Rest your head on my chest. Meditate to the rhythm of my heart beat. Breathe softly and escape your mind.

Live in this moment right now.

Cry your eyes dry and whisper your secrets to me. Scream your voice horse and just don't forget to breathe.  

Even the sun must let the moon sit in darkness at night. Even in your darkest times, i'll be the light you need.

I will rehearse you like poetry and speak you into existence. A tangled mess of letters and words that only us, together, can straighten out. You will be my poetry.

She walked in with her favorite pair of '**** me' jeans on and came there with only one intention... Well to find love of course.

After finding a Victoria secret bag in his car with underwear that were 2 sizes too small to be her's, it was no longer a secret.

One shot after another, hour after hour. Guy after guy. Playing hard to get was the key. From being a strong independent woman as her strongest tool. To the only thing that is keeping her from tumbling over, is that bar stool.

You know, the type every guy in the bar wants. Easy, sloppy and gets straight to business. As she goes to the bathroom because the walls were moving too fast and spills it all up, just as fast.

More conversation and more drinks, she's here for love not sympathy. 2am and the neon sign that says "open" only reads "love" to her at this point.

More conversation and more drinks... She has yet to spend any of her money but her beauty gets her what she wants.

Scratching at the indent on her left hand around her finger. Shhh, we'll get to that later.

3am comes, "tell me you love me" she moans in this strangers ear, as he erupts in everything but love for her.

Its 4am and she's crashing to her bed with the smell of cigarettes and alcohol all over her and nothing to remember the night but the firm handprint on her right **** cheek.

As she rolls over to a different man.... Its 9am, with a soft tug of her blanket, her daughter says "mommy can you make breakfast, daddy had to drop off uncle Dan's bag he left in his car."

Sit alone with your thoughts for just ten minutes. You might realize that there is nothing scarier then what crawls around your mind.

We swept our dreams under the floor mat as we stomped our way out the door.
We ran with the moment and dragged our hopes through the mud. We all wanted to be something great when we were younger.
We got older and forgot how to live younger. We forgot how to live! We learned about bills and forgot how to smile.
We traded cartoons for newspapers, bicycles for cars, fun for misery, friends for cell phones.
Our happiness is now based on the amount of money in our pocket. We don't have a "crush" anymore we have a one night stand. We don't reach for the stars anymore because it seems like its always cloudy.
Your body will inevitably get old but you can stay young in your mind forever.
We were superheroes that traded in our capes for a nine to five.  We were everything we could have ever of been.
Nothing was out of reach. We have all just stacked bills and our daily stress in front of that door. Break it down and live your dreams.
So let me ask again, what do you want to be when you grow up?

You can be my drug, i'll inhale you and hold it in.
I'll drink you down till you make the room spin.
I'll sniff you up so it hits harder and last longer.
I'll inject you so you can flow with me, until my vision gets blurry and I cant see.
I'll stay so high when you're around me, and i'll lose my mind when you're not with me.
I hate that sobering reality and that feeling when that high comes down.
I know eventually u'll be back around. So like a feen looking for that next hit, i'll wait, staying up real late...
A simple touch, something like a hug gets me addicted to you, like you're my drug.

Poetry is like spider webs. Each word has so much meaning. A spider prefers to spin its web at night. Maybe this is because thats when they have the most on their minds or when they feel safe.

Each web a beautiful creation. The time it takes to create it and the little appreciation it gets. They say a spider will eat its web when moving on, every poet will eat their words one day.

Cob webs, are webs that have been abandoned and left to die. Our bodies will one day be left to die.

This moment, this one right now, is all we have. We will leave our poetry behind to turn into Cob Webs. Maybe one day a child may stumble across these words and bring them back to life.

Poetry is the most powerful thing we have and we need to give it to everyone. So the next time you see a spider web, appreciate it a little more.

Think of it as, poetry. Something or someone spent a lot of time making it. And put their soul into it. Because what is poetry if not a spiders web in the corner waiting to be realized?

I won the lottery last week. I played the mega millions with a jackpot of 60 million hoping 5 numbers could determine the rest of my life.

Where I live, a man won the lottery only 12 miles from me with a jackpot of 127 million dollars.

I try to fathom how that would feel. How I could take everyone I care about and give them anything they ever wanted.

People are talking about it days after and every time it is mentioned, its like glass shattering in my ears. How could someone be so lucky?

He will probably eat the best food and buy the nicest things. But thats all they will be is "things". The money will slowly push family and friends away.

He will no longer have to work, he will no longer have time for people that were there before. Because the money is all thats there.

Maybe I envy him. Or maybe i'm sorry for him. I'm not sure.

I won the lottery last week. I thought of all the things I could do and places I could go.

A 2 dollar winning lottery ticket made me realize that I won. We are all rich! In our own minds.

Our struggle is what makes our character. Our stories is the poetry of life. We win the lottery everyday, most of us just don't know how to spend it.