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Nick Moser Aug 2014
Those eyes are beautiful.
Like diaries unopened.
But I need to be careful.
Before I fall for them again.
They stare into my soul.
When I look at all the pictures.
Their main goal.
Must be to injure.
Injure my pride.
My ****** emotions.
To send me sky high.
To cause one big commotion.
Those eyes have lust.
Lust not for me.
They don't just settle for rust.
But all and every thing.
When I stare at them.
They turn into a book.
But when I stare again.
I see myself as the story's crook.
I lust for them.
As you lust for me.
But I'll rust for them.
And you'll rust carefully.
Eyes can reveal and they can hide.
They hide our darkest secret until the end.
They witness our lust for each other, in pride.
But pride is a sin, my friend.
Lust is just a feeling. Rust deteriorates that.
Nick Moser May 2016
I used to have it all.

My throne that I sat high upon was my whole world.

I ruled my golden kingdom with such extravagance unseen by most living beings.

I ruled with my bloodline,

So close.
So strong.
Everlasting.

And one day, it was all taken from me.
Everything I had, gone.

I was defeated,
Despaired.
And left for dead.

And now, someone else sits fixated on my throne.

He wears my crown that I worked so hard to craft.

My crown I crafted from blood, sweat, tears, and pain.

To me, it's the crown jewel.
To him, it's nothing more than a dunce cap.

He is a nothing king trying to be everything I was.

But he needs to realize,

Thrones were only ever built for one.
Throne
Nick Moser Nov 2016
I'm waiting while watching the hands of the clock tick by.

The time passes like sand through an hourglass.

I'm waiting and watching each grain pass by.

Just wondering when time might stand still,
And when the hourglass will spill itself all over me.

Then, I'll have all the time on my hands.
I've nothing but time
Nick Moser Jan 2016
There is always a light at the end of your darkness.
There is always a light at the end of your turmoil.
There is always a light at the end of your troubles.
There is always a light at the end of your pain.

Just don’t close your eyes.
Light inside of you.
Nick Moser Feb 2017
Last words are for weddings and for funerals,

But in a weird and cruel way,

Love can be both.
Two Deaths and a Funeral
Nick Moser Feb 2016
Sometimes you're the table and sometimes you're its legs.

Either way, you've gotta carry some weight.
Wait.
Nick Moser Jun 2016
Tell me my poetry won't get me anywhere.

Tell me my talent won't help me succeed.

Tell me my poems can't change someone's life.

Tell me that I'm not on the verge of something great.

Tell me my words don't mean a **** thing.

But just watch as I prove every single one of you wrong.
Pipebomb
Nick Moser Feb 2016
She is beautiful.
Her smile can light up a room.
Her drive is unmatched by any other.
Her laugh is precious.
Her voice is as sweet as sugar.
Everything she does is magical.

I am battle-tested.
My smile can light up my paper.
My drive is unmatched by any other.
My laugh is required.
My voice is used to write these words.
Everything I do is poetic.

But, alas, we can never be together.

Because the poison she emits from her soul to touch me,
Mixed with the blood I bleed on this paper for my art,

Will never be a good combination.
A fraying, fraying leash.
Nick Moser Jan 2016
I’ve been to NASCAR races,
Haunted houses,
Hospital delivery rooms,
and even Marathons.

But I’ve never seen anything faster than the speed at which you left.
**** you're too fast.
Nick Moser Apr 2016
I’ve been told I need to be a bit more confident in my life.

And boy, ain’t that the gospel ******* truth?

My whole life I’ve been afraid of pretty much everything.

Doctor’s offices, monsters, the dark, strangers, death, sickness, spiders,
Basically everything.

But, alas, I’ve been told I need to be more confident.

Is it really that easy?

Is it really that easy to look at myself in the mirror and not hate the image looking back?
Is it really easy to live a healthy life and not be afraid of diseases or death?
Is it really easy to tell the girl I like that I like her and not be afraid of her response?

Of course it is.

But all I need is a little more confidence.
Because in my life, I have none.

I’m overweight.
I don’t particularly like the way I look.
And I’ve never had a girl.
But why am I writing about all of this instead of saying it to everyone’s faces?

Well, because I always feel most confident when I am writing.
CONFIDENCE.
Nick Moser Jul 2014
Come here baby, let's just lay down.
Our feet are tired from running town to town.
Yet we have to stay on our toes.
Running together but nobody knows.
We need a break, a get away.
A tomorrow's beginning's on yesterday's today.
You look beautiful my darling, like a boat set sail.
You look brave down to the last detail.
Running from town to town, place to place.
It doesn't faze you, doesn't show on your face.
We should just rest, get away from it all.
In each others arms is the only place we should fall.
Dirt on our shoulders, mud in the boots.
Dusting my hair off while I'm looking at you.
Bypass the hotels, motels and more.
Straight to the beach, watch the stars from the shore.
Police won't stop us, because life hasn't yet.
We've gotta keep running, not looking back and having regrets.
Sand in our shoes.
Is all we need to prove.
We've survived an onslaught, we've survived denial.
I'm tired of running, let's rest awhile.
Don't run in your Sunday shoes kids.
Nick Moser Nov 2017
I can’t find the words that I want to say to you.
Every time I try to speak,
I choke on the dirt and grass that cover graves.
I choke on the insects that infest bodies post-exodus.
I choke on the last little breaths I have left in this hole.

I’m drowning in this dirt.

I’m dying in this grave of unspoken words.
I can't breathe
Nick Moser Feb 2016
You used to tell me “The way you’re living is bad.”
“The way you’re living is terrible.”

You used to point out every little intricate mistake that I was making and every little small detail of my life that ****** you off.

But when I asked you “What I could do to change everything?”

You kept spewing your garbage at me.
So all I did was look at you and say:

“When are you going to realize that you have nothing left to say that I want to hear?”

*“And sooner or later, you’re going to have nothing left to say at all.”
Pipebomb.
Nick Moser Dec 2016
There ain't nothing special about me except my scars and my wounds.

They tell my history.
They tell my pain.
They tell my story.

All because I can't find the words.
Pray for peace
Nick Moser Feb 2016
I’m just an emoji filled love letter,
Sending myself to my lover.

I’m just a picture of romance screen-shotted off the Internet.
Sending myself to my lover.

I’m just a flip-phone in love with an iPhone.

I push my buttons many times,
And I myself become the perfect poem.

So I send myself to my lover.
And all I get back is:

*“New number. Who’s this?”
Who dis
Nick Moser Nov 2017
Here we are again. A place I’m all too familiar with. My bedroom. Late at night. I’m sitting here upset at something I saw on the Internet again. Or something someone said again. Here I am laying in my own sadness and depression, laying here in my own disappointment. Why is it like this every single ******* time?

I lay here and just try to fall asleep, but instead I want to fall off a cliff. But instead, I try to fall into a song. I fall face first into some deep-**** lyrics, and heart first into a melody that can move tears down cheeks and mountains both at the same time. I keep hoping that the music will take me away from here. Take me away from this information that makes me want to scream and shout and cry and ***** all at the same time in some weird, guttural image that would put Picasso out on street corners begging for eyes to gaze upon his art. But is it too much to beg for eyes to gaze upon a heart?

Maybe my heart is just lonely and needs attention. I’ve never been sure if I give it enough myself. But there’s only so much one person can do for something until it needs a second pair of eyes, a second pair of hands, a second opinion, a second dose of love. Maybe my twin size bed is keeping that second pair of eyes, that second dose of love from having any room to squeeze into my heart. Or maybe I’ve just never been good at sharing. I always eat more cookies then I should. I want the whole pizza to myself. And don’t even get me started on music selection.

I’m rambling again, but I think I’m just distracting myself from what I saw again. Or what I heard again. I’m trying to distract my mind because it doesn’t know how to process what it’s just seen, what it’s just heard.  I don’t know how to cope with being let down. I don’t know why, because I’ve been let down so much you think I’d have chosen a final resting place by now.

It’s too dark in here to see what I can do about this. So, I just do what I always do. After listening to my music, pity *******, and crying trying not to be heard, I lay down and try to rest.

Maybe I’ll fall asleep, and in the morning, it’ll all be better.

Or maybe I’ll fall asleep, and in the morning, it’ll all be over.

I’m not sure which thought is gonna help me get to sleep.
I've never been good. But hopefully I'm getting better.
Nick Moser Jan 2016
Many people rip on me for my “not-so-great” luck with Women.
But, jokes on them.

I’ve had some ***** before.

Until I had to get rid of them after I discovered I was allergic to felines.
MEow.
Nick Moser Feb 2016
How is a boy like me from the “not-so-small-anymore” town of Greenville, South Carolina supposed to become a successful poet?

Well, I’ve got to do the same thing anyone else would do if they want to become something:

First, stop asking questions.
Second, start finding the answers.

Because it’s all about making it in the World.

But remember, if you can make it “here”, you can make it anywhere kid.

And if you can’t make it “here”,
Then join the **** club.
I'm just chasing this dream of mine.

— The End —