We ran out of time! I screamed as the smoke rushed from under the door.
This is just a metaphor.
We ran out of time. As if running in place to get back the life we once had that was safe.
I study clocks, watches, and smiles like archeology.
We are all hour glasses tipped over waiting for the sand to run out. Yet most will stay in that room as the smoke begins to choke them more and more.
This is just a metaphor.
You are running out of time! Most of us never turn around to jump out the window and save ourselves.
You are going to die one day!! I screamed as the flames engulfed the door.
This, is just a metaphor.

As I trace my fingers over your spine, and explore your naked body I wonder how many other explorers have been here.
I wonder if you put your body up for display and let these people perform archeology on your body.
You become a new discovery to some or a misused ****** to others. I want to perform reverse archeology to your soul and bring you back to life.
I just can't seem to forget how many people have explored you before me. Some things are better left undiscovered.

Someday I will write poems about her. One day I will get flowers sent to you just because its a cloudy day.. I will call out of work on your days off so we can spend the day together.
The time we spend together is way more important than the money we spend together. I will write you into poetry even when you think it has nothing to do with you. I will describe the beauty of nature or art and the simplicity of its being but you will always be the reason it's beautiful.
I might not always say you're beautiful but it's because I already know you are. I will not tell you everyday, if you repeat something over and over it starts to lose its meaning. There will be days that I will not say I love you but rather express it with a kiss.
And on your worst days when you hate the world and have cramps and just want to eat a tub of ice cream, I will grab a spoon with you. There will be poetry made of us and not just about us. Once I write you down you will live forever through my words.
Our love will never die and our souls will always meet again. We will be a masterpiece of words that anyone can explore. We will be, poetry!

I guess you've never sat at the edge of this planet just to kick stones off into the abyss.
I guess you've never loved hard enough to be the one kicked off in that abyss.
I guess love doesn't exist, only way to know, is to dive off into that abyss.
I guess you have never shared the same breath while kissing someone you loved.
I guess from here, there is no coming back.
I guess from here, its just nothing but black.
I guess one day you'll be 80 years old and look back with so much regret.
I guess your time here would have been wasted.
I guess we'll all be forgotten like the rest of the love stories that were never told.
I guess
we're
running
out
of
time...
I guess

Fairytales are stories that never finished. That was the last thing I said to you as I walked away. Our story had an ending. An ending like a car crash. Like knowing the train is coming but it felt more comforting to stay parked on those tracks. Sifting my fingers threw your hair as you looked up at the stars and I just couldn't seem to look away from you.
I smiled as you slept and we laid under the stars that night. You would soon tell me that the weekend you went out with your friends you made a huge mistake. I imagined burning buildings and sirens. You told me another man had explored your body. I imagined you inside of the burning building.
I remember the hours after like smoke filling my lungs. You pleaded your love for me and the amount of sorries said were like cutting through glass. You had told me "you're my fairytale ending!" As I walked away and imagined that burning building getting ready to collapse, I tell you, fairytales are stories that never finished.

I should have bought her flowers. Those eyes, that hair, the true definition of beauty. I was the love and she was the heart break.
She walked and I swear she made the ground shake. She was everything any guy could ever want but I was no longer the guy she would want.
Heart break is such a painful thing, yet I still think I should have bought her flowers.  Pink was her favorite color so maybe some pink roses.
Her new fiancé brought a smile to her like no other. She was perfect and her only weakness was roses. They were something she would die for.
She was deathly allergic to them... As I head to their wedding, there isn't a more appropriate time to buy her flowers.

This one is for the boys. The ones who had dreams bigger than reality, the ones who used to have a sense of morality.  
This one is for the boys. The ones who knew who they were going to marry in third grade, the ones that admitted to being scared of something.
This one is for the guys. The ones who claim they never cry, the ones who tell her that they'll never lie.
This one is for the guys. The muscle bound, no emotion meat heads. The Fitted hat wearing acclaimed "gangsters". The smooth talking, will do everything to get that one girl but treat her like she's nothing when they get her.
This one is for the men. The ones who followed there big dreams into reality, the ones who will only lie to her about her morning breath smelling good and her snoring being cute.
This one is for the men. The ones who take responsibility for what is theirs, showing everyone he actually cares. The ones who will tell someone they are afraid to lose them. The ones who aren't afraid of being afraid.
This one is for the men! The ones who want to be everything that their daughter will look for in a man.
This is for the men.

Here I am again, just this paper and a pen.
So many thoughts to write out but everything goes blank once again..... Writers block, is every poets friend, ask them...

The End.

As the saliva drips from their fangs. I silently think to myself, "Clean your mouth, you're drooling!"
                                 A pack of wolves is what I would consider them                 as I listen to them talk about the women that walk by.      
             Talk about them as if they are nothing but flesh, a piece of meat they need to sink their                               teeth into.
        Discussing what they would do to her before ever knowing her name.
                   Nothing is more important than the hunt. The hunger of their ****** appetite overwhelms their rational thoughts.
             To think, who they would bite, if it was their daughter being hunted by the wolves.
             Famine is a plague,
    what would they be willing to do,
             if she tells them no?

I met a girl named Tequila who had a crush on Jose. It was like an icy crush but the whisky would wash it away. On a grey night a goose flew my way staying up late but the *** would make it fly away.

Too many 40s amounted. Too many, no one could have counted. But it was a party so we partied and brought out the Bacardi. It burned but didnt stop us hardly, someone screamed LETS PARTY!

Whispers from around, "man this party is narly" Passing around the yegger, text messages asking "hey, is this a kegger?" Jack showed up and met Tequila, pushed Jose aside and watched the moonshine...

On a southern, comfortable night, they possibly could have had *** on the beach but that was to explicit to speak. So drinking more wine till our legs got weak felt like the right path to keep.

No one seen that ***** was a sneak at 1:51 the time was so... Ever clear but the excitement didnt stop here. Mary got introduced to Molly and the ecstasy was colorful and jolly.

The excitement was rising but no one realized the girl crying, who was holding her boyfriend that was nearly dying.

"Breath!, breath!" she screamed. "I'm trying!" he gasped.  

Upstairs they're kissing and fondaling, downstairs they're puking and wondering.

Neither Jose nor Jack attended the funeral of those kids that brought them out that night. And the baby conceived that night wasn't named Tequila, Molly or Marry, she was just deemed a mistake, of that night.

Temptations are hiding in the lines of her skin.
She is the only book you can read in the dark.
She could destroy most men with just a flick of her hair.
But she can really rip your soul out with her stare, eyes brighter than a supernova and her smile, more mind blowing than the black holes she creates.
Her body, is the creation of infinity. Her voice is the reason there is no gravity in space.
She is acid rain running down your face and leaving you with that bitter taste.
She is the feeling of warmth, in an ice cold embrace.
I would imagine she is the reason men like me are here to write her into poetry. She is simply, just, a woman.

If no one ever told you that you breathe an invisible gas at all times and it is always surrounding you, then it would have absolutely no meaning.

You wouldn't appreciate the value of it until you're gasping for it and begging.

I remember the day you left. You walked out of the room and I watched as all the oxygen followed you until there was nothing left.

Some people never get to see what it looks like in a room with no air, gravity left and the pain was too much to bare.

Face turning blue, everything floating around the room, I wonder if I was more worried of getting my breath back or you turning around and coming back.

As I float off, ready for the inevitable, everything slams to the floor as you run threw the door! I inhale deeply and before I can exhale you say "sorry, I forgot my shoes!"

While she wants you to fall in love with her skin, be more focused on the stars in her eyes. Connecting the constellations to her heart, and falling in love with her mind.

I want to explore the stars in your eyes
                               and
get lost in forever with the galaxies in your mind.
                                   Infinity will always seem impossible, to the average people.

                       We could
  creat a love that not even infinity
                     can contain.  

      But while I'm gazing at the stars you're too busy waiting for the sunrise.

You're poison. You're a rose covered in thorns, nice to look at but deadly to touch. Every guys worst nightmare but favorite dream. You're toxic to my health but the best drug i've ever felt.

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.

Lets go out and play. Everybody is looking for lust or love. Everyone is looking for something.
A one night stand happens too often. A couple of drinks, and the mood is set.
Small talk is played but we all know, tonight, someone is getting laid. Hours pass, giggling, laughing.. Then the kiss....
Clothes are hitting the floor faster than the rain was hitting the ground outside. Pushing each other into anything that will hold the weight.  Laughing and kissing as we slam our way to the bed.
Licking and biting, teasing and fighting. Up and down her head moves as she tries to gasp for air but instead pushes deeper down her throat.
She treats me as if she is the lion and i am the prey. She crawls up my body till our faces meet. She grabs ahold as if it was going to run away, and inch by inch she can feel it opening her up.
Gripping and dripping. She screams as her body shakes. "MORE" she yells "OH MY GOD YES!" Making me into her god at that moment.
We roll over satisfied, at least one of us. As i think to myself, it will be the same thing in the morning.
She will grab her clothes and tell me to call her later. With only us two knowing the secrets we made that night.
I will say yes but never talk to her again. There will be another one soon, im sure. The experience will probably be the same, or maybe next time i will leave in the morning asking her to call me.
That's the reality of a one night stand. It only last one night, the next morning you're standing alone asking yourself why you do it.

You're someones beautiful disaster. You're something that someone has been looking for all their life.

You're the reason why symphonies are played with such emotion. You're the reason poetry is made. You're the reason people smile in the morning.

You're the reason for people to have a reason. You're someones one and only. Someones first thought when they wake up and last thought when they fall asleep.

You're something amazing. Everyday you show it, even if you don't notice it. You're something no words can explain.

Someday you'll meet someone who will try to put it into words but won't need to because they show it everyday. Just give it time.

You're someones, someone!

3:37AM
Thats the time it is when im woken up by my dogs growling and a faint sound of screaming and yelling.

I rub my eyes and sit awake. I hear the fighting of the couple next door. The first time i heard them fight, i thought to myself "its none of my business".

The third time, i made up the story in my mind that "maybe they're going through some tuff times."

The fifth time i think "Maybe they had too much to drink". I started to lose count now...

Started to lose count of the number of smacks i heard. Lost count of how many sorries were said. Lost count of how many times "You worthless ****, I don't know why i put up with your ****!" was said.

4:02AM and it is quiet again. I replay in my head what i can do... Call the cops so she will lie to protect him? Get myself involved in something that is none of my business?

It is like water in my ears, fighting to get it out because it hurts when its there.

4:41AM I say a "sorry" under my breath, hoping whispers can travel like water and crash their door down.

7:23AM I walk out to my car, to see both of them smiling...

If I told you I loved you today it would mean nothing tomorrow.

Blowing the dust off of old poems, some that were never finished because who wants to listen to love soaked poetry?

Wringing out my thoughts onto paper for someone to read them. Making sure they mean something so someone can feel them.

The world is made up of poetry. Some get the chance to hear it and some have the chance to write it.

Only the lucky ones can feel it. So drift away in my words and hold them tight.

Sit alone and read them at night. Fall into my words and land in my thoughts.

One thing is for sure, we all die. But our words and poetry have a chance to live on.

I wrote a poem for her today.... No no no, thats no good way to start it.
"You are my heart beat and i couldn't live without it." Nope thats no good either.

I just want to please her.. Even my best attempt to meet her wouldn't be enough to see her. I crumbled it up and threw it away, I erased it all, all the words I couldn't say.

Maybe writing a poem would be the way. A crumbled up piece of paper, and all that is left on it to say "I wrote you a poem today"

Let my thoughts flow onto this paper. The pen is my surgical knife, the ink is my blood. I put everything i have into every letter and word this is my true love.

These lines on this paper are my addiction i cant stop at just one. Every exclamation point is like an earthquake or someone screaming in your face!

Every question mark is like turning down a one way road and ending up in the wrong place. Some sentences are written in code. Just leave me with this pen and paper and let me get in my zone..

There were galaxies in her eyes.

I was never afraid of heights but the "goodbyes".

Every night was a different lie.

I watched as black holes swirled into her eyes

The love went into the stars

The galaxies were no longer ours

I explored them so carefully

When you left, you took the oxygen with you

Someday i want to look at the stars the same

But all i can think of is your name...

They say beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.. So behold the beautiful lies that he told her.
He said he loved her. Just for that night, that one night to have the lights off and take her clothes off just so he can get off. And then... he's off.... oh the irony.
But please understand that there is another side, you see... She will play this game too making sure that the next time its happening to you.
The word "Love" is what builds a bridge to each others hearts but its that same word that could tare you apart....
Cupid!.... He's lost his aim. That 4 letter word "love" has been replaced with "game" its such a shame. But who can take the blame..? He lied, she believed it. She lied, he believed it. Its beautiful isnt it, all the energy that has went into it.
4 letters, 3 words, 2 minutes thats all it takes and its over. Now they're sober, waking up and feeling like they have been on an emotional roller coaster. Maybe she just needs a strong shoulder... To spill out her thoughts and talk about the future and when she gets older? Maybe he just wants to listen and understand everything that she's missing. But they will both become a memory to each other, strangers once again to each other... And to think, all he wanted to do was hold her. But hey...., they say beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.

We all live such mediocre lives. We dress to please. We live with no ease. We go day to day while life passes us in a blur.... Only remembering the exciting things that happen once and a while. Sitting in that same office or eating that same boring food. Think back a week, where were you? What did you do? Is it something more exciting than traffic? Can you even remember...? I once knew a man that was diagnosed with cancer at 63. His smile was something you looked forward to see... One day it just didn't come. Months pass as he battles the disease, and suddenly the smile is back. Through all the pain and therapy, and long waiting. They tell him it has spread too far and stamp an expiration date on his life. I ask "how can you smile after hearing that?" He tells me "I never appreciated the little things in life until i knew mine was going to end. It took me realizing i was going to die, to actually live. Don't make this same mistake, Mike. You're young yet. My mind is so clear now." A few months later he passed... Those words he said to me will forever last. Everything we know can go down hill so fast. Who is to say the man walking past you on the side walk isn't having a bad day? What would stop him from pulling out a gun and killing you and 10 others. It's crazy to think about, until it actually happens. Maybe the person driving in the other lane didn't get enough sleep and that 2 inches that they turn the wheel would end your life with theirs. It takes 2 inches to become just a memory, something so small could hurt so many. You still have a chance to live. Stop worrying about things you cannot change. Make sure you're life is a book that everyone wants to read... Your time is running short and you never know if you'll live to see 50. So scream till you can't breath!! Love so much that you want to believe!! Make everyday a story you would want to tell someone. Because once you're gone, memories is all they'll have left.

What is your biggest fear? Growing up, my biggest fear was the dark. I used to hate it when i was younger. Not being able to see whats around you just makes your mind go crazy. As I got older I realized there were no such thing as monsters in the dark. I eventually found comfort in the darkness and it became peaceful. My next fear became girls. They had cooties, no one wants to get cooties! As that little phase passed, i feared talking to girls. Knowing what to say, my first crush, butterflies in my stomach, asking a girl to prom... It was a scary time for a boy my age. Soon that passed and I had my first girlfriend. I made her cry when i told her i didn't like her anymore and laughed about it with friends after. These were things 16 year olds did. I no longer had fears for much, i had to start being a man and men don't fear anything, so they say. As I got older I hurt more girls and laughed it off. I was raised by women and taught to never hurt one but my friends wouldn't think that was cool. I matured and realized the worth of a woman. Realized that in my younger years I should have treated them as if they were nothing less then perfection. So here i am, soon to be 23 years old. A man with no fears they say. What is your biggest fear? My biggest fear is that one day I may have a daughter. That one day i might have to wipe the tears away from her face that some guy put there. And one day i will tell her it will be okay. That its just a phase. Guys will be guys. My biggest fear it that one day i will have to wipe the tears away from my daughters eyes.

A blind man once told me that he fell in love with a beautiful woman. Hearing this, took me totally out of place so i stared with a blank face... A smile came to his face... as almost knowing already the reaction he would get. He asked me "If you could love with your eyes closed, describe beauty and being completely exposed?." I hesitated, shut my eyes and then answered. Beauty to me would not be beauty to you because you see true beauty without really seeing it. His smile grew bigger. Beauty shouldn't have to be seen... but its the reality that most people don't seem to believe. Words and expressing emotion is beautiful. But you sir, have a gift because you will never judge anyone by their looks or weight or their skin color. You will only judge by how beautiful their words are or how amazing their thoughts can be. Getting so mentally fixed with someone, looks no longer become a necessity and you have the clarity to love them mentally. So to me, true beauty is in the mind, unraveling the puzzle and loving what you find. As i opened my eyes, the blind man was mesmerized. With a big smile he said "Love is blind and people like you are the reason for true loves meaning and people like you are why im still believing." As he got up to leave, he held his stick and pulled off the dark glasses he was wearing, and just started staring. The question was unbarring, so i asked, "Sir if you dont mind, but you don't look blind?" At that moment a woman walked over and proceeded to grab the stick and the glasses from the man. While i stared in a lost gaze trying to find words to say. he said "She is the reason i breath every day." With a soft, sweet voice she said "I dont need my eyes to show me what beauty is, i need my heart to show me what love is because no matter how you look at it, you cant visualize beauty. You have to touch it and feel it. You have to describe it and hear it. And when you find someone who's feeling is mutual you wont need your eyes to tell her, "You are beautiful".

While she's quivering and shaking, its his favorite sound to hear her heart breaking. Rip her apart! Tear her to pieces!! Tell everyone her deepest secrets! Let her scream, let her cry! Dont you dare try to rub the tears from her eyes. **** that, go ahead, tell her another lie! Convince her for the 10th time that this will be the last time. Deceive her! Miss treat her! She claims she loves you but you wont believe her! Rip at her core, take everything she's worth and more! Make her cry and yell till her eyes and throat are soar! He screams, "Yeah, you like that, right *****!?" She was a great student, the ideal girlfriend. Got perfect grades, all she did was cheat on him once... But she's the one that gave him aids.... He walks out side to take a breath. Tears in his eyes, gripping that paper with the results. Gripping it to death. He tries to think of the good thoughts or whats left. He goes back inside, grabs the sharpest knife he can find. Walks behind her.... And with one swift slice... He opens up her neck. She falls gasping for air, he whispers "I just thought you should know, you deserve to die slow." He pulls out his pistol, places it under his chin and smiles.

There's this matter that i want to discuss. It seems like being a young mother is cool these days but marriage still isn't completely legal for gays. What makes it right, that a 16 year old should be waking up to a crying baby at night...They're babies themselves. Something with that just isn't right. Dont get me wrong, abortion is wrong and we should abort the ability of abortion. but Why are 14 15 16 year olds even having ***....?? Should we blame the parents, should we blame society, should we blame the schools who dont give us enough education on *** and all of the bad side affects? I mean, my mother was a young mother herself and with me being the 3rd child, she had to do it all by herself. The struggles of being a mother and her oldest being a daughter her perception of life had to alter. 21 years later and my mother and sister are both considered my mother... Its a topic that doesn't get stressed but none of us would be here, if we practice safe ***. Condoms are the protection of our loves affection but most people don't get the expression. Parental discretion, while she's pushing a stroller she never learned the lesson, so her friends are going out every night while she's at home stressin. So she cries to her mother while the baby cries to his mother... hmmm the irony. Im not trying to preach... just trying to teach. So take the time to listen to me speak. 10 minutes of pleasure and 9 months of pain.. 16 and pregnant, what does that show have to gain. To let young people have babies for fame. Its such a shame. So protect yourself, educate yourself, respect yourself, and don't become a statistic to the worlds misfits.

Sitting in this dark room it gives me time to think.. Picking up the pen and writing with dark ink. Trying to let your eyes adjust to the darkest of dark its basically black.. but its actually a peaceful place. letting your ears take in what your eyes lack. The pleasant sound of someone laughing... but there is no one in this dark room, no one even near this room just the darkest of gloom... feeling as almost if the darkness is grabbing you or holding you.. A pleasant but uncomfortable hug, the feeling of 4 maybe 5 hands holding you.... But there is no one in this dark room.. Just the ticking of a clock.. a clock that has not worked for years but yet makes that familiar sound to my ears. The tick.....tock....tick.....tock its steady and heavy like the breath thats on my neck. Every hair on my body stands on end, The breath whispers "I knew we would meet again" Reaching next to me for a light of some sort and suddenly the tick tick tock of the clock stops..... Flicking the spark of a lighter and it almost blinds me. Sitting in this room for 4 hours felt like only an hour. My eyes have soaked up this darkness and taken it in. The hairs on my neck feel like they're not a part of my skin. I pick up the pen and jot down some notes.. not being able to even see what i wrote.... Suddenly i hear the sound of foot steps, maybe a woman in heals and a sweet smell of a musky perfume. But there is no one in this room, no one has ever even seen this room. Its just surrounded with the darkest of gloom. I sit and breath. The breaths are almost the sound of music with the beating rhythm of my heart. Not being able to realize if my eyes are open or closed anymore, the darkness only got darker. You see.. There's this game that i play by myself. I lose myself... Some how i regain and find myself... The question is like a cat scratching his nails on a chalk board. Who else is in this dark room? Is it just me by myself? I tell myself that there has to be someone else... I begin to sweat and my skin is crawling from my hairs standing on end... The sound of it is so clear almost like leaves blowing in the wind. Could this be the end? I ask myself again and again.You ever have the feeling, that you're standing on a huge frozen lake and suddenly the ice starts to crack and break,....beneath you. And there is no where to run to? This dark place is a never ending abyss... Im just wondering if i'll be missed. Trying to find hope in a place that doesnt exist. This place is so dark... 10 million suns shining immensely bright still couldnt give this place enough light. I scream and shout "I dont want to be here!!" My alarm breaks this barrier of silence as i roll over and rub my eyelids. A sigh of relief comes to me as i realize it was just a bad dream. As i roll back over there sits a notebook and a pen. As once again every hair stands on end. A few dark words written on the bright white paper. I'll have to wait to tell you later.

The art of seduction, no person wants to have the discussion. Simple as a touch, nibble or kiss but her broken heart, its something that we miss. Sometimes its a cold bliss. She said "The pain feels like cutting my wrist". No one can explain her pain or where it comes from, but a man, she blames its from. Now shes 4 months pregnant with an unborn son. The father, using his seduction on another one. He is neither here nor there. Now she has this weight to bare. Knowing already the unasked questions, "where is my daddy? Does he not love me?" Her mind races as she thinks of a reply.... but all she can do is cry. One week later shes waking up in a room with unbearable heart break, dizzy and confused, ****** and hurting! She pulls back the curtain.. falls to her knees and pleads. A man in white comes to her needs. Hes seen it too many times. 3 hours later she bleeds! Two open wounds on each of her wrist. who is to blame for this misery? Two beautiful lives gone and the father could only wonder what went wrong. Two years later, that same man is wondering what went wrong.

Standing cold in the shade, forever lost we all search for the suns rays. Everyone needs an escape. One girl screaming ****. These guys teaching girls, not how to love but how to hate. So the children learn nothing else but how to degrade. Honestly its a disgrace, knowing that leaving them with these negative affects is only going to be exactly what we expect. No one takes a stand and screams that its wrong... all we do is watch and play along! We all have a voice so let it be heard..... Silence! It creeps around us while the truth blinds us. Being choked up by words that were never spoken of..... Silence! As the political views are made out to seem so minuscule, they are the main cause of all the ridicule. If we spoke with more violence instead of silence then maybe we could make an alliance by shouting back with a gesture of defiance... But yet once again, Silence! So i will shout, i will scream, i will be heard by all means... I will tell the secrets of the world and let the truth unfurl, making sure that those screams are no longer coming from that girl. My voice will only die after it burns from the pain of telling every lie... Now listen...!!! Silence.

I have to get these thoughts out, put them on paper I cant save it for later!  Just the thought of being alone is something felt so strong! These thoughts, these thoughts, these thoughts, this thought.. Its battle in my mind that cant be fought. **** I just wanna scream it out!! Everyone is always in a whisper why dont we all just shout..?? Just listen to my thoughts for one minute, you couldn't understand because everything you know would be diminished, at the simple thought that my mind is something unfinished ughhh why dont u listen.. Its something your missin... Call me crazy but its only because your thoughts are hazy. I call you insane because you cant understand whats in my brain so really that would make me sane! I can spill out my thoughts like wrist bleeding from a rusty knife but you can never understand this life.. Become one with me and u'll see its right but at the end of the night, there never is any light. I hear them screaming but its whispers, screaming whispers... See things like that leave blisters! I can tell you secrets that would give you shivers, drinking away the thoughts and killing our livers. These thoughts sometimes they drive me crazy or am I going sane..... Go outside and listen to the rain, believe what u want but those drops penetrate and leave stains. Even when I try to let go, the only one there for me is my echo... Somewhere in a dark cave with just a candle lit, I talk to myself about all this ****! so while I sit there and I sit, a cool breeze blows by and that candle is no longer lit. That breeze, was the echo of my thoughts on this ****.