Sometimes man....
Seeing everything you say and do
With all of the contradictions,
Tires me out.

You think being alone is fun?
Maybe for you and your perfect life where nothing goes wrong,
But being alone is the hardest thing right now.

I lose all sense of time and reality
Spending the night thinking up ways
That I can get past it or get you back,
Or thinking about the happiness you brought me
And thinking about the happiness I brought you.

I haven't slept normally in over two weeks
Because i'm alone.

The bed too empty,
My heart too broken,
My mind racing,
Hands busy typing cliche *******.

Sometimes man....

I wonder if you are just good at blocking things out,
Or you just didn't really care.

Right now is a time that no one should be awake
but watching the sunrise through the night
is a beautiful sight.

Trying to sleep is a chore and a pain
because my bed is so empty.

There is no passion,
no love,
no cuddling,
and nobody there anymore.

The only thing that can fill the emptiness
is thoughts about the wonderful things that used to be there,
wonderful things now pressed into the memory foam.

I haven't written a poem in over a year
but honestly nothing has changed.

I still spend my nights up late
thinking about failed relationships
and the endless *******
that goes with it.

Reading the different poems by past loves,
long lost and forgotten,
about how much in love you are
or how much the most recent love has hurt you,
I know nothing has changed.

So I guess I will sit here some more
and ***** about god knows what,
because **** doesn't change.

**** DOESN"T CHANGE

I know people,
who apparently can judge the entire being of a person
on the fact that they smoke.

Making judgements
by the cigarette
that hangs from their mouth.

The image in their heads
says that this person is bad
but that's just the ignorance talking.

I know people,
who smoke
cigarettes and ****.

These people enjoy the feeling
like the taste
or it's to stop the shakes.

Some of these people
have huge hearts and open minds
greater than all the haters.

I know people,
who drink and party
because they think that's fun.

If that's what you like
then who am I to stop you
but that's not my cup of tea.

I prefer a nice tobacco pipe
and a great book
while I ponder life's questions.  

So ******* and your childish judgements
that cloud your mind
and prohibit you.

Open up and maybe someone
will be willing and able
to care about you again.

Every felt like something?
you know...
that feeling that you just can't grab
no matter how hard you try
to smoke it out
and drown it down?

Everyone has the feeling
and it's what makes great people.
The endless feeling for the label,
for the answer.
Then these great people stumble upon something along the way
that makes them great,
but what is this feeling?

The feeling that keeps us up at night
regardless of the sleepy feeling in our eyes
is something.  

Something unexplainable and ******* ******
that consumes your being and pulls you in
like a magnet to a metal rod
or a beast with its hands around your neck
slowly strangling the life out of you.  

**** it man... I need a smoke.

Love leads to only despair.

Either a break up
or death
or loss of interest
or divorce
or an affair,
this is the end of love.

Some people tell themselves
they are in it for the experience.
They don't care how it ends
just how it went by,
but let me tell you that all actions
lead to something.

I guess I have had those good relationships
filled with love
and happiness
and now I look back
as I sit here in complete silence
wondering if it was worth it.

Was it worth the way I feel like **** all the time?
Is it the fact that you didn't do this to me?
only someone who cares would be able to do this
to me.

So i'll just sit here and read my books
and write my poems
and play my guitar,
because you don't deserve my sadness
you aren't kind enough
or smart enough
for me to be sad about what happened.
You didn't care enough
for me to give a **** about you now.

I heard the music
shutting my eyes the sound went through my head,
through my mind.

Bellowing in one ear like a rolling bass,
while tweeting in the other like the soft strings
if a violin or ukulele,
playing softly on a full moon
to cheer up your mood.

I heard the music
loud
like headphones surrounding my ears
with the volume turned up.

I feared I would lose my ability to hear,
to listen to sounds of mother earth.
My loss of sound would be
my greatest tragedy of all.

I heard the music
as you lay in your bed,
sleeping,
with your hands covering your face

Your silken ginger hair falling
messily around your face.
I wish I could walk to you,
and brush your hair from your beautiful,
light colored eyes.

I heard the music
before.
I tried to ignore it,
writing poetry to hide it

I still battle whether I should tell you,
or not,
because our friendship, I treasure most.

I heard the music
when you told me your deepest secret
how boys fall in love with you.

Now I think I have fallen,
just as you said,
but I don't want to lose my friend.
Will I?
Will I lose my only friend?

I heard the music,
the music of love.

I don't want what you want to do.

Know that, how thinking I don't feel, hurts

and so now,

*******,

don't do,

just know,

Now every time I go and try something new to me,
I figure it all out.
That maybe if me or you,
both possibly feel,
that if the places were same
as those when
(or were)
I lived
and Burned the food my mom cooked.

Arm and arm,
you and I,
cared or not,
nurturing life in me
helping me like everything that
there was or is around me.

More
and more than anything
that just was past friendship
with others.
(between friends
being us is what I
like best)

Hope you feel there was,
what is now.

Our fates, they take walks through
places that are scary
and far more frightening than any pleasant thought,
far more than fear itself or anything
that you and I,
as children,
could have thought,
we'd only known,
lurked in darkness.

Walking takes us places and
shows us that talking
should be valued and
is better than staring
(straight and silent)
at a wall.

The stars above...
I love trying thoughts and ideas
to bring me the answers to all my questions.

Our fates bring about walking,
leading to love,
discovery,
happiness,
realization.

But (I know that)
it's filled with many hard feelings.
And that's because everything you
and I
experience,
what we want,
is given to you
by something else in you.

All heed my words.
Open your arms,
and walk.

Your own words destroyed your cuteness
when you said,
"This is what I need now,
the focus on my life."
biggest ******* ever.

The part I love most is,
"I don't have time now love."
Feeling as you didn't like me anymore,
can't stand the single thought of me.

Time to packup and
forgive you.
It feels like a hit and run
all from your side

But things are funny to you still.  
A bone chased by a dog and
I think that it's just really cute
how you wanted a puppy and then,
a baby.

Forgetting out last kiss ***** more than anything.
Oh, why can't I remember how your lips feel
as I kiss you?
How I wanted to remember yesterday,
go to my thoughts
and just kiss you.

I must forget you.
I have to forget.

When is it the best time?
I don't know.
Every time I look at my watch,
above all,
I wonder where the time's gone.

Stare,
Dumbfound,
Confused,
lost in thought,
unable to understand that I have to go.

I am able to move now,
focusing back in
then my thought process returns
and that gaze turns into a look.

So from that frozen stance,
I'm now your slave, Time.
Now, are you beautiful
or terrible?

Time goes
but eyes never change.
Constant
like when your seconds tick away,
and the splendid things fade away,
and the smiles dissolve into nothing.

And is a word which can
combine all subjects or thoughts,
and I know i will use it again
and again.

Can I decide to pick another word?
Say "or" rather than repeat
and;
which is what I always say.

What if i decide to omit And?
What, you don't think I can?
One thing I know,
is I make things go.
not because I care,
because I have changed she, from he

I'm the one who makes things happen,
like a riot
fuels me.

In the heat of battle
I lose most control
but get it back.
My drive makes it so,
and my thoughts are behind the wheel.

The sun rises in the east, it's
making way for a grand new day.
The moon, she leaves for some time
the way she gives light to the dark
to return to me the following night
shows me above all that she cares.

Night,
dark without her light,
silent,
not a sound to be heard.

I look up and see,
the glowing light
she's waiting to be seen,
to be observed
waiting for appreciation

sometimes she's not out
to me it means that the moon
has things to do.
Has things to see.
Things to give to other people
of the world.

Then some one tells me you're out,
again.
A sign of a new month,
a new cycle,
of the cosmic timeline.

When I begin a realization of anything
I look at the moon or,
I think of the moon,
and that's advice.

The advice that I need

I sit and stare at the wall

and I think about many things.

Invisible words on the wall,

I see them written

of peace

of war

of love

of hate.


I look down

and I see my feet

these bony toes have supported me

through the best and the worst of times.  

They are my oldest friend.

I've been everywhere,

My dad's job makes it so.

Army's known to do that sort of thing.

It's been life since

I was newly born.


All the places I've been

that have been a "New Adventure,"

I can't remember my first friend,

or my first kiss,

and the day at midnight

when I lost my virginity.

The memories took a walk from my mind


and I can't remember a thing.

Why do we make ourselves unhappy?
every time we walk and talk
we are unhappy.

Happiness is a choice.
The only thing that causes depression
is a lack of happiness in one's life.

Yes there is hopelessness,
despair,
grief,
and sorrow,
but we can make all the pain (suffering)
go away with happiness.

We wake up every day
(or just decide to start the day
after a night of sleepless thought)
and the first choice is not sleeping in,
or what to wear,
or what to eat,
no.

Our first choice is "how do I feel today?"
because happiness is but a choice.

we choose to be unhappy,
you and I.
We are single, and in that right,
alone.

So then we ask ourselves,
"is it better to be happy
with a person for temporary happiness,
or fight through the pain and loneliness
for someone who gives us true happiness?"

We know that it's better to be truly happy.
So we are single, and in that right
alone.

I know you are sad,
I am too.
But I'm here for you
to lean on,
or to cry into my shoulder,
or to lay your tired head on my lap
and sleep till morning.  

So hug me when you are sad,
and talk to me when you are worried,
because you deserve the world
and one day someone will give it to you
in the palm of their hand,
and you will want nothing else from them.

Trust me I know.

****!

you burned me.
my body is mangled and blistered from it.

It stings afterwards for hours.
An uncomfortable feeling that wont stop,
wont ease,
never ends.

I can only sqwirm around in my chair,
covering my wound with my shame.
My orange sweatshirt brushes against it
constantly. non stop.

eventually it stops,
after hours of discomfort,
and I decide to do laundry.
so I drag my bag full of ***** clothes
down the four flights of stairs, into the dungeon...

****!

I hit my arm against the wall,
you are hitting me over and over
to worsen the pain.

Now it burns like fire where it was hit.
Destroying my every hope of anything
to survive your wrath.
I lift my sleeve...

******!

It is bursting with red,
like your rosy cheeks after a day in the sun,
but much much worse.  

Carefully I pull the sleeve down
to cover my discomfort.  
and I load the washer.

******* ****!!!

I see that blisters now form.
they are large, and tender.
Three radii of a quarter,
and the height of dime's diameter.
(the change in my pocket was all i had to measure with)

And then one pops.
The clear pus pours from the small hole made
by trying to pull out a hair in the center of the growth.
it streams down my arm and drips off
as I struggle to find something to mop it up with.  

Finally my sorrow-filled pus is finished
draining from my skin.
Now I cut away the flap left by you.
pulling it back with tweezers and snipping away at the edges
as the raw skin underneath burns like a thousand suns
burying themselves into the depths
of my skin.

It takes about an hour to cut it all away,
every last bit of your biological destruction
done to my fore-arm.  

Sitting there all I can think about it your burn,
the way that you scarred me.
And of course I wonder,
did I do this to myself?
Did I cause the pain?

I did.

It wasn't you who singed my arm,
who caused these blisters.  

It was me.

I did.

I deleted our texts.

I erased all your voicemails.

Why?

because everything I see reminds me of you,
reminds me of the pain you caused me,
of the burn you gave me.

so I erased it all
like it never existed

hopefully I can do the same
with my mind

I feel what you feel
I feel it like we feel pain
like we feel love.  

it hurts beyond belief,
to some people they cry for no reason.
they cry because they are

SAD.

are we sad?
do we deserve it?
should we deserve it?

you and I are in the same boat.
this tiny ******* boat that
keeps rocking back and forth,
back and forth,
back and forth.

I wonder if the boat will rock too much
and tip.
then what?

DROWNING.

we are drowning, fighting for life
but maybe we can survive if we hold onto eachother,
and we embrace our sorrows together.  

I am here,
you are here.


We both are suffering from the same thing.
but it's not sadness that we feel.
it's loneliness,
it's grief,
it's asking ourselves,
"what could have made it work?"

you and I are in the same boat.
So let's just row to shore
and get the **** out.

The Movement of our legs

one, lift, two, lift.

Such complications in a simple step
Naturality known since our first baby steps,

one, lift, two, lift.

Once the movement becomes right
walking becomes so much more

one, lift, two, lift.

It's a time to think,
to talk
to love the fall

What if we decided to walk?
Slow down the world.
Slow down ourselves.

Some people can't do it because
they are out of shape,
or have no time,
but that's not why.

Some people can't slow down.
Can't let life go by.
Can't pause for but a moment.

We take a stroll every once in a while
(actually more than just a while).
Several times a week
and every walk
is a new adventure.

It's a time to think,
to talk,
to love the fall.

Food is energy
refreshing the body
fueling the mind
powering the aura

          There are few times I
          do in fact eat
          and those times I realize
          how vital it is

The energy it provides
The focus it gives
The inspiration it donates

     Looking around i see
     their faces.
     Those morning faces,
     staring straight ahead with
     grim looks on their mugs.
     No thought son their minds
     either than the food
     which consumes them.

I spot a friend.
Wet hair
uncomprehensioned look
dressed and prepared for the day
ahead the day of unknowing

          Trying to prepare for nothing
          for that which doesn't really exist
          Yet...

Now I'm shaking,
A broken man
trying to sift the pieces back
together

     Back together

Sleepless nights

Filled with thought

Left to the knowledge of Earth's sorrows


Breathing in

Breathing out

The air flow is life renewing


When all that we are
reveals time's ***** plight.  
Just a vision which none
can see nor predict

why try to fix this?
why try at all?

Start the new day

          With a fresh ray of light

      To **** the demons

               Which the night releases.

Let the sun shine in,

      Let the new day arrive.