain howling, and my salty raindrops dropping on her flawless soft cheeks.

I...try to.....think, "why and how do you manage to console me successfully with each attempt?"

Her....optimism.

My....pessimism

Her smile.

My wrath.

She tames me easily and gracefully.

gradually the fury I acquired is forgotten.

Erased.

She blesses me with a kiss on my trembling lips.

My sturdy build in character was met with disaster.

I am a young man of pride.

In front of the one I am supposed to show that I AS A MAN, WHO MUST DEFEND AND PROVIDE:
Protection...
                       Love......
                                   And a happy life...
                       ...Cried...
            I....was weak for a moments memory of a dreadful war with an infernal enemy.....

Melli was there for me....holding a sobbing young boy.
Letting her boy...
              ....destroyed
And....pained...
     Exclaim and shout and foam at the mouth!

Curse the names of those who've caused this one boy......
     .......pain.

The feeling of her gentle arms wrapping around me...over my shoulders made me feel more at ease....
             ...she whispered...
                                              
"Dont­ worry.....it'll be okay."
      One more kiss....
A reassuring embrace...
   We stood...I held her hand.